I’ve been thinking a lot about my voice and sound magic lately. It’s something I want to explore. I’ve been hearing about how people make sounds to find their voice and that it’s a deep part of life. It made me think about how and when I found the power in my own voice.
Some years ago I got a 4 year old dog from a shelter. He was more than a handful. If you’ve read the book or seen the movie Marley and Me you’ll get the picture. He was out of control and I felt utterly powerless in the face of this force of nature in a medium-sized dog package.
I took him to training. There was a dog whisperer there, an older man who told me that pet owners generally need to be trained more than their dogs. He told me straight up that my voice had no power and that the dog was not going to listen to me. He taught me that I had to give strong one-word commands in a low pitch, almost like a bark. At first I found it foreign and difficult to bring a voice with power out of myself but out of necessity I mastered it and the dog.
From then on my dog and I developed a very close connection for many years. He would stay at my side when I was ill and seemed to often know my thoughts before I’d spoken them. He was my best friend. We went to the beach, the park and went for many walks. Often we would just chill out together in the back garden.
When the dog was around 12 years old, I had a deep calling to leave my home and move to the other side of the world to begin a sort of healing journey I guess it would be called. I was told by the vet that my dog was quite old and based on his breed would live until about 14 or so. I didn’t know where I would end up or when I would be back and I didn’t want my friend to have to stay for long stretches in quarantine so I made the heart-breaking decision to leave him behind to live out his years with my ex.
My dog rarely barked or made a sound. He was dignified but also funny. He held a quiet strong power. Several weeks after I left he would go down to the furtherest corner of the garden and howl into the night for many hours. He did this for about a month then stopped as suddenly as he started. I believe he was grieving me and that when he was done, he was done.
He lived happily for 7 more years. One night my dog visited me in my dreams. He was my dog but had become a person. We had a nice catch up. He told me that it was perfectly fine that I had left, that he was happy and it was what I had to do. He told me that he enjoyed our life together. The next day, my ex told me that our dog had died.
I owe a lot to that dog. Not just for his loyal companionship but because he gave me a reason to find the power in my voice and in myself.
