It is 7 a.m. on a mid-week summer day. The morning sun's pale rays skim through a stand of trees toward the northeast. It is warmer out here on the deck than I thought it would be when I woke to the sound of a blustery breeze pushing against my bedroom shade.
The phone rang early ˜ 8:02 a.m. "Who could it be?" I wondered as I rushed to the phone. My daughter? My son? My mother? My husband was still asleep upstairs. In my experience, early-morning or late-night telephone phone calls often signify trouble. Not this time. Whew!
His voice, its tone and timber, vibrated with warmth. He sounded young . . . is young . . . must be young . . . certainly is younger than I, who feels so old lately. Where did the time go? (Can you relate to this question, to this exploration?) Yet, as I have aged, my voice has deepened, as, perhaps, I have, too.
The question that particular early-morning telephone call left me with was: What can one tell from someone's voice? Do our voices reflect our personalities? Do our voices change as we grow, as we age, as we change with time?
The Caller
A representative of a tree and landscaping company, Joel called to arrange a convenient time for his crew to come and trim the trees at my daughter's home, which she and her husband rent from me. Joel's words flowed easily, as if he were comfortable with making decisions and negotiating his needs.
Unlike so many "sales reps" with whom I have spoken and worked over the years, Joel's words seemed to emanate from a bedrock of sincerity. Humor and intelligence percolated through our discussion. His voice inspired trust. "We'll let the baby decide," he concluded, referring to Alexandra's naptime. As I heard those words, I smiled and wondered if he was a new dad himself. I could almost see the gentle grin on his face as he spoke those kind-hearted words.
All of this seemed like a lot to get from a five-minute, "Hey, I just woke up!" telephone conversation. Yet, there is the wisdom of first impressions and of gut reactions, combined with the guidance of the unfiltered, not-quite-awake-yet subconscious mind. This subliminal part of the brain is much more accessible right after waking than it is throughout the day when the conscious mind functions in a more linear mode of thought and action.
I wonder what my impression of this young man would have been if we had met and talked face to face. Would we have felt that it was more advantageous for us to "face off," rather than to discuss what would have worked best for each of us and then seek to accommodate each other's needs? What did I hear in his voice? What did I learn about him solely from his voice, unencumbered by other impressions?
Rivers of the Soul
Voices intrigue me — voices as a river of expression: either flowing or blocked; rippling with emotion, or stagnant and stale; rapid or hesitant; carrying truth or weighted with lies.
Sometimes, I'm surprised when I hear my voice on a tape recorder. Do we ever know how we sound to others? Indeed, do our voices change slightly depending upon the person with whom we are speaking? I think that they do, although not at the deeper "voice print" aspect, which today's technology is able to identify as individualistically as a fingerprint.
Several years ago, when I worked as an editor and writer for a publishing company, I frequently interviewed people over the telephone for their life stories, for information, and/or for their points of view. Usually, I taped the interview and transcribed it so that the facts and quotes would be accurate.
When I played the tape back, I frequently was surprised at how soft and gentle, yet precise, my voice sounded. I was impressed at how I moved smoothly from question to question, shifting direction to pick up on something the interviewee stated and then swinging back from there with my prepared inquiries.
Sometimes, I felt pleased about that ability and about the quality of my voice. At other times, I felt ashamed when my voice sounded bored, impatient, harsh, or judgmental. Was I embarrassed when the truth of my feelings came through in my tone or in my words? Yes. "Note the make-up of the word embarrassed," my insightful therapist used to say. "We are embarrassed when we are bare-assed."
Would I have preferred to have my voice mask these less-pleasing, uncomfortable emotional states? "Of course," asserts one part of me. "Not so," claims another part that yearns to be real, honest and true — all of the time. Sure, that's a tall order and, quite possibly, it is also the prescription to feeling fully alive by being energized by all of one's emotions.
Our Truth Revealed?
What is revealed in our voices — of yours and of mine? Does truth reside there, or does it hide?
When I was a child, I was very, very shy. Hey! What is this "when I was a child" stuff? I still am shy — reluctant and hesitant to show and to share who I am and what I am feeling.
When I was three or four years old, I used to hide behind my mother's skirt. She did the talking for me then, and I wonder how accurate it was. Today, I question how her words, best intentioned as they were, aligned with what was in my heart at that time. After all, no one can speak our truth for us.
Maybe, it was my difficulty with verbal self-expression then that led me to seek solace in my imagination and later to take the path of a writer so that I could put down on paper what I could not state out loud.
I wrote a poem several years ago, addressing that issue:
Childhood
Sound slides underground,
sings in the shadows,
sails on dark rivers,
dives into depths
where caverns
echo the beat
of my wordless
heart.
So, now, I wonder how accurate my voice is today. I am fifty-four years old. I have seen a lot of life; I have faced its challenges. I have lived a lot of life with its loves and losses. Do I speak my truth? Do I live my truth? These questions stay with me as I seek to do so.
© 2003 by Anne Kelly-Edmunds. All Rights Reserved
Bio:
Anne Kelly-Edmunds hopes that you hear her truth. You can contact her with your P.O.V. at annekellyedmunds@hotmail.com
Artist:
Michelle Barczykowski can be reached at barch30@attbi.com
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