I remember the very moment stage fright slipped into my being. In just a matter of seconds, I transformed from fearless to fearful; all because of one tiny shift just before my first church solo in 9th grade. I thought I was ready to make my debut as a soloist. I had completed my vocal warm ups, dressed in my finest Sunday clothes, and spent over an hour perfecting my fine, straight hair into the perfect 1980s Jersey bangs and curly puff. At the back of the small sanctuary, my voice teacher and I successfully practiced my favorite hymn, In the Garden, which I had been preparing for months. I indeed felt ready. But minutes before the service began, I saw my voice teacher fluttering around, moving wires, and setting up sound equipment. Unexpectedly, he set up a microphone in front of my face, and I stared at it as if it were a snake about to attack. This change was not planned. I didn’t practice with this foreign object, and, in all honesty, I was very happy with my soft, quiet voice. If people couldn’t hear me, they wouldn’t know if I made a mistake. With church now beginning, and my solo serving as the prelude, I didn’t have time to object. My teacher sat at the piano, smiled, and began to play the introduction. The intimidating snake of a microphone stared at me as I opened my mouth to sing the opening phrase. Fear blanketed me. My legs shook and my butt cheeks trembled. This unexpected nervous energy stole my breath, and I barely squeaked out the first few words. “I come to the garden al…” My throat slammed shut in the middle of “alone,” and a primordial grunt echoed throughout the church. I was mortified. My teacher, however, continued on as if this vocal explosion had been intended to be part of the song. In that timeless moment, I realized that the earth did not shatter and I still appeared to be alive. Rather than crawl and hide under the grand piano, I kept going, found my voice, and finished the hymn beautifully. Afterwards, church members kindly avoided mentioning the cavewoman grunt but instead encouraged me to keep at it. Stage fright, however, was now an unwelcome hitchhiker that stayed with me for my most of my career. But the curse eventually turned into a blessing, forcing me, in a sense, into the world of sound healing as I searched for ways to manage it. My path led me to ancient techniques and methods that shed new light on stage fright, fear, and stress. Slowly, I began to transform my fear into clarity and strength. I’ve learned to recognize fear for what it is. A bully. My studies have proven to me that sound indeed calms the proverbial raging beast. The techniques I work with sooth my inner bully, and, as a result, I’m living a less stressed and fearful life. What better time than now to share a few of these self-regulation practices with you? If you cannot join the October 15th live zoom event, I invite you to consider the three-month deep dive that begins February 2025. Sound Meditation Teacher Training. This program is open to all who wish to deepen their self-regulation practices, become comfortable with their voice, and expand their breath. My lifetime of walking hand-in-hand with, or sometimes being pulled and dragged by, fear has led me to develop specific techniques that are accessible to everyone. I can’t wait to share them with you!!! With love and healing, Denise Copyright 2024 Sound Awakenings LLC

Paddling on a Sound Wave The beach cam showed perfect conditions for my first paddleboard session on the ocean—low tide with minimal waves and a calm, clear expanse of sky and water. But once shin deep at the water’s edge, I had second thoughts. The waves looked huge. “Kneel on the back of your board,” Bill yelled from his board next to me. “Face into the wave and paddle HARD!” The wave crashed over my board as I paddled up and over it. Success! But more were rolling in. “Paddle, paddle, paddle!” He encouraged. I went sideways into the next wave, and it took me out. Four waves later, sopping wet and breathless, I had successfully bounced my way to my perceived destination, the flat, open ocean. But I immediately learned that it wasn’t flat, nor was it still. Huge swells moved below me as if I were riding a slow sound wave. As I tried to stand, my legs and feet trembled, longing for solid land. So far, this was NOT the meditative birthday paddle I had hoped for. A fish jumped in front of me, and I wondered what was feeding on it. My mind enjoyed the opportunity to create a story about a shark, a rogue wave, and the whale that feeds in this area on occasion. “Isn’t this beautiful?” Bill yelled over his shoulder, jarring me out of my fictional world. “I think so!” I was now paddling, my legs were steady, and I was making headway against the wind. It was actually beginning to be pleasurable, but it wasn’t at all what I had expected. I wonder how many “waves” we’ve paddled through already today. Perhaps it feels like an ocean during a hurricane. But we keep paddling. Breathing. Learning to face the waves head on with a strong paddle while not being distracted by the fictional sharks swimming around in our minds. The ride is bumpy, maybe even soaking, but we paddle, paddle, paddle, until we get to clearer waters and catch our breath. “Isn’t it beautiful?” “I think so!” I invite you to ride a sound wave with me just as soon as you can. With Gratitude, Denise Copyright 2024 Sound Awakenings LLC

I awoke one frigid January morning with the unexpected desire to organize my closets, drawers, and the laundry room—a rare, once-in-a-decade feeling that couldn’t be ignored. With my book recently completed, I made good use of the available free time. Arriving at the laundry room last, I hesitantly stuffed myself into the tiny space that was filled with necessary items, all with no place to go. As I shuffled through rags, tape, shoe polish, and other random supplies, an ear worm began to roll through my head. A song from long ago, almost another lifetime, and one that my dad and I shared a love for… “The Old Rugged Cross Made the Difference,” by the Gaither Vocal Band. In the dark, cramped space, I felt my dad’s presence. “Hi dad?” I wondered aloud. “Are you here?” I hoped so. On this particular morning, I was feeling alone and burdened with worry and fear. Finding the song on Spotify, I listened and let the memories and tears flow. The whole album played, as I continued to sift through laundry room clutter and old memories. Strangely enough, in a random bin, I found a photo of my dad from the 1990s. He was hovering over his toolbox in the garage. This photo, as far as I knew, was currently in that same tool box in my shed. How did it get to the laundry room? “Hi again,” I said, smiling through my tears. I placed the photo on the dryer and replayed “The Old Rugged Cross Made the Difference.” I’ve heard it said that we should talk to the dead as if they’re around. So, I did. I rambled, asking many questions but getting no answers. Returning to the photo, I picked it up. To my surprise, underneath—apparently out of nowhere—lay a key. An old, worn skeleton key. I had dreamt about that key a few years ago, and if you’ve read Journey to Sunyata, you’ll understand the reference. It’s a symbol of my dad communicating to me. The magic and mystery of a real key appearing underneath the photo was a remarkable gift at just the right moment. Blessings and gifts are all around us, from the grand appearance of a magical key to the tiniest heart-shaped rock or a simple song. I invite you to notice the unexpected blessings that warm our hearts and bring healing. Love, Light, and Song, Denise Copyright 2024 Sound Awakenings LLC

Bill and I were recently in Stowe, VT to view the solar eclipse with his sister and family. The boisterous group of 12 plus 7 excitable dogs, gathered around a friend’s pond for the totality. As it drew near, all became still. The robins took cover in the trees, the crows quieted their caws, and the dogs huddled close to us, gazing toward the shadowed sun. The darkening sky cooled the area a good ten degrees. And then – totality. A collective gasp drew us into presence, and we stood, frozen – embraced in a feeling of awe that both stole our breath and tickled us with excitement. Four amazing minutes passed as the eye of the eclipse commanded our attention. There was nowhere else to be. Planets appeared, and the horizon glowed cool colors. As the moon’s trajectory shifted to reveal the sun again, it was as if someone had flicked a light switch. The slightest sliver of the sun completely illuminated the landscape. The dogs’ confusion shifted into excited play, and they bounded toward the pond. We all giggled and hugged as if we’d experienced some sort of awakening. What struck me the most was that it took the full hour to fall slowly into darkness, but only a millisecond to shine fully again. The tiniest light dispelled the darkness. The tiniest of tiny. And, even when the sun was fully shadowed by the moon, it glowed around it. The light could not be extinguished. You matter. You make a difference. You are a shining light. Even in burdensome, frightening, or dark times, the light continues to shine within and around you. Be encouraged. Find things that nourish your soul, notice the magic around you, invite moments of awe, and shimmer. Thanks for you being you. With love, gratitude, and light, Denise Copyright 2024 Sound Awakenings LLC

A Light Offering I was born with a love for singing and as a young adult manifested everything my heart desired. I was the leading lady on the opera stage and making a humble living as a singer. I didn’t plan for stage fright to begin to dominate my thoughts, nor for the stress of the career to ultimately steal my love for singing. But it did. And then the perfect storm hit. My divorce, my father’s mental illness and an emotional crisis that had me terrified to go back to the stage. My heart was shut down and my breath could hardly sustain a phrase. Synchronicity led me to retreat for a week to an ashram in the Catskills. I hoped that a yoga retreat would help me find hope during the devastating time of loss. During that week, I was introduced to meditation and chant. As I sat in a roomful of “non-singers” bellowing chants in Sanskrit, my mind raced to figure out what I was singing about and to whom I was singing. I rustled through the chant book, searching for a translation. But in reading the translation, it meant nothing. In that moment, however, something very special happened. My heart began to feel the love in the room, and my ears began to hear the sincerity in the singing. My mind quieted and I felt the translation. It was that of love. The love I had lost, and a love beyond what I had ever felt before. Ever since that moment, I have been exploring and sharing meditation and chant with others. This is why I left an orchestra to sit with a singing bowl. This is why I chose to share A Light Offering with NPR’s Tiny Desk Contest. These challenging, noisy, and breathless times could use the balance of deeper breaths as well as music that offers a translation beyond what our minds can comprehend. That of love. Watch View Here Copyright 2024 Sound Awakenings LLC

Chloe’s Singing Bowl Some of you have met Chloe. She was a lab, a love, and my mother’s favorite “child.” Shockingly, both mom and Chloe were diagnosed with cancer the same week, just before Thanksgiving 2012. My mom, sadly, passed that New Year’s Eve. Sweet Chloe, however, stayed with me for another year. It was during this time that I attended my first singing bowl training and began to compile my first set of bowls. But the one bowl that was eluding me was the throat chakra bowl. I found this interesting because Chloe had a tumor near her throat and also because I’m a singer. The only good match was an expensive antique bowl that was beyond my budget. With hesitation, I purchased it, because I knew it was Chloe’s bowl. She loved the bowls. She’d get her toy and sit near me while I played them. After she’d fall asleep, I’d sweep her bowl around her throat chakra, as I was taught, and pray for healing. With the combination of chemo and sound treatments, Chloe went into remission for approximately 6 months. Chloe and I helped each other grieve. She stayed with me for that first raw year of loss and passed almost, to the day, one year after my mom. But, here’s the kicker. Shortly after her passing, a mallet flew out of my hand and into Chloe’s throat chakra bowl. The bowl broke. The expensive, one-of-a-kind antique treasure was truly Chloe’s bowl, and the sound brought us both moments of peace. Sending you love, light, and precious moments of peace, Denise Copyright 2024 Sound Awakenings LLC

"Today’s Day" “Wake up, it’s Christmas!” an unfamiliar, high-pitched voice chimed from the upstairs bedroom. I was puttering in the kitchen, excitedly setting out our traditional Christmas breakfast of homemade poppyseed bread and doughnut holes, when I heard the exclamation. Deciding the mysterious voice belonged to my mother, I let it go. She was probably egging on our two dogs, whose stockings boomed with treats, toys and, a surprise doughnut hole. With the downstairs shower flowing and my mom chattering upstairs, my parents were finally awake, and I couldn’t wait for the day to begin. This year was particularly special. My dad and I had agreed to save our pennies (and lots of dollars) to buy my mother a cherished Gorham porcelain doll named Chloe. Aside from her creepy and staring eyes, she was the most beautiful doll I had ever seen, and she stood poised in her box, dressed to the nines, ready to join my mother’s doll collection. At the ripe age of 14, I had never been so excited to give someone a gift as I was on this Christmas morning. To my surprise, however, my dad bounded down the stairs. “I thought you were in the shower!” I exclaimed. “Did you hear…” “Wake up, it’s Christmas?” he completed my sentence. “I thought that was you!” “It came from upstairs. It wasn’t mom talking to the dogs?” “No, she’s in the shower and the dogs are outside.” He paused. “But the voice came from down here. It really wasn’t you?” “Uh, no,” I replied. Our eyes met. My dad was a jokester, but I could tell that he was just as shocked as I was. “It’s got to be Chloe! She must be excited to meet your mom.” Only partially joking, he ran back upstairs to pull her out of her secret hiding place. I was a little freaked out. How could we both have heard the exact same thing? Was it the doll? An angel? Or our excited energy voicing itself? We never identified whom the mysterious voice belonged to, but, to be sure, Chloe was well-received, the dogs loved their stockings, and the appreciation of the day still resonates strongly in my heart. Just as excitement rose to create a mysterious voice one Christmas morning so long ago, I send that sincere message to each of you now but with a twist. “Wake up. It’s Today!” Through this unfolding human experience of “life,” we are walking in the miracle of life. Always dancing in the ether, miracles are waiting to be noticed, offering messages of encouragement, love and Divine blessings, especially during times of chaos, suffering, and devastation. “To those leaning on the sustaining infinite, today is big with blessings,”[1] writes Mary Baker Eddy. And Thich Nhat Hanh suggests, “We have holidays for so many special occasions…why not celebrate a day when we can live happily in the present moment all day long? I would like to declare today, ‘Today’s Day’, a day dedicated to touching the Earth, touching the sky, touching the trees, and touching the peace that is available in the present moment.”[2] Blessings may be deeply hidden by the murk of life’s challenges, but the subtle miracles are there for us to discover — hidden gifts voicing in the ether… “Wake up. ‘Today is big with blessings.’” Wishing you peace, love, and joy now and always, Denise P.S. I’ve been asked if Chloe was a talking doll. She was not. Except for that special Christmas day! [1] Mary Baker Eddy, Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures [2] Thich Nhat Hanh, Essential Writings Copyright 2023 Sound Awakenings LLC

During my week with Eckhart Tolle at Lake Louise in May, I experienced a most treasured, unplanned meal with five young strangers. On this particular evening, with a mix up in restaurant reservations, and only a short dinner break, we found ourselves sharing a table. Having sat for days in quiet contemplation, we were ready to use our words, and lively, animated conversation burst forth. We hardly noticed the food arriving. Upon seeing his meal, one of my new friends from Germany, through his laughter suggested, “This is so fun, but I wonder if we could explore eating in silent presence?” (A perfect Eckhart exercise.) Although I don’t remember what I actually ordered that evening, I vividly remember the eye contact I made with everyone as we communicated without words. Everything slowed down, and my senses kicked up like a zoom lens, focusing on taste, texture, and expression. We all delighted in each other’s delight and the presence of the moment was literally palpable. As I anticipate Thanksgiving, I giggle at the thought of asking my family to have a silent dinner. When not prepared for such an adventure, it’s more like stepping into hell than presence. But, I might suggest a silent offering for each of you. In your own space, in your own time, consider taking a bite or two from a state of inner awareness, respect and presence. Just for you. Secret inner nourishment. In addition, I’d like to share these 7 contemplations for mealtime from Planting Seeds by Thich Nhat Hahn. Which of these speaks to you? 1. This food is the gift of the whole universe: The earth, the sky, the rain, and the sun. 2. We thank the people who have made this food, especially the farmers, the people at the market and the cooks. 3. We only put on our plate as much food as we can eat. 4. We want to chew the food slowly so that we can enjoy it. 5. We want to eat in a way that nurtures our compassion, protects other species and the environment, and reverses global warming. 6. This food gives us energy to practice being more loving and understanding. 7. We eat this food in order to be healthy and happy and to love each other as a family. Offering you gratitude, love and peace now and always, Happy Thanksgiving, Denise Copyright 2023 Sound Awakenings LLC

One morning a few weeks ago, my bike and I ended up at the local surf shack, and somehow I found myself signed up for a surf lesson. I’ve always enjoyed observing the ease and grace of experienced surfers. Having developed their skills, they paddle fearlessly into the rough waters, knowing that, beyond the active waves is a place of stillness. With eyes on their goal, they paddle forward a few feet into the on-coming waves, only to be pushed several feet back. Persistent, they face the waves head on—going up and over; diving the board under and through; or in some cases, tumbling into the ocean washing machine. On the day of my lesson, I arrived oceanside, tucked tightly into my new wetsuit, hoping for “bunny slope” conditions, however, the incoming tide had other plans. As my surf instructor and I stepped into the “black diamond” ocean, he had me belly onto the board and pushed me confidently into the oncoming wave. “Hold on and push up!” Something like an upward-dog-plank-sphinx tried to form in my body, but, as the wave crashed over us, my hands slipped, my feet pushed into his chest, and we both went tumbling down. Forgetting the idea of clear waters ahead, my body fought hard to develop a new muscle set while also managing the challenging conditions. An hour and a hundred pushups later, my fatigued, waterlogged body amazingly found a different coordination, and I pushed up and stood on the board. I rode my first wave. For a millisecond, the wave and I were one. Ecstasy flooded me, and I was totally in the moment. Until I fell back into the ocean washing machine. What the lesson taught me: •Be in the moment or you’ll wipe out. •Even if you are in the moment, you might wipe out, but you’ll swallow less water. •Waves come in sets. When there is a lull, rest and catch your breath. •Be persistent. It will take time, but you will get there. •Once you’re there, you won’t be “there” for long. It takes ten minutes to get to the right spot, and one minute to ride the wave and fall off the board. •Try and try again. •Laugh often. To me, meditation is similar. It’s the process of developing the meditation muscle with the breath paddling us through the rough waters toward stillness. The clear waters are there. Always. Even if we are in the washing machine of life, we have all that we need to maneuver back to the divine connection that is already within us. Hold on, push up and enjoy the ride, dear friends. Love and Light, Denise Copyright 2023 Sound Awakenings LLC