Yoga for Vocalists

7 January, 2017
by Miki 1 Comment

An Interview with Graeme Macfarlane

Graeme Macfarlane is a tenor seen most recently in Melbourne in the role of Mime in Wagner’s Ring Cycle. I had the pleasure of first meeting Graeme a decade ago during the rehearsals of Stuart Maunder’s production of “Roméo et Juliette”. Graeme has been with Opera Australia for over 40 years.

Graeme has kindly agreed to be the subject of my first interview in this series. I met up with Graeme during the long interval of “Götterdämmerung” on its final day. Amongst other topics, we chatted about his career, his recent operations for rectal cancer, the Ring Cycle, and of course, voice.

How old are you, Graeme?

You’re currently working on The Ring with Opera Australia. Have you worked with other companies?

I have, but primarily, I’ve been with the company since 1973 for the first opera at the Sydney Opera House which was “War and Peace” as a chorister. I won the Sun Aria and worked overseas for several years.

I’d gone to the Con [Sydney Conservatorium] and they said why don’t you go down to audition in this building they’d just finished called the Sydney Opera House. So I went down and I did an audition. I received a contract saying I would be paid to sing… bit of a novel way to live (laugh).

So it just sort of evolved. My teacher put me into Eisteddfods and I won a few competitions… I thought maybe I can do this.

I had planned to go to university to study Science but… it all just fell into place.

If someone had asked me at school what I was going to do and they told me that I would be a singer, I would have laughed. It was the furthest thing from my mind.

How did you end up in the Con?

I was singing in a T.V competition called Holden Showcase with Gordon Boyd. I was learning singing at that stage. Ron Jackson heard me sing in the competition and said, “I want to offer you a scholarship to study at the Conservatorium”.

So, things just kept happening like that. I just followed that path. I discovered how much I liked it. I had started doing part-time work, but as soon as I started singing I thought: this is fantastic. I enjoyed it, it was fun, and sometimes hard work. I was lucky I had people along the way that guided me, without even looking for it.

Did you like opera before you started singing?

I didn’t know much about it. Very little. I always liked singing; as a kid I can remember singing all the time. Music was always in me. My dad conducted some choirs… dad was musical, but he never had a lot of formal training. My mother used to recite. So I guess it kind of makes sense, the combination.

Were your parents proud of your career?

Initially my dad wasn’t… he thought I should do something… proper. He wasn’t really negative, but he wasn’t totally supportive. Here I am, still going at 66. I feel incredibly privileged and lucky to do what I’ve done. To be able to express yourself is such a privilege. There’s a great joy in being able to do that.

Have you always been the same voice type?

I started as a baritone. I said to my teacher, “I think I could be a tenor”. I started to experiment. He said “well, you can’t really go back to being a baritone… but you can always give it a go”. A tenor has all the good things to sing anyway. It was a good decision because I found that I got more work than I would have as a baritone. I think my voice has always sat in between. A bit like Barry Ryan. Similar sort of range. Having said that, it’s not like I haven’t done difficult tenor roles.

Do you prefer character roles, or dramatic roles?

Look, I love the challenge of the Ring. And especially after having the operations. Lyndon [Terracini] said “How are you going to do this if you want to go to the toilet?” And I said, “Well, I’ve got my padded pants”. (laugh) So it was a challenge, and there was a part of me saying “can I do this?” but I was so pleased I did it, so I can sort of give myself a pat on the back for trying.

You had your first operation last year? Did you have to take time off?

I had my first operation in October 2015 and then you have to wait a while. I had an ileostomy reversal in February 2016. I tried to come back for “Turandot” after the second operation, but it had only been 10 days after, so I had to pull out of it. I ended up covering it, rather than doing it.

After the first operation, I think I had a couple of months off and the surgeon said to me: “You know, you need to consider how big an operation you’ve gone through”. I probably didn’t come to terms with it very well.

Before that, were you a healthy fit person?

I wouldn’t say I’ve always eaten well. Probably poor eating habits. I’ve never really exercised. I would say singing has always been my exercise. I used to play a little bit of golf but no, I haven’t really… bit naughty.

Have things changed since the operations?

I have to be so careful with what I eat because of my bowels. I don’t have a rectum any more. Sometimes it burns if I eat certain things. It wears you down a bit. He [the doctor] said it’s going to take a least 12 months to get some sense of normality. So I’m still going through that period.

Has this changed your state of mind?

I met this lady prior to me getting the cancer and we started a relationship. I told her that I needed to have a colonoscopy. I explained to her that I had one three years ago… and she said “well, look, if you had one 3 years ago it wouldn’t be cancer” but it was… and unfortunately she’s a doctor. Her father died of rectal cancer. So the relationship has now morphed into more of a friendship which is strange because we get along so well. She’s younger than me and I imagine in the back of her mind if I’m going to get sick she’s projecting that she’s going to have to look after me. I understand all that. So yes, it’s changed the state of my mind in many ways. I have learnt to accept what is. I still crave intimacy, and that doesn’t necessarily have to be physically. You know, a deep sharing. She’s been lovely and supportive. It’s funny how these people come into your life with the greatest of timing.

So now, do you do anything to stay well or fit?

I certainly care for what I eat, I haven’t done anything about fitness. I try and meditate. Not always successfully. My brain gets clouded with things coming in. I’ve always been on a bit of a spiritual journey because it fascinates me. It’s just the mystery of it. I’m so attracted to it. Recently I’ve qualified as a psychotherapist. I’ve seen clients – I had to see clients as part of the course. I can remember there was a client who was a bit stuck. Fortunately he was prepared to experiment. He was working through a marriage break up but couldn’t really articulate it. I said, would you be prepared to sing…without using any words, just vocalise, what you would like to say to her. He started with this lament…(Graeme demonstrates with a wail turning into more of a scream) and he just burst into tears. So the vocalising connected him to his emotions. I thought wow, voice can combine well with therapy which is sort of what you’re doing [referring to my yoga]. So I have ideas about that.

I studied as a Gestalt psychotherapist. Gestalt is open to art medium. It’s very broad in its spectrum for meaningful contact. I really love Gestalt. It’s really fantastic stuff.

How do you prepare for a show? Do you meditate, do other things?

I get in the shower in the morning, have a bit of sing. “Yeah, it’s sitting ok today, I have a voice”. Then I might just mentally go over what I’m going to do. I do it for the Ring because there’s so much of it. For a smaller role, I’d just work my voice in the morning, but wouldn’t necessarily go over it musically. Just depends on what I’m doing. I rest myself when I need to rest. I put myself in isolation sometimes because I feel I need it. It can be very demanding. In order to bring as much as I can, I need to look after myself in that respect. That can be different from individual to individual. I spent some time with Stefan [Vinke] and… he’s a party boy! My god, how does he do this?! He’s extraordinary. He’s a machine. He just has that facility. I couldn’t do that.

Do you sleep regularly?

Well, my bottom was sore one night…Monday? Sunday? I would’ve slept an hour. I was up and down, up and down. I’ve got a show on Wednesday, so I got a bit anxious about that. I feel like I’ve been balancing my health at times in order to keep going.

But you look so well!

I know, people say that! I’m pretty tenacious.

What do you do on a rest day or to wind down?

I’ve been doing a bit of reading. It’s been nice coming down to Melbourne as I find I can rest more here. Its because I’m away from home. My father has been a drain on me (he’s just been put into a nursing home).

Do you listen to music when you’re not singing?

No… reading more… no, I don’t really listen to music that much. Whatever I’m doing at the time, I’m totally involved in it. I can feel my brain switching now from Wagner to Bohème. Which is good, and you bring something from everything you do into whatever you’re doing at the time. Which is wonderful. I think Mime is a culmination of everything I’ve learn on the way. It’s great.

While you’ve been performing, you’ve been rehearsing during the day?

Yeah, I had a rehearsal today – not very much. It’s pretty good like that when you’ve got big roles they let you rest when you need to. Next year’s a bit different because we haven’t got a venue (referring to the refurbishment of the Opera House). They’ve asked me to take a lot of long service leave. Which is good. I’m going to tidy up my dad’s house.

What are your thoughts on overweight singers? Do you think losing weight would affect their voices?

It shouldn’t make any difference. But sometimes I wonder about that because I have heard people who lost a lot of weight and their voice didn’t sound the same. So I couldn’t give you a definitive answer there. Being overweight shouldn’t affect the sound…anyway, it’s not good for your health. Warwick (Fyfe) is like a different man. He’s lost so much weight. That shows that you don’t need all that weight to sound great. I do get concerned with people who are overweight as It affects their health.

Do you have any advice for young singers?

I never give advice (laugh). Dean [Bassett] often asks me to come and listen to his singing. All I’ve done is to encourage him to go for it. To follow his dreams. I haven’t really told him he should do this or do that. It’s broader, it’s more supportive encouragement to follow your heart.

Do you teach?

I have taught. A long time ago. I don’t see myself as teaching. I see singing more as an expression of the self. For me what’s important is what comes out as a means of authentic communication. It’s like finding your own true voice which can be very powerful. That’s more what I’m driven by -the quality of expressing the authentic you and all the colours that it brings. You know, you can make ugly sounds some times, and they’re ok. It’s the whole gamut. It’s all valid. I love polarities and I love the idea of embracing both ends of the polarity.

When you prepare for a role, what comes first? Music first?

Yes I learn the notes and the language. Then I explore the character. It was interesting with exploring Mime. I found a bit of humour in him that I think is part of his humanity. So it wasn’t funny for fun’s sake, it just evolved out of what we created.

I found that your interpretation of Mime is more human. Even though he has his evil side like wanting to kill his adopted son for the riches, it almost has the sense that Siegfried is the horrible son.

Well, Mime’s been abused by his brother especially in “Rheingold”, and Mime is manipulative. A parent playing the martyr is a very common human expression. I think that’s what you relate to.

Wagner takes you on a journey with him. That’s what I love about it. It’s pretty profound stuff. So I do go internally, but I do that for myself. It’s part of my journey, my individual journey. What I become aware of and what I then bring forward.

You’ve been working with Neil [Armfield] who is known more to be a director of plays – did you work more on the character? Being such a large production it must be difficult to find time to work on characters.

Yes, more on the character. It instinctively happens. Once you find the character it just flows. Moffat [Oxenbould] is a bit like that too because he always discusses the character a lot. Which I love. He does give you direction, but he allows you to take ownership of it in the end, which is really rewarding and that’s why I love working with Moffat and Neil. They try to go in and look at the true character. I like that with directors. Rather than just being directed to do this and do that. It makes it more real. More believable.

I love Neil. He’s amazing. He’s very softly spoken. It doesn’t look like he’s doing much but he is. He’s doing a whole lot and he’s got a great eye. He’s been busy with the Adelaide Festival and then he was off to America to direct the Magic Flute.

And Gale [Edwards], she’s interesting, too. She has such a creative mind. So I like her too. They’re all very different.

Did your character of Mime change much from the first time (2013)?

I think it’s grown a little bit more, Neil tweaked it a bit more and we had a more time.

Was it a different experience with a different cast?

Yes, a slightly different dynamic. But I was mostly with Siegfried and Wotan I guess. Stefan’s lovely. He’s such a good energy. We actually built up a nice relationship working together. He’s really a lovely man. I don’t know whether you’ve heard but he did a charity concert for a little boy [Lukas Thamm, a young boy in Germany with heart problems]. Lyndon said that Stefan was almost in tears talking about it. So he has that caring side. I think that’s part of it, you know. It’s connecting to your own humanity.

Do you find you get lost in a role: has a role changed you?

It possibly can make me think about me. That’s a really interesting question. I guess I’m finding greater depth in myself, so that would be the change. That would be the new awareness. I just love going inside. I’m addicted to it.

What do you consider to be “no no’s” for singers?

Well, you just can’t have late nights and drinking. You just can’t do that. You’ve got to look after yourself. No wild nights (laugh). At the end it’s ok.

Considering you were looking at moving towards Science, did you have something you wanted to be when you were younger?

No… I didn’t really know. I love relationship, I love exploring relationships. In fact, that’s how I learn about myself, through others. Reflection.

Do you plan to continue a parallel career with your singing and psychotherapy?

I can still see myself singing music, maybe therapy. I’d like to write some songs. That’s another passion of mine. There are these Upanishads which are written in Sanskrit – deep and meaningful philosophy – I’d like to write some songs incorporating the Sanskrit. Yeah, philosophy interests me.

Sound and healing is also a passion. I read this book by a New York oncologist who uses Tibetan singing bowls with his patients. A doctor using sound for healing. People like my father with Alzheimer’s, can hear a song from their childhood and they’ll start bursting into song, even though they haven’t spoken for ages. It is deep within us, the memory of song.

There seems to be something about music that relates to body rhythms…

It’s called Entrainment. There’s something about things coming into sync like two grandfather clocks whose pendulums were out of sync, eventually in the same room they come into sync. It’s about sound and balancing -similar frequencies that vibrate in resonance with each other. There was an ear, nose and throat specialist who had actually worked with singers. He discovered that by taking out the lower frequencies, he can help children with autism. So that’s sound that heals. They still use that today for children with autism. It’s basically upper frequency Mozart.

The next thing for you is La Bohème?

Yes, and then I think “Tosca”, then I have a break. Then it’s “Parsifal” – concert version – then (Merry) Widow. That’s going to be the New Years’ Eve one. So I’ll probably be around a little bit longer. I’ll keep working as long as I can because I enjoy it. It’s hard to give up.

Thank you very much, Graeme!

18 January, 2015
by Miki Leave a comment

Accepting life’s mysteries

Have you had experiences that were out of the ordinary, left of centre, totally unexpected, that changed your life for better or for worse…or just changed the course of your life so much that it doesn’t feel real?

Something happens out of the blue. An opportunity, an event, something so profound that even if it is a positive thing, it throws you off kilter.

What do you do, how do you cope? How do you maintain equilibrium so that you can move ahead?

No, I am not going to preach today and just say “so… do yoga”. That’s not the point of this post. It’s more of an… outpour of rambling thoughts as I face this new year with hope, curiosity, some trepidation of what it may hold.

We are humans, and even if your personality is such that you always seek out the new, we do tend to find some comfort in routines, in what is comfortable and what we can understand. But life isn’t always like that. It can throw curve balls at us when we least expect it to. Or, even if we were expecting something, when it finally arrives it frightens us just because it is so new, so different. Fear of the unknown, the inexplicable.

Then we often over analyse, trying to work it out, instead of just accepting and going with the flow. Or at least, some of us do. Others are able to just let things happen, without judgment, without prejudice, without doubts which can later cloud the experience. If you are like me, then you think too much, scared of making the wrong choice, of stepping into the unknown, of being hurt.

Is it better, do you think, to break things down, to fully understand a situation in order to make the best of it or to sail through it with confidence? Or is it better to let go and let things just happen – because life is a mystery after all?

My “day job” is as a business analyst. It is my job, my duty, to analyse, to determine if something is feasible, worthwhile and can be done / created with as few flaws as possible, preferably with no stones unturned as to what may happen. OK, that works well for developing a piece of software that is a collection of binaries defined by a set algorithm of “if this, then that, or else”.

But if I try to apply that to life… nope, just doesn’t compute in the same way. Logic doesn’t seem to apply. Maybe something like the chaos theory can explain things. Butterfly flapping its wings somewhere causing a storm elsewhere…

Que sera, sera. Sometimes you just can’t understand or take control. The best you can do is to try to have an accepting mindset of whatever may eventuate; to have an open mind and innocent curiosity for whatever may come. Probably easier said than done. But I’m going to open my wings and step off the ledge. Otherwise, I’ll never know, and THAT I will regret.

4 November, 2014
by Miki Leave a comment

A heartfelt breath

Recently, I was asked where I breathe from. It took me a few moments to answer, considering the angle of my response: anatomical, philosophical, metaphysical? My eventual response was: my heart centre. I say this because I feel that the breath is closely related to emotions. When one is stressed, breathing may become erratic or shallow. Excited? You may find yourself breathing more rapidly. A sighing breath can have many emotions attached. And have you ever felt you can breathe more freely when you are happy and relaxed?

As with previous blog posts, I am not talking here from any learned medical perspective, just my own observations. For me, it makes sense to connect the breath with what I call the heart centre, the centre of emotions. If I were to be scientific then I’d probably locate the source of emotions to be somewhere in the brain, some neural synapse / chemical reaction causing chain reactions in the body. Whatever the medical truth may be, however, there has been research that has found that people with broken hearts CAN have an actual physical reaction causing actual pain in the “heart” – stimulation of the vagus nerve, weakening of the heart muscles…and there has been tests where a painkiller (such as that you take for a headache) has been effective in relieving a heartache!

Here’s one interesting article: http://www.psychologicalscience.org/index.php/publications/observer/2013/february-13/why-love-literally-hurts.html

Then there’s the heart chakra. As with all things yogic, there are many different schools of thought about the significance of each chakra, but many speak of the heart chakra as being connected to the respiratory system as well as the cardiovascular system; that it governs emotions and that imbalance of the heart chakra can manifest in, amongst other physical ailments, respiratory conditions such as asthma and pneumonia.

Of course, in reality in the medical sense you don’t anatomically breathe through your heart or the area that I call the “heart centre” – it’s the movement of the diaphragm

Whatever you believe in, you may have experienced difficulty breathing deeply when you are upset, deeply saddened, or in fact have a broken heart. And for me, when I am in such a state, making the effort to breathe deeply and calmly can often assist me in feeling better.

In a workshop I attended earlier in the year, A.G. Mohan and Indra Mohan taught about breathing from the heart centre. On the inhalation, you breath from the heart centre as if it expands – like a blossom – and on the exhalation, the breath retracts to the heart centre, not as a collapse inwards but a containment. This explanation really appealed to me: the opening outwards with the intake of air so that whilst the air is being drawn in, there is a sense of the heart energy emanating outwards. The prana – life force – that is controlled by your breath, is energised and distributed throughout the body. Then, as you exhale, the energy is drawn inwards and upwards from the heart towards the crown of the head, towards the heavens. A sense of uplifting. Isn’t that a lovely imagery?

I’ve found that others relate to this as well, and “breathing through the heart” is seen as a method of stress relief, of clearing your mind, a sort of meditation.

So now, in my classes, I talk about breathing from the heart centre. Not your actual heart that pumps blood, but that place where you feel your emotions. At the very least, it gives you a point of focus for your breathing. And hopefully, you’ll feel the benefits as well! Open up your heart, let your emotions be free, breathe…

31 August, 2014
by Miki Leave a comment

That which makes a performance great..?

What makes a great performance? In singing I mean.

I should preface my post today that what I say is just purely my thoughts pouring out, not based on technical expertise. And this is a topic I’ll probably come back to time and again, and may in the future even cringe reading back what I wrote today. I apologise if I sound like a snob. Anyhow…

For now, let’s take away the physical aspects so we focus on the vocal qualities rather than, say, the looks of a singer.

In acting, the tonal quality of a voice may be viewed differently to that in singing. An actor may have a gruffy, scratchy or some other type of voice which may not necessarily be pleasant to listen to, but may be considered a “character” voice suited to the role. So, if the voice fits the role or it adds another dimension to the role, then it may be considered a “good voice” as long as it carries across to the audience and you can understand what is being said.

In singing, depending on the genre, you may have a similar type of voice. Tom Waits, Bob Dylan, Marianne Faithful, Patti Smith, Jimmy Barnes to name a few (sorry, I’m not that knowledgeable with non-classical singers so my range is limited) have very distinct voices that are like their trademark sounds and you can’t imagine them singing in any other way. But would their voices translate to classical singing? If Tom Waits sang Otello, would that be accepted by the opera crowd? Probably not. But he can be more expressive in his songs than some opera singers. I’ve also seen opera performances where the voice is beautiful, but it just doesn’t suit the role because it sounds “too clean / good”.

So what is it that makes some (vocal) performances just good singing, as opposed to something truly amazing that takes you away, moves you to tears (or laughter or whatever – I must admit, my preference is for the tragedy!)?

When I was acting, I sometimes got pulled up and told I was putting too much “colour” into the words. I liked playing with the sound of the words – the tone, emphasis, duration – which to me made them more expressive. But that doesn’t really translate. Similarly, you can’t really play too much with the words in singing. You need clear diction, you need to often change the pronunciation somewhat to creat a strong, open sound. And that, on top of hitting the note!

Which takes me to another point. Personally, it annoys me when singers are slightly flat or sharp. And if they have too much vibrato that you can’t hear the actual note. SO there are some singers hailed as amazing whose voices I don’t really like. I guess that’s just preference. But I also worry too much if a singer shows signs of struggling to hit that high note. Once that happens (the struggle that is) in a performance, I spend the rest of the show worrying. And that takes away from my enjoyment of the show, and of being able to “let go” and immerse myself in the story. Of course, if a voice was technically perfect (perfect pitch, uniform vibrato, correct length of notes) then it probably would sound horrible – and you might as well write a computer program to create the sound. So is it the minute human imperfection that makes a singing voice great? Perhaps. Timbre, vibrato, all that make up the unique voice of a singer, and I’m no expert so I’ll leave that topic to you who have been practicing technique for years. But I think there is more to it.

The word that’s been in my mind lately (having spent a few crazy weeks full of opera) is “inhabit”. Although I practice yoga, those of you who have been to my classes know that I don’t go into full spiritual mode. I don’t invoke gods, I don’t do much of “channeling your inner spirit”. I tend to focus more on the tangible level of human emotions. After all, who hasn’t felt all choked up in the throat from despair; felt a cold sweat from fear; dizzy in the head from disbelief; knots in their “stomach” from anger? Those real emotions I like to tap into (don’t worry, I don’t reduce you to a sobbing mess from distress in the classes!). Not “inhabit” with some astral body thing or divine / demonic possession or the like. And I think that when singers can tap into these real emotions and sensitivities when performing, they “inhabit” the song, the role. Sort of like “method acting” I suppose, although there’s a lot of debate over what that is and whether it is effective or not.

I recently saw the play “Master Class”. In it, Maria Callas exclaims that you must really listen to the music, and understand and feel the words in order to sing well. Basic stuff that everyone knows, but it resonated strongly with me at that moment. The difficulty is that you can’t get all choked up as Butterfly about to top yourself, and be able to sing. You still need to have the control, the openness, all the techniques in place. Cry if it suits, but you can’t let that affect your singing. Your character may be feeling defeat, which you can express in the voice, but not let it weaken or distort the voice. You may be dying, and you should make it convincing, but you still have an aria to sing. Which means, of course, you must have the strong technical basis to be able to inhabit the song without letting it negatively affect the singing.

Actually, maybe it’s the other way around. Great arias have it all: the notes, the lyrics, the dynamism, the composition. Maybe you just need to let it inhabit you, not vice versa.
Some singers are great actors – until they are about to sing their arias, when all the drama and character they’ve built up until that point is diminished as they technically prepare for the song. They can still sing beautifully, but something is lost. They are no longer inhabiting or inhabited. Is it just practice, or have some got the “gift”? The little spark that differentiates them from the masses? Inhabiting / being inhabited so that every little move, every single note and every intention is infused with that character, the role. Callas, Lenya, Piaf – it was more the way they inhabited their songs than (in my opinion) the so-called quality of their voices.

That sadness you have when a season finishes and you have to let go of a role. You miss bringing that character to life on stage even if he / she dies a horrible death each night, and you can’t sleep for hours after a show. Not just from the adrenaline of the applause, but the letting go of that character and becoming you again. Until the next performance, the next show, when you can inhabit and be inhabited.

5 August, 2014
by Miki Leave a comment

Balance!

I had the pleasure of meeting the delightful Ms Judith Hopper on the weekend, and our conversation then started me thinking about “balance”. So this post is my rambling thoughts on the subject, by no means an authoritative thesis on what balance is. Read on, and let me know your thoughts.

The word “balance” can mean a lot of different things across different areas and have different connotations depending on the circumstance and context. And what may seemed “balanced” for one person may seem “un-balanced” to another. And whilst we mainly think of achieving balance, this may not be the case. I don’t know much about art composition, but I’m sure some artists deliberately seek “un-balance” in their artworks to create interest / movement / challenge the viewer or audience.

In the context of yoga…We generally try to find and create balance through the practice, and practice with balance. We do the same poses on both sides so that we are “balanced”. We find our balance through standing balances and arm balances. We balance out the energy fields and channels in our body through yogic practices (not just the asana – poses – but also through other aspects such as breathing, use of mudras, meditation, and so on).

Doing the same poses on both sides is an interesting notion. How often in our daily lives do we make sure that we do the same things to both left and right? Many of us are not ambidextrous and use one hand to write, move the mouse, gesture, pick up the spoon. We often cross the same leg on top when sitting (warning! sitting cross legged is not recommended – although I confess I am guilty of the practice myself). Compared to the 1 – 3 hours you might spend in a day doing yoga balancing yourself out, the “un-balanced” time can be much longer. Does that mean we can’t achieve balance? Or is a little bit of conscious “balancing” better than none?

And even if you do make sure your practice has symmetry, one tends to favour a side. This could be physical (e.g. “my left hamstring is tight so I can only lunge deeply on the right side”) or perhaps there is a mental aspect to this. When I was a dancer, I was a “right spinner” – I was comfortable doing pirouettes to the right, but when it came to turning anti-clockwise, I felt like I was going to bash into a wall, like it made no sense to try to turn that way (maybe it’s just my lack of technique!). I’ve heard some yoga teachers say that if you find it much easier to do things to the right, then you should practice twice as much on the other side. Would that end up balancing you out?

Then there is the actual practice of balancing, like when you stand on one leg in the tree pose (vrksasana) or in the dancer’s pose (natarajasana). You do get better at it when you start to find (subconsciously) the correct muscles to use, the subtle shift of your weight to centre yourself, and also learn to trust yourself. But sometimes, you just can’t balance. I tend to think that this is symptomatic, in that similar to a fever indicating that your body is fighting some infection or disease, your physical balance is a physical indication of some imbalance within.

Which leads to the idea that all things are connected. Your emotions affect your health. Your state of mind affects your health and emotions. Your health can affect your feelings. All interconnected. So, if being stressed and angry can cause you to have a breakdown, develop a nasty cold or shut down your internal organs, then in a much more subtle way it must certainly affect the way you can (or can’t) balance. If your mind is too busy, full of thoughts, racing ahead – then you won’t have the calmness, steadiness and focus to be able to balance. What would be interesting to find out is, how different states of mind would affect balance on the left or right sides, considering we now know that different hemispheres of our brains have different functions. I shall do a bit of digging into that – there must be some research done on this.

On a more practical note, balance in our everyday lives keeps us literally on our feet. And when we start to lose the ability to balance, through age or health issues, then we are more susceptible to falls and injuries and limit our movement. Imbalance even on a small scale can affect posture, which in turn can lead to various disorders and discomforts. Judith mentioned machines that measure balance. Doing a bit of Google research, I found information on lots of simple tests that are conducted to measure balance, which might just involve a stopwatch to see how long a person can balance in different ways, such as standing on one leg. On a higher technical level, there are devices and sensors to mechanically determine your level of balance. This article talks about the many different methods and tools for measuring balance: http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3033730/. And if you want to do a fairly basic test, try this: http://www.aahf.info/pdf/Berg_Balance_Scale.pdf. All these tools can help to identify and assess risks from lack or decline of balance.

Then how does one develop / improve balance? We go back to how yogic practices can assist, through the poses, the breathing, and the meditation for physical and mental balance. Not only does yoga deal with the left-right balance, but it also relates to the energy vortexes along the vertical axis of the body: the chakras. Chakras can seem like metaphysical mumbo-jumbo, but the theory is that they are related to actual tangible entities within the endocrine system. Of particular interest to you singers would be the 5th or throat chakra, which is tied to the thyroid, parathyroid and hypothalamus glands. This chakra is connected to communication and expression – essential for the singing performer – and those endocrine glands relate to growth, metabolism, calcium levels, muscle health, hormonal balance… the list goes on. But you don’t just “balance” one chakra, because the imbalance comes from hypo- or hyperactivity of each chakra. So, they all need to be in balance for you to be in balance, energetically and in health.

So… you can practice yoga to balance your body, balance your chakras. But you need to then balance THAT with other aspects of your life. You can’t just do an hour’s yoga each day to justify spending the rest of the day arguing and stressing yourself out, eating badly, not getting enough sleep. Is balance, then, moderation? If we walk the middle line in all aspects of life, are we balanced? That seems RATHER boring (in my humble opinion). One needs challenge, one needs stimulation, one needs to learn from dealing with the various obstacles in life – just as much as one needs quiet time, time out, time to recover and rejuvenate. So, it the peaks and troughs, I think, rather than a flat two-dimensional line. Life is unpredictable as it is; how often would you have a totally flat day unless you’re living in a controlled bubble?

The last thought of the day: so then, are we happy if we’re totally balanced (although that is probably like achieving perfection – a utopian concept)? Would we actively or unconsciously try to shift and challenge our balance just so that we can discover it again? Are humans innately “un-balanced”? Are we “doomed” (or perhaps “blessed”) by imbalance in the same way that we are “doomed” (or again, blessed!) with mortality?

OH dear, will I be able to sleep tonight? I haven’t even touched on the notion of balance = harmony… next time!

27 July, 2014
by Miki Leave a comment

The Journey

People often ask me: “Have you been doing yoga for a long time? You’re so flexible!”. Well, no. I haven’t. I’m not one of those teachers who have been practicing since they discovered yoga at a young age, spent hours on the mat each day, gone to retreats in India and Bali.

I did come across yoga when I was younger. As a performer (way back then) yoga was offered as one form of the daily warm-up practices we did, intermingled with contemporary dance and ballet classes, a sprinkling of pilates and whatever training was deemed useful for the production I was in. Some of you have heard me say this already: I didn’t like yoga AT ALL back then. I was prone to getting headaches, so I hated doing inversions with the blood rushing to my head. I was extremely impatient, so the notion of holding poses (or, heavens forbid, sitting and MEDITATING!) was horrifying. And I didn’t know why we had to jump up and down saluting the sun.

It was just circumstance. I just wasn’t in the right frame of mind, and the teachers and their teachings / methods didn’t appeal to me.

So then, not long ago, in the quest to get back into doing something physical again (especially after suffering from brachial neuritis – but that’s another story) I found myself in a gym that happened to have very good yoga teachers. I can’t even remember why I decided to go to a yoga class then. And suddenly, I found yoga again. I enjoyed and related to it so much that I ended up training to be a teacher and here I am.

But what I’m not setting out today is to write my yogic autobiography.

What I want to say is, that having been a dancer, YES I was more flexible even after years of not dancing. YES, I have a good sense of rhythm and spatial / body awareness. So YES, it was easy for me to “assume” yoga. And with my (secretly) competitive show-off nature, no wonder yoga appealed to me in those early days of my practice.

What I learnt since then, however, is that it’s not about getting that beautiful line in your pose, being able to balance on your arms, doing the splits or standing on your head. It’s all about the journey and the control and mindset you develop in walking that path. THat’s how yoga should be: from the inside out. You find your intentions, your frame of mind. You drop your ego, you develop focus, you learn to breathe. And the body follows. So I had it the WRONG WAY ROUND. I had to work backwards, especially as I wanted to be able to teach.

It’s easy to tell someone, “your warrior pose would look much nicer with your arms extended, shoulders down, front let at a 90 degree angle and your hips squared”. It’s similar to fixing someone’s arabesque in a ballet class. But even in ballet, it’s those with a deeper connection beyond (or rather, within) the body that excel in the art, not the ones that can leap the highest or do the most pirouettes. It’s those who are able to touch the hearts and imagination of the audience.

OK, so yoga is not a performance, so there is a difference. It’s really just for YOU (don’t get me started on the topic of yoga as sport. Aaaahhhhh!!!). But as performers, as singers, surely the only way you can reach out to your audience is by discovering yourself, tapping into the reality that is you, and being able to use your whole being, body and soul, to express and connect?

My personal yoga journey therefore has been to work my way inwards. From the exterior poses to finding myself inside. Yes, I do sometimes go for the more advanced poses, but it’s so that I can struggle, rather than find it easy to “strike a pose”. I want to go through the frustration of not being able to do something, the discovery of the meaning of a pose or practice (what does it do, what benefits can it bring), the acceptance of how far my personal body and mind can go in that effort. And when I can go through this journey, then I find true contentment in practicing yoga.

But then I don’t burn incense, invoke the gods (of any denomination), read affirmative quotes and burn candles in my classes to invoke spirituality. Not that I have anything against teachers who do (and I may do so if it feels right one day). I do talk initially a lot about alignment and breathing, more so than I talk about your soul. Why? Because you still need to be safe in your practice. No, it’s not about getting your leg up there, but if you’re going to do a pose, you should do it correctly so that you protect your body, strengthen your body and in doing so you are able to let go of that body – in time, the alignment etc becomes second nature so that you can start to dig deeper and find what you need in the yoga practice. If you’re worried about twisting your hips or hurting your lower back, then how will you find focus, rid yourself of anxiety, find poise and become more aware of your whole self to add to your performance skills?

My yoga that I share with you performers is not about becoming an amazing yogi. And I don’t profess to be an amazing yogi. As they say, you never stop learning in yoga. And it’s the same in life, isn’t it? I struggle with letting go of my competitive nature. I struggle with getting up in the morning to teach an early class. I struggle with finding time for my own practice. YEY!

Then when I teach, I sometimes wonder “are you getting what you want from this class?”. And then someone would come up to me after class and say “thank you, that was beautiful”. And it all feels worthwhile and “right”. If you walk away from my class with one small thing, be it a sense of achievement (for having made it through a cold Melbourne winter to get to class), a feeling of relaxation or better mobility in those stiff shoulders of yours, then I’M HAPPY. And hopefully there are more subtle seeds being planted that will grow and help you with your singing, your performance. Yes, it takes time, it takes dedication, but hey let’s enjoy the journey together and have a bit of fun along the way.

“I’m glad I don’t know everything, Dorothy, and that there still are things in both nature and in wit for me to marvel at.”
― L. Frank Baum, Glinda of Oz

18 July, 2014
by Miki Leave a comment

The Ujjayi Breath and Singing

The Ujjayi Breath. Defined as the Victorious Breath, victorious over the “chitter chatter of your mind”. If you’ve been to yoga classes, you’ve no doubt come across this form of breathing practice. People describe it in many different ways, ranging from a soothing oceanic wave-like breath to something that sounds like Darth Vader is breathing down your neck. And depending on the teacher and the individuals practicing, the room can be silent or… sound like there’s a Star Wars convention with everyone pretending to be DV.

When I first learned about the Ujjayi Breath, I was told to breath through my nostrils but “slightly constrict the glottis, the base of your throat, so that you have a rasping sound in your breath”. To a singer, that word “constrict” may ring alarm bells, as singing is all about control but without tension.

The good thing about making a sound is that you are more aware of your breath. And being aware of your breath, keeping it smooth and constant, is something you do want in a yoga practice. The sound, if not too loud, can also have a calming effect on the mind. Some sources say that it soothes the nervous system and can lower your blood pressure. So in those early days I dutifully became a mini ocean – not too loud, but making an audible sound in my throad.

But as a singer? The tension does sound problematic. I read in one source that the fact that you are forcing your breath through a constricted throat is too drying for the throat and vocal chords. But then, others say that practicing Ujjayi has improved resonance. Calming the mind sounds like a good thing to do, before a sing, before a performance.

As you may know, practically everything about yoga has been debated: it’s good, it’s not, you should do it this way, no you should not. I’m sure it’s the same for singing methodologies and techniques. So in the end, it really depends on what works for you and what you get benefit from – but in the process of finding this out, you don’t want to do any irreparable damage!

I recently attended a workshop with AG Mohan, who was a direct disciple of Krishnamacharya – often called the “Father of Modern Yoga”, the man who taught the likes of Iyengar. The workshop was focussed on the importance of breath and the significance of breath. I will go more into his teachings in another post, but I would like to share what he (and his lovely wife Indra) spoke about in regards to the Ujjayi breath.

Basically: Ujjayi breath, according to Mohanji, is not about making the sound. It’s about feeling the breath and being more in touch, being conscious about the breath. You don’t need to make a sound at all. Feel the breath as it enters your nostrils, through your nasal cavity, down the throat, filling your lungs. Then, especially on the exhalation, control the breath so that it’s a steady stream of air. Not by blocking your throat. Singers would have their own techniques to not collapse their lungs too quickly, controlling the flow of air to sustain a quality sound.

You need to breathe to live. For singers, the breath gives you your voice. In yoga, controlling the flow of breath is said to control the flow of prana (life force, life energy) through your body. So it makes sense to be aware of your breath, not only just when you sing, but when you are moving as well.

So… I put a lot of focus on the breath in my yoga teaching. And Ujjayi breath is a part of this, but it isn’t so that you ALWAYS use Ujjayi breathing. To me, it’s one of the many tools that yoga brings to help you become more in tune with yourself, your instrument. By all means, if you attend other classes that encourage loud Ujjayi breathing and it feels right for you, go for it! Every teacher will have different thoughts, and every yoga practitioner, be they singers or not, will also have different experiences with the Ujjayi breath.

13 July, 2014
by Miki Leave a comment

Welcome to Yoga for Vocalists

Hello! Thank you for visiting my site.

My name is Miki. I’m an ex-dancer / actor still dabbling occasionally in directing / producing; opera lover, yoga teacher and crazy cat lady-in-the-making.

After thinking about this for a couple of years I’m finally launching my Yoga for Vocalists. It’s yoga for those who sing, be it opera, musicals, pop, jazz, or just for yourself in the shower (I sing in the car on the way to work)! Also for those who use their voice in other ways, as in acting, voice overs, public speech.

This is my way of combining my love of yoga and admiration for the art and craft of singers. A way of giving back to those who bring joy to my life through the voice, and to bring my experience as a performer myself to the practice of yoga.

No, I can’t promise you a role at the MET or a win on The Voice by practicing yoga with me… but I’m sure you’ll have a lot to benefit from by coming along on this journey with me. I don’t profess to know everything, so I will be learning as much as you.

So… come and join me on the mat. Move the body, chill out, have some fun.

I’m starting off with a free class on Wednesday 16th of July 2014. 6pm at the Performance Medicine studio. Open to all, beginners welcome! Classes will be kept small-ish, so please make a booking by calling (03) 9820 1324 and let the lovely receptionists at Performance Medicine that you’d like to attend!