Sounds Like You
- Keren Levi-Faran
- May 7, 2024
- 1 min read
Updated: Jul 28
On the quiet practice of sounding like yourself
You speak
But not every word is yours
Some arrive dressed in fear
Some echo a parent’s pause
Some are sharpened for protection
Some are softened to survive
And somewhere in between
You forget what your voice sounded like
Before you learned who you had to be
The frequency of the real
Your voice is not your sound
It is your shape
It is the texture of truth when you stop rehearsing
and begin remembering
Narrative therapy asks
Who’s speaking through you
Fear?
Performance?
Someone else’s disappointment?
Carl Rogers suggested that when outer voice meets inner truth, what we find isn’t volume.
It’s resonance
When the mic isn’t yours anymore
When you forget your voice, you outsource it
to approval
to habit
to someone else’s comfort
But borrowed voices always tremble
They do not carry
They do not root
Returning to your voice isn’t a performance
It’s a remembering
Not of sound
But what matters before the sentence begins
What I say isn’t me
What part of me goes quiet when I want to be accepted
What do I say to be heard, and what would I say if no one had to like it
When was the last time I spoke and felt that sounded like me
“Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent.”
Victor Hugo
You don’t need to sing
Only to notice the tone that feels like your own
You’re invited to listen inward

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