Skip to main content

Campaigning for Intimacy





Gone are the days of private conversations that implied that you were dining with someone special who deserved your full concentration. Instead we are in the constant presence of an aural battlefield that forces even the old guard to lift its voice in defense against public enemy number one: the rising decibel level.

As someone who loves to dine, I'm finding it increasingly difficult to eat out in public places. The appalling proliferation of shrill, piercing voices, whose tonality cuts through space like the sharpest knife, puts an immediate stop to any intimacy you wish to have with yourself or your dining partner.

Vocal coaches speak of a chest voice and a head voice when training singers, with these vocal paradigms supported by the muscles of the diaphragm. Today, voices seem to come from the adenoids, with the added insult that they are applied to sentences often ending in question marks, even when they are statements. And these voices, like well placed weapons of mass destruction, have the ability to cut through distance and loud restaurant music as they compete for attention.

Where did this tonality come from? Why does it usually originate in 20 and 30 year old women? Why haven’t parents or teachers addressed the phenomenon? Just listen to many of the stars of the new TV shows, or even young newscasters. Their voices are painful. What happened to the celebration of a husky, sensual, or just a plain old normal voice? When I asked a pair of twenty-something women if they could hear how high and oddly pitched their voices sound, they said they knew they spoke too loudly, but didn’t understand what I was saying about tone. When I gave them an example between theirs and a pitch more naturally placed, they asked how they could achieve this. I said, go to a vocal coach, or ask yourself if you’re trying to please someone (a man?) and stop!

There was a time when people desired privacy. But of course, that was before the ascent of the cell phone and feeling like you needed to yell to be heard. And then came reality TV where everybody feels that they now deserve more than fifteen minutes of fame, wherever and however they can find it.

The extreme need to be heard without listening is creating a rampant insensitivity to others. The rise of ‘Social Media’ instead of “sociability” is killing the soulfulness and authenticity that should be the essence of conversation between friends, lovers, and even adversaries. Bad enough that many people feel their lives are validated through tweeting or posting on Facebook, instead of being truly present in the moment. Now those of us who wish to enjoy living out in the world are being forced inside by a new universe where conversation has become transaction and self-promotion. And of course this happens not just in restaurants, but everywhere that the new public gathers.

I propose to create a counterculture that campaigns for greater sensitivity. Let’s hear it for the modulated voice that celebrates give and take, understanding and empathy, being present in the moment, putting ego aside, and best of all… intimacy.


For The Lioness Gazette

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

I am a Turtle

Its always the beginning that is different, and even when disguised by excitement of the new and fresh, it challenges. Adjustments to having no root, even in the face of being the Turtle, where everything I need is here, beneath my shell. And this shell, not hard to penetrate, but instead welcoming, inviting new friends in, new loves, new sensations. But I am the newcomer and even if the people around seem welcoming, there is history to be made here, and this comes to haunt late at night when alone in a tiny bedroom in a house that isn't mine and in a land where there are no known references to pull from. And so a sudden nostalgia. Things back home look delicious and much more favorable. That little brownstone pad in Brooklyn with a local cafe around the corner, and good friends just a phone call or a subway ride away. This, even knowing that I'm going to give this new city in another country a real shot. Plans. Not just to find another place to live here, one whe...

The Song to Love’s Door

It was a very hot night and I couldn’t sleep. I hadn’t seen my boyfriend in several weeks, as we had decided to take a break after a bad fight. I was in a strange town, feeling lonely in the efforts to regain my self again, not being able to shake the strange sensation of singleness after being a part of a couple for so long. I had work to do in this town, which was strong and good medicine for me, as it always is. Physical and engaging, teaching dance has always helped me focus and find my way back to center, corporally, psychologically, and spiritually. My days healed me, but the nights left me raw.  Just before dawn I decided to leave my hotel to walk, to feel my body in space, to try to stop my thoughts and the constant beat of my heartache. There was a sliver moon still,  and I took to the street, not knowing where I was going but needing to wander. A church spire was there for the orienting if I needed it, and the town was small enough to keep me contained. I wanted t...

Tango

Marvelous Night for a Moondance for www.argentinastravel.com So there I was—a more-or-less intermediate level tango dancer, with all the bravura that a lifetime of other dance techniques has given me, which means the tendency to show off when I don’t know what I’m doing. I was in a very popular class of what is conveniently called “ nuevo tango ,” signifying that everyone is young and experimental and in this case, pretty good. We were learning some complicated steps and finding new possibilities with each different partner and I was trying to hold my own along with everybody else. After the teachers demonstrated the next sequence, I looked around for my next partner. I felt someone standing next to me, waiting for me to turn and catch his eye. Dirty nails, fraying socks, greasy hair, bad teeth - there he was, my next potential partner, shooting me a charming, inviting, cocky smile. With a confidence completely unfitting to his appearance, this scruffy mix of pira...