Your Voice Belongs in the World
What if it’s not just you?
When Marissa was in sixth grade, a music teacher told her,
“Not everyone is meant to sing.”
She was trying out for the school musical. Nervous but hopeful. Just wanting to be part of something. But that one comment shut her down.
She never tried out again.
Maybe she laughed it off. Maybe she said she wasn’t interested anyway. But inside, she was crushed.
She built a wall to protect herself. And that wall didn’t just keep out the pain—it shut her off from the joy she used to feel when she sang. From the freedom of expressing herself. From the part of her that music had once helped her come home to.
She still sings sometimes, quietly to herself. But there’s tension in her throat. Something holds back. Like a part of her doesn’t believe she has the right.
Sound familiar?
You don’t need a dramatic moment to lose trust in your voice.
Disconnection can sneak in slowly—a comment here, an awkward performance there. The pressure to sound good or to “measure up.”
And even years later, the effects can show up in the body:
- Straining to sound a certain way
- Feeling tension in your throat or jaw
- Shallow breathing or breath that won’t move
- Holding back emotionally or feeling clamped down
- Singing that feels forced, mechanical, or uncomfortable
- A quiet sense of shame or fear that keeps you from even trying
If you recognize any of these, you’re not alone—and it’s not your fault.
And it’s not too late to change these patterns.
What’s really going on?
These aren’t just technical issues—they’re signs of deeper disconnection.
Our culture tells us that singing is for the chosen few. That it’s about performance, perfection, or competition. That we should only sing if we’re “good at it.”
Add the pressure to win approval or avoid looking foolish, and it’s no wonder so many people stop singing—or keep going, but never really feel free.
But this misses the point.
Singing is one of the most natural, human things we can do.
When it’s working well, it’s not about performance—it’s about presence.
It brings us into our bodies, connects us to emotion, and helps us express something real.
What’s at stake
When we lose touch with our voice, we lose touch with something essential.
We lose a direct line to self-expression, emotional honesty, and creative flow.
And if that disconnection deepens, it can lead to:
- A sense of playing it safe or small in other parts of life
- A feeling of being cut off from your intuition or spirit
- A shrinking of your sense of play, presence, or power
- Missed opportunities for joy, connection, and growth
This isn’t just about music—it’s about your relationship with yourself.
And on a wider scale, when voices are shut down, something precious is lost.
Because singing isn’t just a personal act—it’s a vital part of our cultural fabric.
A way we’ve always gathered, mourned, celebrated, and prayed.
When fewer people feel safe to sing, we’re also disconnected from each other.
And our culture grows poorer.
What’s needed
The good news? It can be different.
You don’t have to be a certain kind of person.
You don’t need perfect pitch or a polished voice.
And you definitely don’t need to “fix” yourself.
What you do need is a different approach—one that:
- Creates a grounded, supportive space to explore
- Builds awareness of breath, body, and sensation
- Encourages curiosity instead of judgment
- Meets you where you are and grows from there
- Honors whatever brings you here—personal expression, connecting with your audience, or spiritual attunement
This kind of space invites not just better singing—but deeper connection with yourself.
What becomes possible
At first, your goals might be simple:
- Feeling less self-conscious about your voice
- Enjoying the act of singing again
- Singing in tune without strain or second-guessing
- Breathing more freely and letting sound move
- Releasing tension and sounding more natural
- Gaining confidence to share your voice with others
But as your connection deepens, something more begins to unfold:
- Music becomes a source of emotional healing and personal insight
- Your voice becomes an ally in grounding and self-expression
- Singing turns into a spiritual practice or an emotional release
- You begin to trust your instincts and express what’s true
- You find yourself more present, more alive, and more open
And collectively?
We reclaim something we’ve been missing.
When more people find their voice—not just the polished, performative one, but their real, raw, human voice—it brings something vital back into our culture:
Authenticity. Emotional aliveness. The power of being real.
It reminds us that music is not a product.
It’s a birthright.
Who I am
I’m Sean Shea. I’ve spent over 40 years helping people rediscover their connection to music and to themselves.
In my own musical exploration, I’ve dived deep into many traditions—American folk, Indian classical, gospel—wherever music lives in the heart and stirs the spirit. I’ve studied with master musicians from India and Africa, led devotional singing groups, and taught music in many forms, from voice and guitar to songwriting.
But the heart of my work isn’t about style or tradition.
It’s about presence. Connection. Deep listening.
I meet each student where they are.
We move at a pace that helps them notice how their voice feels and explore what it’s like to sing without effort.
We unlearn habits. We try new things. We let go of pressure and rediscover joy.
My approach adapts to the person—not the other way around.
I don’t believe in one-size-fits-all teaching.
I believe in listening closely.
In helping people become more aware of how they use their voice and how it affects their body and emotions.
In seeing and encouraging their potential.
And in empowering them to become their own best teacher.
An Invitation
If something in this resonates, let’s talk.
Whether you’re just beginning or coming back to singing after a long silence—you’re welcome here.
Or just take this with you:
You don’t need permission to sing. You never did.
Your voice belongs to you.
And it belongs in the world.The songs that arise from that place?
They’re not just beautiful—they’re alive.