I sing. It’s not a vanity thing. I sing for self-preservation. 
No doubt the craving began when I was small, when the brutality of my circumstances propelled my psyche from my little body. But dissociation from the physical punishment only spared me the immediate pain, for each blow and defilement left a scar in my memory. And the necessity of being “out of my body” so often, so young, created a permanent disconnect ~ an ever ready escape route, if you will, holding my mind to my physical self with the flimsiest of tethers. But when I sing, I am fully present and physically engaged on multiple levels from profound to delightful. My soul is fully absorbed, of course, so singing is always a spiritual experience. Mirren, the she-ro in my new novel, Lorcan’s Bane describes it this way: ”The moment I parted my lips, my feet began to tingle. Then a jolt akin to lightening drilled me through from foot to head. And before I knew it, all the world had vanished except for my song. Gone were the warmth of the hearth and the lingering aromas of dinner. Gone were the sounds from the kitchen and the stones beneath my feet. Even my mother’s harping grew faint, for the will of the music conquered my senses and hollowed me out to channel nature’s voice. Words rose from my heart, and I sang them to life with my breath. Forests grew from my lyrics. Animals sprang from my rhymes. Each verse and intonation invoked an essential element until, by the end of my song, I had planted a living picture of the valley in the souls of those who listened.” 
So, my refuge is my studio, my space downstairs that accommodates my small P.A., a couple of keyboards I seldom use, my mic, Irish whistles and all my music. For an hour or two, I surrender to the music. I call the frequencies through my body, energizing and cleansing my cells, washing away any worries, and singing my truths with power. Singing is my salvation, a grounding/bonding ritual that keeps me from drifting too far from my center. It is a balm to a bruised heart. . . a celebration of confidence. . . grief purged through grace. . . my in-body escape. Finally, it is my conscious intent with every in and out breath, to sing love into the earth and into the hearts of all living things. 
Kitty R. Connell
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