The Listening Space Having grown up Methodist with a dash of Catholic, while also visiting many other denominations as a guest soloist, “Holy week” has left a powerful imprint on my personal practices. I remember attending my first Maundy Thursday service as a young teen. Unlike the pomp of a Sunday service, this was a small, intimate communion gathering with low lights and minimal words. We sat in a circle around a makeshift altar and shared bread and wine (grape juice), honoring the last supper. This day in my memory marks my journey into the listening space. Not that of petition, “talking at” God, but that of listening—of “seeing and being seen.” That quiet, sacred honoring of sacrifice still resonates within me and informs my mission—to remind us all of our divinity. As spring begins to blossom around us, may we be reminded that we share the same “big breath” of the universe, and, through the chaos of this noisy, battering world, there is still vast beauty to share and explore. I invite you to enter the listening space with me this week. Find a quiet spot to observe your “little breath” as nourishment. This breath, your prana/life force, not only supports your physical body, but is also your personal antenna of communication that supports your individual expression of divine Love. Thank you for sharing this journey with me. Namaste, (Translation: “The light in me honors the light in you.”) Denise Copyright 2026 Sound Awakenings LLC

To See and Be Seen - The Flower Festival, Palghar, India This message is an audio blog. Enjoy! ((( Listen With love, light, and gratitude, Denise Copyright 2026 Sound Awakenings LLC

The Thief A few weeks ago, I was cleaning out my shade garden. And in this garden, alongside the hostas and astilbe, stands a sweet little Ganesh statue that was gifted to me by my friend, Tim, years and years ago. The statue’s adorned with an intricate red sash with gold trim and amethyst mala beads—items from my trip to Nepal. I hadn’t paid much attention to the adornments over the last few years, but on that day, I noticed how worn they were. Old energy. It was time to let them go. But they were blessed items, and I wasn’t sure how to respectfully dispose of them. I said a brief prayer for guidance and tucked the task away for another day. The universe gave me some unexpected help. Yesterday morning, I glanced into our backyard to see one of our squirrels wrestling with the statue. And Ganesh was not winning. Facedown, Ganesh lay helplessly in the leaves. The squirrel was attempting to steal the mala beads and sash. With its back legs gripping the large sweetgum tree, the little guy hung upside down, pulling, shaking, tugging, and tearing at the precious material. But the face-down Ganesh was heavy enough to fight the good fight and hang on to its adornment. After a time, the squirrel gave up its theft attempt and, as it skittered off, I went out to investigate the damage. The statue was unharmed but the sash was shredded, and most of the mala beads were gone. Ganesh symbolizes the removal of obstacles, elephant energy that can plow through any obstacle along the path. Getting rid of the adornments was a minor obstacle that I didn’t know how to deal with, but the plumped-up squirrel prepping its nest for winter saw something in them that was of value. I laid the rest of the adornment on the ground for the little guy to get later (which he did.) Now, as I look up at the many squirrel nests in the giant sweetgums, I know one of them is adorned with blessed amethyst mala beads and a red and gold splash of color. A sweet blessing for both of us. I love it. With love, light, and gratitude, Denise Copyright 2025 Sound Awakenings LLC

The Antler I love our outdoor shower. We use it for as much of the year that we can manage—from the shivering spring before the first blooms through the luscious summer, and all the way into the first frost and beyond. It’s private and tucked away in our fully fenced-in yard. But last week, after Bill and I returned from a weekend away, there was evidence of a visitor. Something strange was resting on top of the tiny, narrow shelf that hosted my heart rock collection. Initially, I thought it was an overgrown mushroom with its long unseemly stem and fuzzy round cap. On a closer look, however, I realized it was a shed deer antler. Now that was strange. A deer would have to do some wild yoga-like moves to fit through our uniquely shaped shower entrance after jumping our tall fence. There was no evidence of anything moved, damaged or scratched. Not a stone, nor heart rock was out of place. Why would a deer antler appear in our shower? Having had some strange shamanic experiences in the past, I knew that things could just appear and disappear, but I sensed there must be an explanation. I thought it’d be fun to ask AI… “What’s the spiritual significance of a deer antler appearing in an outdoor shower?” AI gave me a better answer than I expected. “An antler appearing in an outdoor shower is a potent symbol of natural renewal arriving in a space of personal cleansing and vulnerability. The juxtaposition of the wilderness symbol with a place of self-care suggests a powerful message of inner strength and transformation.” The antler, from a more trusted source, symbolizes a “crown that is grown, carried, lost, and regrown each year,” that suggests the need for continual growth and expansion as we reclaim our sovereignty. I’ll accept this encouragement from the other side! But I also remembered that we have two little guests living under our deck. Could they be involved in this mystery? Hey Siri…“Do possums gnaw on deer antlers?” “Yes, they do,” Siri responded. Two days later, the antler disappeared. Spirit or possum? I’ll take both! The takeaway: Keep at it, shed what you need to shed, let go of the heavy burdens, tune your spiritual antenna to the divine channel and enjoy the baby possums. With love, light, and gratitude, Denise Copyright 2025 Sound Awakenings LLC

The Wizard “Stop hiding behind the bush and come help us,” the wizard yelled, smiling and flaring the propane fire into the huge balloon. My sister-in-law, Aimee, and I peeked out, embarrassed to have been caught, and sheepishly walked toward the strangers. “Come closer. Grab the basket.” The wizard smiled as he flared the fire again and again. “Pfooof, pfooof, pfooof.” The sound and heat chased us back, as two men hopped out of the basket and pulled it to the ground. Only the wizard remained inside. “Pfooof, pfooof, pfooof.” “I feel like a munchkin in the Wizard of Oz,” I whispered to Aimee. It was a strange, unexpected site on this glorious Vermont evening. The setting sun glowed behind the hazy mountains, giving the mosquitos silent permission to ruthlessly devour my exposed skin. But I didn’t notice. The wizard held my attention. “We need to tip the basket over. Please help us.” The basket rested on a slight incline, and it was going to be a big drop. “Don’t worry. I went to school to learn how to do this safely. On the count of three, tilt it downhill. One, two, three.” Suddenly, the basket was resting on its side. Thankfully, Aimee and I were still upright, and the hot air balloon lay on the ground sideways slowly deflating. The pilot, who just might have been a real wizard, was somehow outside of the basket, upright and beaming. “That was fun,” he said. “Now, let’s deflate the balloon.” We watched our new friends wrap their arms around the bottom edge of the giant balloon and begin to walk toward the top, all the while squeezing out the air as if from a toothpaste tube. We mimicked the action, but it wasn’t as easy as it looked. It was apparently not about strength but technique, and I didn’t have it. My arms tired quickly, and I began to sweat. The mosquitos loved it. The glowing pilot brought over a giant bag. “Let’s get it in the bag.” We shoved half of the partially deflated balloon into the bag. “Now we’ll all sit on it at once and press more air out.” We all sat on the partially filled bag, and my head became covered on both sides by balloon fabric. It might have been easy to suffocate if we weren’t all working to deflate it. Having survived that task, we then shoved the rest of the balloon into the bag, sat on it, and, amazingly, it fit into the bag, fully deflated. “Ok, now for the basket.” Lift the basket? I thought. But, by now, Aimee and I were fully committed. I slapped my legs, now noticing the mosquitos. “One thing is for sure,” said the pilot wizard. “I’m lazy and I don’t like to lift heavy things. So, I have titanium tanks and keep my load as light as possible. We’re going to slide the basket into the truck.” The chaser truck pulled up, and we leaned the upper edge of the basket onto the bed, tilted it, and slid it in. Technique does matter, I thought. The mosquitos were now biting my scalp. “Please land in our yard next time!” Aimee called out as we said our goodbyes, thanking our new friends for a new experience. I’ve always been fascinated by hot air balloons. I enjoy them as a slow visual meditation in the air. They make me stop, stare, and be in the moment. For a moment. And, as I share this story, I reflect on the fun of learning something new while also bonding with and helping out strangers. “Stop hiding behind the bush and come help us,” the wizard had called out. Are you by chance hiding behind a bush? Or are you the one who needs help? Lots of love and gratitude, Denise Copyright 2025 Sound Awakenings LLC

The Habit of Fear "You can't control the waves. You can't decide how high they rise or when they crash. But, you can choose how to ride them." Radhanath Swami As I stepped back onto the stage last week with an incredible group of musicians—grammy-award winners who challenged me to find my own personal best moment by moment, I knew that I had to make a choice. How was I going to ride this incredible wave? Many of you know of my past battles with stage fright. Paralyzing at times. Even before I arrived in Boston, I could feel the habit of fear buzzing in my body, trying to rise and command my mind. But, as I packed my bags, I experimented with a new mantra: I unsubscribe from the habit of fear. It was fascinating to observe. With years of well-patterned habits trying to roll back in, it felt like a monster wave trying to pull me under. I unsubscribe from the habit of fear. Knowing that I was absolutely safe in that moment, I stepped into my sovereignty, and the buzzing undercurrent disappeared. The wave of fear might have rolled in, but I was able to choose how to ride it, or in this case, let it pass by. Is there a difference between the habit of fear and real fear? For me, the answer is a resounding YES, and I must say, it felt wonderful to rise over the habitual monsoon. (At least for now!) I wonder if you have any habits of fear? Fear is a frequency, a wave of energy, and, although I don't plan to focus on fear at my September retreat, I will teach simple methods of how to identify and release waves of negative energy in yourself and your space and how to set the space for positive manifestation. Looking forward to connecting with you soon! Wishing you love, light, and ease, Denise Copyright 2025 Sound Awakenings LLC

It was a gorgeous fall day in Princeton. The sun glimmered through the changing leaves as I walked into the rehearsal space, excited to continue preparation for Nabucco with Riccardo Muti in a few weeks. The bar was set high, and I was living my dream of singing with the best conductors and orchestras in the world as a sophomore in the Westminster Symphonic Choir. Our guru of conducting, Dr. Flummerfelt, stepped up to the podium, and a hush fell over the room. I knew of “Flum’s” reputation well before I was accepted to WCC. He was the best of the best, and I was so intimidated by him that I couldn’t peep out a hello or even walk past him on campus. But as beautiful as the day was, our singing was not. We were sloppy, out of tune, and missing cut-offs. Flum’s reddening face indicated frustration. He dropped his hands, stood at his full height (6 feet plus) and stared at us silently. A full minute passed. “We’ll begin tomorrow’s rehearsal with a pop quiz. I’ll choose one singer from each voice part to sing in front of me as a quartet. I’ll hear as many quartets as needed until I’m sure that you all know your part. I want perfect Italian diction, correct phrasing, and dynamics. See you tomorrow.” My heart dropped to my feet. I may even have wet my pants. All I remember is that the gorgeous fall day collapsed in on me, and I couldn’t breathe. Sing in front of Flum? The entire choir? In that moment, I knew that, if I were called to sing, I would fail. My Italian was the worst, not just because of my jersey accent that continued to slip in, but, more importantly, I couldn’t flip or roll my “r’s” which is vital in both translation and choral sound. I would be shamed in front of everyone, I would lose the respect of the man I couldn’t even say hi to, and maybe even have to transfer colleges. I was doomed. A friend saw my panic and rolled her r’s at me. “I’m going to help you.” We cut the rest of classes and hid under a tree. “Say d, d, d, d, d.” I could do that. “Faster.” No problem. “Now say “r” over and over again.” Failed that one. She gave me five other suggestions, and my fat tongue got heavier and heavier. We gave up, and I retreated to a practice room. I practiced through the night until… “rrrrrrrrrrr” I surprised myself. I did it again. “rrrrrrrrrrr.” Praise the Lord! I sang through the chorus and felt something close to Italian diction. I might just survive the quiz. The next day, with the sun still shining, the leaves still changing, and my heart pounding in my head and feet, I walked into the rehearsal space, as ready as I could be. Each singer in each section chose a number. Mine was 45. Flum called up the first group. 4, 32, 52, 81 Then the next group. 19, 33, 42, 73 Then the next. 1, 22, 49, 92 “Ok, thank you everyone,” He announced. “Let’s move on to Va Pensiero.” Really? My heart rate began to settle. I survived the quiz, the anticipation, the preparation AND my rattling mental tensions. What’s more, I learned a new skill. Rolling my r’s helped me connect to my breath in a beneficial way, release tongue tension, sing in foreign languages more accurately, and, at times, scare away stray cats. But more importantly, I learned that fear of embarrassment, being seen, or failing, when handled with care, can foster new skills, create growth, and encourage positive change. Can you roll your r’s? If so, see how it helps your breath! If not, tempted to learn a new skill? Wishing you love, light, and ease, Denise Copyright 2025 Sound Awakenings LLC

The first time I attended a sound healing session, I had no idea what to expect, and, as a professional singer who had spent much of my life on the stage, I was intrigued. What was sound healing and how was it different from the music I was performing? I happened upon this event during a time of great chaos in my life—I was reeling from a sudden divorce, had recently lost my dad to mental illness and addiction, and was losing my mom to stress. My world as I knew it was crashing around me, and it was becoming impossible to maintain the demands of my singing career. I had just completed three national opera tours, several apprentice programs, and was on schedule to audition for my dream program at the Lyric Opera of Chicago. It was too much. Stress suffocated me, stole my breath, and shut down my voice. I bombed my dream audition. Healing was a distant tease. When I arrived at the sound healing event, I immediately felt comforted by the 30 or so metal bowls that were thoughtfully arranged from smallest to largest. It was an orchestra like no other! I plunked down next to the largest bowl, tempted to sit in it. An internal voice demanded, “Show me this thing you call ‘healing!’” Certainly no “healing” was being demonstrated for me or my family. In that moment, life sucked. If my prayers couldn’t heal my dad, my marriage, my mom, my career, how could a simple sound session? My cement heart and I lay on the mat, ready for the journey. An hour passed as if it were a minute, and, as the facilitator brought us back, I truly felt healed—of what specifically, I didn’t know. I doubted that the chaos and disappointment surrounding my life had shifted in that magical hour. But something within me had. I felt lighter, softer, almost giggly. Even though my life as I knew it was shattering, a sensation of joy flowed through me. In that moment, I knew that I was going to be okay. As I left the event, I vowed that I would learn that sound tradition and share it with others. Now, across the 13+ years following that event, my lifetime of musical training has merged perfectly with the self-healing and empowerment tools that saved my life. I prayed for healing and in an unimaginable way, I found it. Healing is many things. Although it doesn’t always happen on my preferred timeline or in the way that I envision it, healing energy is present for us to access here and now…even as we are moving into increasingly challenging times and rising chaos. The stress may feel suffocating. You may feel like your voice is being strangled. You may feel shattered. But you do not need to face it with a cement heart. I tried that. It’s not sustainable and it’s certainly not fun. Nor do you need to face it alone. Here are some things you can do: • Take care of yourself every day. For all the trembling news you hear, take that much more time to steady your breath and sense your center, your divine spark. That spark is powerful. • Take time to notice the miracles unfolding around you. Open yourself to joy and awe. • Your words matter and what you focus on matters. For as many horrors as you are witnessing, spend twice as much time envisioning the love, respect, kindness, and unity that you wish to see. 15 years ago, healing was a distant tease, but for me it snuck in a back door through divine sound. That one session jump-started my healing journey. And since then, it’s been my mission to share the healing space with others. From relief of sciatica, headaches, and sinus infections to emotional healing, improved sleep, and stress reduction, the sky is the limit when it comes to the benefits of sound healing. I invite you to explore my offerings as they unfold this year. From in-person to online, let’s connect and unite as we support each other on this divine mission of raising consciousness. Love, Light and Connection, Denise Copyright 2025 Sound Awakenings LLC

I remember the very moment stage fright slipped into my being. In just a matter of seconds, I transformed from fearless to fearful; all because of one tiny shift just before my first church solo in 9th grade. I thought I was ready to make my debut as a soloist. I had completed my vocal warm ups, dressed in my finest Sunday clothes, and spent over an hour perfecting my fine, straight hair into the perfect 1980s Jersey bangs and curly puff. At the back of the small sanctuary, my voice teacher and I successfully practiced my favorite hymn, In the Garden, which I had been preparing for months. I indeed felt ready. But minutes before the service began, I saw my voice teacher fluttering around, moving wires, and setting up sound equipment. Unexpectedly, he set up a microphone in front of my face, and I stared at it as if it were a snake about to attack. This change was not planned. I didn’t practice with this foreign object, and, in all honesty, I was very happy with my soft, quiet voice. If people couldn’t hear me, they wouldn’t know if I made a mistake. With church now beginning, and my solo serving as the prelude, I didn’t have time to object. My teacher sat at the piano, smiled, and began to play the introduction. The intimidating snake of a microphone stared at me as I opened my mouth to sing the opening phrase. Fear blanketed me. My legs shook and my butt cheeks trembled. This unexpected nervous energy stole my breath, and I barely squeaked out the first few words. “I come to the garden al…” My throat slammed shut in the middle of “alone,” and a primordial grunt echoed throughout the church. I was mortified. My teacher, however, continued on as if this vocal explosion had been intended to be part of the song. In that timeless moment, I realized that the earth did not shatter and I still appeared to be alive. Rather than crawl and hide under the grand piano, I kept going, found my voice, and finished the hymn beautifully. Afterwards, church members kindly avoided mentioning the cavewoman grunt but instead encouraged me to keep at it. Stage fright, however, was now an unwelcome hitchhiker that stayed with me for my most of my career. But the curse eventually turned into a blessing, forcing me, in a sense, into the world of sound healing as I searched for ways to manage it. My path led me to ancient techniques and methods that shed new light on stage fright, fear, and stress. Slowly, I began to transform my fear into clarity and strength. I’ve learned to recognize fear for what it is. A bully. My studies have proven to me that sound indeed calms the proverbial raging beast. The techniques I work with sooth my inner bully, and, as a result, I’m living a less stressed and fearful life. What better time than now to share a few of these self-regulation practices with you? If you cannot join the October 15th live zoom event, I invite you to consider the three-month deep dive that begins February 2025. Sound Meditation Teacher Training. This program is open to all who wish to deepen their self-regulation practices, become comfortable with their voice, and expand their breath. My lifetime of walking hand-in-hand with, or sometimes being pulled and dragged by, fear has led me to develop specific techniques that are accessible to everyone. I can’t wait to share them with you!!! With love and healing, Denise Copyright 2024 Sound Awakenings LLC