Sounding Newsletter, 11/2020

by Kathryn Hart Teixeira, Voice of Presence

Photograph of Greenhouse

Welcome to the first Newsletter for Voice of Presence, my new Sounding practice.

What is Sounding the Depths?

When I receive your request for a Sounding appointment I go to the timeless place within the core of the Heart. I do not need to be with you to begin reading the information in terms of a vibrational sonic picture. This picture assists you in stepping into your awareness of your sacred core – the depths of you. Within each human are tones, vibrations and resonances. These feel more or less in harmony, depending upon our focus in the moment or how we have been responding to our feelings, thoughts and physiology.  When I sound for you, I offer a field for your whole being to resonate in harmony with your sacred expanses. While there, you make the shifts and changes that allow you to feel aligned and in-tune, so to speak. Sound is a wonderful way to do this since it bypasses the mental process or need for words and specific meanings. 

As you reference your Sounding experience in daily life, insights continue to deepen and you may find that you are able to step into your depths in a way that allows you to feel continuously harmonized.

It is natural to take time out of our schedule to refresh and renew ourselves. It is my intention to create a practice that is aligned with the heart’s natural desire to assist in the renewal process.

Utilizing sound to renew ourselves is so nourishing.  Sound – harmony, melody, rhythm, harmonics, intervals – especially when matched with intention, can reach places inside that have felt frozen or unexpressed. A little about my background:  in training my voice in music school in the 90’s, the most magical things happened during practice sessions.  I was learning to focus and create coherent and beautiful sound and the abilities that were hiding within began to come forth and blossom. Soon I began playing with intention and when my singing reflected this heartfelt connection, I became a conduit for grace and consolation. After my children were born and their gorgeous vibrations were in my life, I was inspired to begin composing and creating music from a moment-to-moment awareness of my experience as a creator – making music directly from the field!

In fact, that is what is happening during a Sounding. Our fields – or the “what” of us – are present within the greater field of All That Is. Technically, I open my heart and mind to this benevolent field and translate the impressions I receive into notes, tones and sequences that resonate with the timeless present. If this feels magical it is simply because we are connecting the dots between our being and the present moment – which are One and the same. 

This magical sense of being- where shifts happen naturally and spontaneously – is the gift and grace of Sounding. Whether you initiate yourself once or make it a regular part of your sacred hygiene, it is my honor to assist on your journey. Thank you for your courage and willingness to nourish your presence. It is my experience that you have taken a step in becoming living harmony. Blessings in the One, Katie 


When we dream, are we really free from the labels and identities we wear in the waking life? What are the parameters around the subject matter for our nighttime voyages? Are they the terrain of the purported “Fourth Dimension?” Are dreams the “Royal Road to the Unconscious” as Jung permitted, or a necessary form of mental housekeeping that allows us to return to waking life refreshed, renewed? Are we enhanced by remembering and dissecting them?

My theory is “yes” and utilizing a recent dream, I will argue why.

My dreamscape last night included an episode where I birthed a baby. This has happened in the past, yet in this dreamscape the baby had no umbilical cord and I remarked on that fact within the dream, itself. Now, when I told my husband about my dream this morning, I stated it like I just did, without embellishment. What if I take the time to fill in the blanks. Will I shed light on the “here and now”, as I do so?

Taking time to view the details, I admit to myself how happy I am when I have “birthing” dreams. It is such a joy to relive a blessed moment of bringing a life into the world, without actually having to birth a physical life with its accompanying pains – *wink!

I am so happy in the dream that I drag out the anticipation – enjoying every moment and micro-moment pre-birth. I enjoy recalling the other births I have participated in during dream time – the dream referencing other dreams in a paralell reality of memory. The joy is blissful. I feel radiant to be serving in this capacity, and there is no downside since I know nothing can go “wrong” here.

There are folks to assist me in this dream, as there have been in my dreaming memory of other birthing dreams. Plenty who want to take part. Yet this time, things feel different. I don’t want to give birth with any assistance: in fact, I do not want anyone around, so I leave to go to the bathroom. There, unencumbered by any one else’s expectations, I go into an easy labor on the toilet. (After excreting there – metaphor for getting rid of what is no longer needed, I turn to the subject at hand: birthing!) I push the head out – or the head comes out with very little effort. I take time to enjoy the process. I pause to look at my baby. Very calm little one, no stress or strain, no fear or anxiety, perfect knowing and allowing. I wonder how the shoulder is going to make it through the vaginal canal and if I will be able to maneuver it properly and safely. No problem, we seem to be making a good team, for (and now I know it is a she) – for she comes tumbling out! I am so happy to meet this baby and to hold her to my chest. She needs so little orientation – she is not needing to express crying or fear, yet is present and enjoying our meeting – I almost said reunion – for it feels much more like a reunion. We are just so happy to be together. In the back of my mind I am reminding myself that the Placenta will need to be birthed – and then the hitch – though it seemed neutral – we remarked together that there was no umbilical chord!!! Not only that, but my baby was immediately self-sufficient with no apparent physical needs at all. Though my maternal sense was a little disoriented, there was a mechanism that felt very clear in the dream that this was a strong message: this baby is your Self – totally independent, free, and sufficient. Even as an infant, my Self expressed its absolute independence from me. A little disappointed and feeling like ‘I couldn’t possibly do my duty as a mother without protecting this vulnerable child’, I was next ushered to a scene that in my waking life gives me pause: there was a line up of babies showing my little one without an umbilical cord, as an anomaly.

As I read over my writing, I am struck by how it must feel to be God, and in fact, to know that as God, you are giving birth to yourself over and over again – trusting your vulnerable creation to make its way through the maze of physical life as it reads the signs and wakes up to its status as creator. The mixed feelings, the ambivalence of letting go, of trusting, of knowing not every experience will be pleasant. What kind of heart would allow that? It must take a very great heart, I am thinking.

Isn’t that what we ask of ourselves? To exercise our great heart? To birth our life, our self, in this life and to let it be free from our worry and doting? Aren’t we asked, after all, to trust?

There is no ‘plan to trust in’ that compares to trusting in the knowledge of what you are. You are divine. You are sacred. You are the I Am.

When things feel shaky, I now know it goes back to belief. What am I believing, what am I paying attention to, and why? If this world were the last word on ultimately reality, then I would have to be up in arms about the state of the world’s more disturbed scenes. It would be cause for great alarm and stress. As it is, it does sometimes trigger me, and that is not a sign to necessarily ignore it, but to dig deeper: my dream is showing me that we are ALL self-born. We are born without umbilical chords because our divine ancestry is not physical in origin. Who we really are is independent of the cycle of incarnations we participate in. It is self-born and independent and there is an opportunity to be aware of this, now. We need not judge those who choose difficult experiences because we all learn and grow through our experiences (sometimes our difficulties help us to remove burdensome masks). They can make us aware of depths of wisdom and compassion formerly reserved for saints and angels – in fact they can put us in touch with our immortal reality as ‘every experience everywhere in the form of intention.’ That intention, simply put, is I AM, and it is one worth lovingly running towards . . .

Silhouette of Boy Running in Body of Water during Sunset


I am in the business of authenticity. What does that mean to me? Everything I create comes from this premise. It comes first. Why?

That is where the fun is! If I started to create my life from others’ or my own expectations, my creative well would run dry because the source of nourishment would be mind-made. It is hard to sustain mental creations since the mind only creates what it already knows.

What does that mean? Inspiration. Breathing and flowing with my life’s energy while allowing the mind to calm down and take a very comfortable seat on the over-stuffed sofa at the back of the room (haha) allows my composite self to come forward. What is that?

My composite self is who I am without any labels or designations. To be sure, it flows through my personality, yet it is grounded in the myriad aspects of ME that may or may not be obvious. For example, I appear as a westerner and have been schooled in the institutions of western music. I understand music theory and counterpoint norms as well as song-leading techniques. I’ve even been awarded Master of Music in the western tradition – which means I have jumped through many hoops to show that I have the ability to nourish and prolong the tradition of western music. And . . .

. . . western music is constantly changing! Without going into too much music history, the 20th and 21st century have found many innovative composers working within the paradigm of western music, yet stretching its bounds. We studied the work of John Cage, for example, where a piano piece, four minutes long, is without any musical notation. It is simply a concert pianist, sitting on stage with the music, holding silent space for four minutes, and it is iconoclastic. People clap and pay for . . . their expectations to be frustrated! (for a dramatic YouTube version in black and white go to – valid as of 9/23/2020).

To be fair, not everyone wants their expectations to remain unmet. If so, they will resonate with and find that which is perfect for them in their authenticity. It is a win-win situation, since your vibration really speaks for you, doesn’t it? Yet that is another blog post altogether! Stay tuned . . . and in the meantime, here is to the artist of authenticity!

Woman Sitting on Motor Scooter

Volume I: Is God a Narcissist?

Recently I have been asked how is it I can say that I AM the love of my Life, with no qualifications, saying Doesn’t that make you Narcissistic?

It’s a fair question. Yet I feel that Narcissism has gotten a bad rap lately. People are so afraid of seeming narcissistic that they may go to the opposite extreme of parading their self-doubt. Yet isn’t that also a form of delusion?

From Wikipedia:

“Narcissus is the origin of the term narcissism, a fixation with oneself and one’s physical appearance or public perception.”

Of course everything is a spectrum and therefore finding a middle path is always appropriate – in moderation – as they say: you want to maintain your person as an act of physical hygiene, play nice with others so you get along in the social arena, and at the same time, have self-confidence. Where are you on these spectrum’s continuum? Do you worship youth and beauty so that you must go everywhere coiffed? Do you play the antagonist in your social group to a “T”? Do you pretend to be weaker or more unenlightened in order to fit in to the mindset around you? Do you berate or inflate yourself at the expense of your clarity?

What does God think of all of this? What would God say?

Godspeak * is my name for the vibration within you that feels like ‘home’. In the Goldilocks analogy, it would be baby bear’s chair: just right. You are neither pushing against or retreating from, That which you Are.

And what are you? In the last twenty years nutritionists would remind us that our bodies are 70 percent water (more or less). Now science, especially quantum science which deals with, well, quanta, demonstrates that we are made up of mostly space.

What in the heck?

So if God speaks and is a narcissist, what would He say? “You are my Creation, of which I Am well-pleased”. Or maybe “Well-done, my good and faithful servant”.

That’s right, He would express love and praise for His creation as well as congratulate Himself on a beautiful job, “well-done”.

The point is, there is no loser here – it is a Win-Win situation – and nobody’s porridge needs to be taken.

You can love and appreciate others as well as love and appreciate that you are loving and appreciating others! It is a glorious loop. Test it and see!

But, hey, isn’t it narcissistic to want to influence other people’s perception by writing this article? Do you see that every act you take is for your own gratification no matter what it looks like from the personality?

The answer is that being Selfish – or Self-ish – in a conscious, heartfelt way always benefits everyone involved. It can be no other way, for where one is taking care of one’s Godspeak, one’s vibration, one automatically influences perception. As you observe you create and your creations spark the daisy-chain for every other player in this stage called life.

And how do you do that? Care for your vibration? Well, that will be another volume on another day . . . so stay tuned! Your vibration will thank you . . .

Toddler Girl Smiling and Touching Toy

the Grace of Non-judgment

There is nothing

Like the Grace of non-judgment.

it instantly restores the mind

and the Heart can

flow along with the ride.

Then life, which is not a game afterall,

can feel like celebration, or,

can resonate with reverence

born of simplicity.

the unnecessary layers

which before seemed acutely gathered

can drift away, open to new breezes

for now,

this moment,

is anchored in the Heart.


And what are we

but this simple moment?

void of a fear that comes

of seeing only with the senses.


A vast probability is

that we hold non-judgement high

as a true statute

of Liberty.

The Anatomy lesson

This is a review of a book by the same title by Philip Roth.  It is a big-hearted book exploring a myriad of themes written in an almost stream of consciousness style.

Roth writes in the third person form of Nathan Zuckerman, a best-selling author who is practically incapacitated from chronic pain.  He has been enduring debilitating pain for 18 months when the book begins – with him literally lying on a children’s plastic playmat on the floor (the only position that somewhat relieves the ache).   All apparent avenues of healing having been explored:  the dozens of doctors, diagnoses and contraptions, the lovers and girlfriend-nurses, the why’s and where-to-for’s and doubts endured and discarded, along with a Doctor of Dolorology who offers him  the best looking “way out of pain”, yet it requires a surrender to a care and state Nathan refuses to submit to.  In ballsy independence he declares his pain not real to him and resolves to apply for medical school.  After cussing out his biggest literary critic (who is also sick at home) he arms himself with a volley of pain-killers and makes off by plane from Newark to Chicago, and to a meeting with his college roommate turned Doctor, Bobby.  He wills to convince his friend to go along with his determined fate.

He ends up riding around in his alma mater’s town inside of a limousine (his driver is female).  Along with checking out his old stomping grounds, he unleashes the force of his pent-up rage  by calling himself Milton Appel (his literary critic nemesis) and improvising a narrative of his life as a pornographer of the taboo- with heavy emphasis on his service to the common man and woman and a dollop of self-righteousness for having the courage to piss off and everyone who disapproves of him.  Is this persona his cure? he seems to inquire.

Add to this mix the reflections on his controversial fourth novel – a best-selling fiction that practically desecrates the values his parents and his parents parents appear to hold (the former only recently deceased, the latter, having had no where near the amount of opportunities of Nathan) -, the daily grind of the writer’s life – which appears more and more distasteful, though familiar,  and his three marriages lost to the lifestyle, all within a backdrop of Jewish heritage , with emphasis on, one would say, the universal themes of lineage, genes, expectations, sense of right and wrong, both pride and disgust of nationalistic movements near and far and the old way versus new ways of being in the world and we see:

He’s in pain.  He’s full of drugs.  Nathan has exhausted his resource.  His mother is dead, his brother is not speaking with him after the blasphemous best-seller, and his father’s last words to him were a curse.  He senses a new freedom on the horizon if he can  balance his desire to thrust forth in his new and euphoric rootlessness with his growing longing, yearning and even demand for a relationship with himself and connection with others outside of previously assigned roles.

Commentary:  There are so many moments of keen insite, phantastic compassion, dazzling humor and depth of connection in these pages of fiction that I find a lovely companion in all that it mirrors for me.  Having had bouts of chronic pain and knowing that the message they contain cannot be felt anywhere but within – and then living their truth as a route to freedom, this is the adventure story of being fully human.  Blasphemy is no longer blasphemous, the cross of christ can be alluded to as the flip side of the coin of living fully: to one’s own life an offering of endurance, understanding and essentially immortal orientation.  Then, and only then, to return to the work of the day.  For thus are we armed with the weightless realization of time within no-time.  As to Nathan, Roth has us leave him in while in a state of awe and wondrous renewal.  As a patient, now, still with a sick body yet visiting other sick bodies while making the rounds with doctors in a Chicago hospital.


On Writing

When I want to write, I slip into an awareness of my heartspace.  There my intention lives wordlessly:  I AM.  This intention fuels me in ways that are subtle and surprising.  I find myself making my way “in the world” with lightness of step.  It is my real life.

As soon as I light the fire inside – with the fuel of awareness, I feel a sense of flow.  I am okay with the unknown, because it is all me, and it is essentially benevolent.  I find that concepts of write and wrong (or right and “rong”), have no thing to hold onto; cannot take root.  So, rootless, they flow away.

What remains?  an upwelling.  It feels nurturing and expanding.  It asks for nothing.  It allows for everything, without judgement.

I’m going to take a moment to ask my heart what it might like to “say” or have “amplified”:

“This is meditation.  Looking within, feeling, taking the time to sort out what is real and what is not, letting the mind go, this is stillness.”

And this is the place from which I want to live my life.  From a place of inner poise and stillness.  This is why I write this morning, and why I publish.  To nourish this strain which sings from stillness and to amplify it.  It is my choice, it is my life, today and always.

Singer and Cat

So, Sam became my side-kick.  An unusual one since he wasn’t fond of my chosen profession of singing.  He had a loud, formidable voice that he used liberally.  He did not appreciate the talents of others, though, and would often complain with great vocal persistence when I would rehearse at home.  Funny, as I write this, I notice he came to a quiet acceptance of my singing in his last years – often choosing to sleep in the room where I would practice.

There were the many layers of mental and emotional impressions to work through as I brought personality up to speed with my life-stage and its attendant requirements and opportunities.  I enlisted the help of a therapist, and of course, Sam.

Fearless and dauntless, Sam attended to every size bruise.  Laying on the couch of my apartment, exploring the wounds of my psyche, I had the best of navigators with me.  He would lay on my heart and belly, and then the purring would begin.  Soft and rumbling, he would “lean in” and press his body and heart center close to my body and heart center.

Did this create a resonance?  A field?  Perhaps.  I was a scientist of health and wellness, though, and my requisite  findings would need to be practical.  How did it feel?  It felt loving and present, warm and fear-less.  Sam did not ask questions.  He did not ask if the pain was worthy of being felt.  He assumed, assumedly, that it was his job, simply, to love.   He loved me in those moments without fear or reservation or question or any intellectual content at all.

Sam, or BFF

Yesterday my beloved Pet Sam crossed the threshold that appears to separate the visible and invisible.

appearances can be very convincing, can’t they?  Yet I feel my beloved pet’s love for me in my heart – moment’s after he passed, I experienced a knowing, a feeling that is more intuitive than rational, that seemed to say “I’m here!  I made it to the realm of the One Heart, do you feel me now?”

Why do I consider my cat, feeble and immobile in his last  days, my best friend forever?   He never spoke a “word” to me in his whole life, and yet we were in constant communication.  He arrived in my life at the dawn of a new chapter:  I left my home-state of Michigan to live in Cincinnati, where I was a scholarship student in Voice and Opera.  I brought with me from Michigan a lot of baggage.  Some would say lifetimes of baggage.  And I brought a bed and a lamp and a futon.  Eventually I would get a television/vcr combo.

Sam, and later his “sister”, Gracie, made his home on that bed in my single bedroom apartment.  He warmed the sheets with his love and drooled his affection there, as well.  My first lover.   He and his sister became my “yes men”.  I would merely have to think “ok, nap-time, guys”, and they would be there to be with me.

LIke I said, I brought a lot of baggage with me to Cincinnati.  I was wearing a 24 year-old body, yet my emotional life was quite stunted.  I chose, per pre-birth agreements, to endure the maze of confusion that comes when one is cut off from one’s own inner source-of well-being and happiness.  i saw through a film of lack, loss, agitation, depression, whatever you want to call it.  I wanted to experience the beauty in life that I sensed when I opened myself up to my music and lived in its expression.  I wanted my music to become my life.

Here enters Sam.  He is an adopted cat with black fur and a strong personality.  The nursing staff know him by name and intimate that I’m in for a ride.  I walk past the cages and a cat sticks out his paw and tries to catch some of my shirt’s fabric:  “Here I am!  I’m here, don’t you want me?”

Yes, I do, as a matter of fact.  He comes home and his food dish and toilet in place, he makes his home on my bed and in my heart.  Thus began our work together:  Singer and Cat.

More To Come . . .

no shame

Did you know the words “significance” and “diarrhea” have the same amount of syllables?


They have other things in common, too, like making messes in what can otherwise be described as “the neutral pants of life”.


There is a silly (to me) song about the effect of loose bowels while playing the game of baseball called, without shame, “Diarrhea”.

Replacing some words here and there, the poem of the song can read:


When you’re sitting in your room and nasty thoughts begin to bloom, Significance!  Significance!

When your key chain doesn’t show and your plans are “no go”, Significance!  Significance!

When your mate is ten minutes late or your kids run out of the gate, Significance!  Significance!

When you write a blog post and there’s no one there to toast (you), Significance!  Significance!


(and here I thought I wanted to talk about snow and the baby Jesus)