Join us for an enlightening conversation with Suzanne Sterling and Dave Stringer, both internationally acclaimed musicians and sound healers. In this interview, they share their deep insights into the transformative power of chanting and sound healing, exploring how these ancient practices can awaken a deeper connection to the self and the universe. From their personal experiences in the healing arts to the powerful vibrations of sacred mantras, Suzanne and Dave offer a unique perspective on how music and sound can elevate our consciousness and support spiritual growth.

Question: Your workshop at the Sivananda ashram blends chanting, drumming, and neurosciences. How do you see these practices helping people unlock their inner bliss and transform their lives?

Dave Stringer: Chanting can transform lives because it’s a spiritual practice that doesn’t rely on dogma or belief—it values experience. Experience is undeniable, and you don’t need prior knowledge of yoga or mantras to find it fulfilling. These practices create a heightened state that is both ecstatic and deeply calming. What’s remarkable is that this experience isn’t limited to the individual; it happens collectively, fostering a sense of shared compassion.

In modern life, there are few opportunities to experience mass ecstasy. When we dance or chant together, we tap into an ancient practice that aligns our brain waves and nervous systems. These traditions existed long before we had the language of neuroscience, but they clearly have profound effects.

For me, I approached these practices not as a seeker or believer but with initial resistance. Yet, the impact was undeniable, which led me to explore why and how these transformations occur. When people experience connection or ecstasy for the first time, it shifts their perspective. There’s a saying in India: “Once you see it, you can’t unsee it.”

These practices aren’t about achieving a permanent state of bliss—it’s not sustainable to live that way. Instead, they provide moments of awareness and connection to something infinite or collective. These glimpses can be revisited, continually transforming how we evaluate our experiences and view the world.

Suzanne Sterling: First, I want to address where we are today. We've just been through a pandemic that kept us isolated and disconnected from one another. One of the most powerful things about chanting, drumming, singing, and entering states of collective bliss is that these practices can help bring us out of isolation and loneliness. They remind us of who we truly are as human beings—creatures hardwired for self-expression at our very core.

We aren’t meant to confine that self-expression to private spaces like our showers or cars. We’re meant to connect with one another and the great web of life. That’s been humanity’s practice since the beginning of time. It’s only recently that art has been reduced to performance, and we’ve been relegated to the role of passive consumers rather than active participants. The key difference between performance and ritual is participation.

When we chant, drum, or sing together, we reconnect to our bodies and their natural response to rhythm and vibration. This collective vibration can synchronize our breath and heart rates, creating profound physical and emotional shifts. Done right, it can help release trauma, stress, and anxiety—things that weigh heavily on so many people today.

We’re living in an intense time. More than ever, we need spaces to express ourselves, to come together, and to heal. Modern life, with its isolating screens and sedentary habits, is unnatural for the human system. Humans thrive in connection—in union with ourselves, with each other, with the source of life, and with the web of existence.

That’s why these practices are so vital. They bring us into rhythms where we align with each other, and they remind us of our humanity. The modern study of sound healing has shown the measurable benefits of these practices, which cultures have intuitively known for millennia. We’re just now proving what they’ve always understood.

I believe this kind of shared expression is medicine—not just for the body but for the whole being. It’s a way to release shame, shed fear of doing things “wrong,” and experience the profound healing that comes from full, unrestrained participation.

Question: You mentioned the neurochemistry of ecstasy. Can you explain what this means and how chanting can influence our brain chemistry? 

Dave Stringer: That’s what the whole workshop is about! One of the first questions to ask is: why do we even have a chemistry of bliss? I believe it’s an evolutionary adaptation. Bliss helps us cooperate, connect, and function in a shared, meaningful way. Practices like singing, drumming, and dancing allowed early humans to work together culturally, fostering compassion and sensitivity toward others.

If you look at a world in which it’s entirely competitive—a dog-eat-dog mentality—progress becomes nearly impossible. When everyone is constantly competing against one another, it’s hard to get anything done. To build and sustain a society, we need mechanisms that promote cooperation. During the pandemic, for example, when people couldn’t gather to engage in these joy-filled practices, we saw a breakdown—heightened conflict, isolation, and division on social media.

These practices counteract some of our worst instincts. Our brains are built to produce ecstasy. Every external drug has an internal counterpart—our brains naturally create chemicals like dopamine (which drives reward-seeking), anandamide (a bliss-producing compound that unlocks creative thinking), and oxytocin (a bonding chemical that floods both a mother’s and infant’s brain after birth, fostering connection and compassion).

Chanting releases these chemicals, which help us reformat our thinking by breaking habitual patterns and encouraging new connections in our brains. Oxytocin, in particular, creates a wave of connection and empathy, essential for building cultural cohesion.

Without these practices, we risk losing our sense of connection and compassion, leading to societal disarray—perhaps even our natural default state. Practices like chanting, singing in choirs, or dancing together, whether pagan, Sufi, or otherwise, aim at a universal experience of bliss. Different cultures approach it from unique perspectives, but they all tap into the same core truth: our brains are wired for bliss, and that helps us cooperate and thrive as humans.

Suzanne Sterling: One of the most fascinating things about sound is its physicality—it moves matter. Sound isn’t just a theoretical concept; it’s tangible. We take air into our lungs, and as it passes through our throats, we shape it into waves. Those sound waves are physical forces that impact our entire physiology. They influence our adrenals, bones, muscles, and, most profoundly, our brains.

For example, our brains vibrate at specific frequencies depending on our state of consciousness. Right now, in conversation, we’re likely in a beta brain wave state, vibrating between 12 and 30 hertz, which is associated with active thinking and engagement. But when we enter a state of deep relaxation—through singing, for instance—our brain waves slow down. Singing creates vibrations from the inside out, directly affecting us in profound ways. It can shift us into an alpha brain wave state, vibrating at 8 to 12 hertz, which promotes calmness and relaxation.

Everything in the universe vibrates at a specific frequency, and this universal principle is mirrored in our own physiology. When we sing together, something incredible happens: our heart rates synchronize, our breathing aligns, and even our brain waves begin to match up. This synchronization is powerful because it quiets the part of the brain that differentiates us from one another. That small mechanism essentially goes offline, and we experience a deep sense of connection.

Humans naturally seek altered states of consciousness. From the beginning of time, rituals involving chanting, drumming, and dancing have helped us shift from mundane reality into states of ecstasy or oneness. These practices allow us to transcend the ordinary and reconnect with eternal truths and divine consciousness.

What’s fascinating is that modern science is now proving what ancient traditions have always known. For example, binaural beats—where slightly different frequencies are played in each ear—can be used to "prescribe" specific states of consciousness. If you hear 100 hertz in one ear and 105 in the other, your brain calculates the difference and shifts to 5 hertz, which is the theta brain wave state associated with deep meditation.

Our culture desperately needs these practices. In today’s world, we’ve lost many of the communal expressions that allow us to connect, release emotions, and feel unity. States of ecstasy—what I call ecstasis—take us out of the status quo and open us to higher truths. These practices are essential for helping us feel connected to ourselves, each other, and the divine.

Question: In Mantras and Molecules, you talk about how athletes can enter a state of flow. Can you explain how chanting helps people enter this state of flow or heightened consciousness?

Dave Stringer: First, I’m not entirely sure what we mean by “higher consciousness,” but I think many people have experienced a state that feels more real than what we usually consider reality. It’s hard to describe, but long-distance runners often talk about this, as do surfers. It’s a sense of being intensely involved in the moment—fully present, aware, and alive—without expectations or distractions.

This state fosters creativity and a profound sense of being. Many religious traditions suggest that human life has strayed from this natural awareness and that practices can help us return to it—back to the "garden," so to speak. Of course, you can’t mow the lawn or cook dinner in a state of ecstatic awareness. Enlightenment, if it exists, might be the ability to move seamlessly between states—switching from deep connection and compassion to practical tasks without ranking one above the other.

This shift begins with our autonomic nervous system, which has two components: the parasympathetic system, responsible for relaxation, and the sympathetic system, which drives excitement or the fight-or-flight response. The hypothalamus acts as a mediator, balancing these systems like an emotional thermostat. When we’re too relaxed, we crave stimulation; when overstimulated, we seek calm.

Certain activities—like sex, chanting, and dancing—can activate both systems simultaneously. Chanting first triggers a relaxation response by changing the way we breathe. Even without knowledge of neuroscience or yoga, we instinctively know that taking a deep breath calms us. Becoming aware of and slowing our breath engages the parasympathetic system, relaxing the body.

In chanting, everyone breathes together, creating a shared state of relaxation. To sing a phrase, you must hold, expel, and inhale breaths in rhythm, aligning the group. This synchronization is essentially pranayama—breath control—and it deepens relaxation. As the chant repeats, it builds excitement, activating the sympathetic system.

Instead of these systems working in opposition, as they usually do, chanting allows them to act in parallel. As the chant speeds up, excitement increases while relaxation persists, creating a unique overlap. At the peak, when maximal relaxation and maximal excitement coincide, something extraordinary happens. It’s an intense, undeniable state that dissolves boundaries and inhibitions, creating a profound sense of connection and release.

This state is deeply therapeutic. Life is filled with stress and uncertainty, and having an experience of being fully present and connected, even briefly, can be transformative. The memory of such moments can sustain us, even when we’re not in that state.

People often hesitate to chant because they feel unprepared or unworthy. I know a friend who’s read every book on yoga but hasn’t practiced because he doesn’t feel “ready.” But readiness comes through practice, not preparation. I’ve learned this firsthand. During periods when I was leading chants five or six nights a week, I often arrived exhausted or stressed. Yet, the act of chanting always brought me to that blissful state, no matter where I started.

I encourage people to bring whatever they’re feeling to the chant—anger, uncertainty, grief, or joy. Throw it into the practice and see what happens. Often, chanting transforms those emotions. You might begin angry and leave feeling love for everyone.

This sense of connection can even extend to perfect strangers. It gives me faith in the potential to love anyone and have compassion for them, no matter their state. This is challenging, especially in significant relationships or family dynamics, which can test us more than any ashram ever could. But through intentional practice, we can reach that place of connection and compassion.

Suzanne Sterling: I love this question because it ties into something I experience all the time in my singing workshops. I often guide people into a state of flow, where they can improvise within the structure of a chant or song, or even create their own parts to contribute to the group. Sometimes, I ask people to write their own chant. Inevitably, they say, “I can’t do that; I’m not creative, I’m not an artist,” but every single time, people amaze me with how creative they are. It happens over and over again. I know, without a doubt, that every person has an incredible capacity for creativity—it’s just about pushing them out of their comfort zones. That’s my job as a facilitator: to gently challenge them, remind them that if they take this step, they’ll unlock something within themselves.

I believe the natural human state is one of flow. When we lived closer to nature, it was easier to be in that flow because nature itself is in a constant state of flow. When we give ourselves permission to listen to our authentic voice and participate in collective singing, it not only unlocks our consciousness but also helps us overcome the shame or silencing we’ve experienced in our culture. In our society, we've often separated artists from regular people, but the truth is, we’re all creative beings. We all have the capacity to create, and we all have permission to express ourselves.

When people are given that permission and a little support, they become incredibly creative. That’s when the flow happens, even though it might come and go. Artists know that creativity isn’t always constant. But there’s much more potential for it in all of us when we’re not shamed into silence or discouraged from playing. Flow is a state of play—something children naturally embrace. Kids wake up and sing without inhibition. They’re in a constant state of flow and play, and in some spiritual and shamanic traditions, this is referred to as the "triple soul" concept.

The triple soul includes the child self, which is in a state of play; the adult self, which helps us function in the world; and the higher self, or the deep self, which connects us to divine creative intelligence. The idea is that the playful self has direct access to the higher self, and often, the adult self can get in the way. But when we tap into that playful state, we’re also tapping into the flow of divine creativity, which is an ongoing conversation with the universe.

That’s the beauty of flow—it’s where the magic happens, and it’s accessible to all of us when we give ourselves permission to play.

Question: Are there any insights that have surprised you in your exploration of the connection between chanting mantras and modern neuroscience?

Dave Stringer: One of the things I find fascinating is how ancient Eastern traditions explored the nature of human experience and consciousness long before the Western world developed the scientific method. These traditions were asking profound questions: What are these transcendent experiences we have, and why do they occur? Interestingly, yoga itself seems to integrate Eastern philosophical ideas with Western scientific attitudes, creating a shared language that feels incredibly relevant today.

There’s often a conversation about Westerners adopting yoga and whether that’s exploitative, but it’s worth remembering that yoga was shared with the intention of spreading it globally. Everything that grows adapts to the conditions of where it’s planted. Just like wine grapes grown in different regions develop unique flavors, yoga and chanting take on unique expressions depending on where they’re practiced—whether it’s at an ashram in India, the Bahamas, or a yoga studio in Chicago. But at their core, they remain the same.

What I find remarkable is how mantras and chanting seem almost designed to bridge cultures and languages. Sanskrit, the language of many mantras, is foundational to numerous modern European languages. It’s also deeply expressive; sounds like “m” or “o” carry an emotional resonance that transcends linguistic boundaries. These sounds seem to tap into a collective awareness of where language itself originates.

Having chanted in nearly 30 countries, I’ve observed that the experience of chanting transcends geography or language. Whether in Beijing, Berlin, or Boston, chanting creates a similar sense of connection and ecstasy. Mantras, while meaningful, often use sounds that transport us beyond intellectual understanding into a place of pure feeling and awareness.

This universality traces back to the Bhakti movement in India during the 14th or 15th century, which parallels the Reformation in Europe. Both movements emphasized a direct, inner connection to the divine, without the need for intermediaries like institutions or priests. They democratized spirituality, suggesting that what we seek already exists within us. These practices are tools to engage, encounter, and work with that inner truth in ways that are profoundly useful.

Ultimately, chanting and mantra practice remind us of our fundamental unity, transcending the surface differences that divide us. That message, rooted in experience rather than ideology, is what makes these practices so special and universally resonant.

Suzanne Sterling: It's fascinating because many cultures have understood the power of sound on consciousness, even before we had the advanced tools we have today to measure it. In ancient times, people believed that sound was the first vibration that created the world and continues to shape it. They used sound and vibrational medicine for healing long before modern science validated it. Fast forward to today, and we now have evidence that sound not only impacts consciousness but also affects the physical body—it can heal organs, accelerate bone healing, and even be used in dental care.

What surprises me most is how sound is also used as a weapon. Devices that harness sound for harm, like long-range audio systems, highlight the immense power sound holds. If sound wasn’t powerful and real, we wouldn’t use it as both a weapon and a healing tool, nor would it be recognized in modern medicine. This is a fascinating time for sound science, where we now know sound can awaken parts of the brain, move objects, and even shift physical and emotional states.

The intersection of ancient wisdom and modern science is revealing just how profound sound is. Music, for example, activates a part of the brain different from other stimuli. I saw this firsthand with my father, who had advanced Alzheimer's. Even though he couldn’t remember who I was, when we sang Amazing Grace, he was able to remember the words and comment on my voice. This shows how sound can bypass memory loss and connect us to deep, inherent parts of ourselves.

I’ve also seen sound’s ability to evoke deep emotions, even when people don’t understand the language. A study with the Pentatonix a cappella version of Hallelujah showed that listeners from non-Western cultures, who didn’t speak English, felt profound sadness and emotion in response to the music. This highlights the universal, emotional power of sound, regardless of understanding the lyrics.

Sound can heal and move trauma out of the body. It works deeply in shifting energy, removing blocks, and restoring the flow of life force, or prana. When we release these blocks, the body naturally returns to balance and health. Sound amplifies this life force, allowing energy to flow freely and healing to take place.

Moreover, there’s growing research into the importance of truth-telling for the brain and immune system. When we speak our truth, we strengthen our immune system. This is also part of sound healing—speaking and embodying our truth is a crucial part of healing.

In my own life, as I process stress and trauma, I’ve found that I can’t always access my truth immediately. It’s often buried under layers of coping mechanisms. But when I let these feelings move through me without freezing or dissociating, I can eventually get to a deeper truth, one that may contradict everything I was taught. This deep listening to oneself is a central practice in sound yoga. In today’s world, we are often distracted, but the ancient practice of deep listening helps us tune in to what’s truly happening within.

As I navigate changes in my own life, like being postmenopausal, I’m learning to listen to these new truths and accept that things have shifted. And as we do this work with sound and chanting, we cultivate the ability to listen to ourselves deeply and honor the truths that arise.

Question: How does the shared energy of group chanting amplify its impact on individuals?

Dave Stringer: In Western culture, individuality is often emphasized in ways unprecedented in human history. While this focus on self-expression and personal fulfillment has its benefits, it’s clear that we can’t truly live in isolation. We depend on one another in countless ways.

When you engage in a musical experience with others, you’re participating in a conversation that inherently requires collaboration. Playing music alone can be gratifying, but it doesn’t compare to the joy of interacting with others through music. In these moments, you transcend your individual self and recognize that, while we are all temporary, our collective existence extends far beyond any single life. There’s a profound beauty in being a drop that merges into the ocean.

Interestingly, our brains respond to this merging. The occipital-parietal region of the brain, associated with our sense of boundaries—what yogis might call the crown chakra—plays a key role. From a molecular perspective, we’re not as separate from our environment as we perceive. We’re constantly exchanging matter with the world through our breath and skin. Yet, we maintain a strong sense of individuality, which is essential for navigating daily life. For example, we can’t let our sense of oneness with the universe make us oblivious to practical dangers, like crossing the street.

However, during practices like chanting, long-distance running, or any activity that demands deep focus, blood flow shifts away from the brain region responsible for creating boundaries. This results in a softening of the sense of separation. MRI scans show this phenomenon clearly, aligning with reports of feeling deeply connected or “unbounded.” These aren’t mere poetic descriptions—the brain reflects this shift, showing that both a state of unbounded unity and a state of intense separation are real and created by our neurological processes.

This duality—our capacity to feel both deeply connected and profoundly alone—is a profound mystery. Chanting and similar practices allow us to explore this paradox, not just philosophically but experientially. They offer a way to engage with the deeper truths of our shared existence, transcending individuality to touch something universal.

Suzanne Sterling: They are closely related. Ritual, in my view, creates a sacred container where we can enter altered states of consciousness, such as bliss, ecstasy, quietude, or connection. The key is to foster an environment where transformation can occur.

When we chant together, we become instruments of sound, and resonance plays a vital role. Resonance occurs when two or more vibrational patterns match, creating an amplification of energy. A classic, though imperfect, example of this is when an opera singer’s note matches the frequency of a wine glass, causing it to shatter. Similarly, when we chant, we resonate at a powerful frequency, not just with the sound we produce individually, but with the collective sound of the group. This collective resonance amplifies the energy, creating something greater than the sum of its parts.

This is what makes group chanting so powerful. It's not just a personal experience—it becomes a shared prayer or spell. For example, when chanting mantras, we activate spiritual energies, expanding them and making them more accessible. We also tap into ancient spiritual grooves that have been set by centuries of practice. One of my favorite examples is the Om Mani Padme Hum mantra, which has been sung continuously in Tibet for centuries. When we chant it collectively, we not only create something new, but we also connect with this long-established spiritual energy.

This collective resonance is central to the power of mantra and chanting. Whether it’s Sanskrit or any other spiritual music, repeated chanting takes us into elevated states of consciousness where we invoke divine energies. For instance, when we chant Om Namah Shivaya, we embody the energy of Shiva. As we align with that energy, our lives transform, and the collective energy we generate impacts the world. While it may sound “new age,” it's rooted in truth—the energy we channel through our chanting uplifts the universe.

Ritual is about being conscious of all this—creating the right container, ensuring everyone feels like an important participant, and differentiating this sacred time from our daily lives. It’s about consciously calling in divine energy and invoking the gods and goddesses into our lives.

Question: Can these practices help with loneliness?

Dave Stringer: I believe these practices can be a powerful remedy for loneliness. Deep down, we all crave connection, yet modern life often isolates us. Many people come to these practices because they foster a sense of community. After singing and dancing with others, even our personal boundaries and shyness start to fade. It becomes easier to approach others, to say hello, and to build connections.

Through these experiences, we often realize that much of our loneliness is self-created—stemming from feelings of unworthiness, differences, or the belief that we have nothing in common. We all need to belong. When we experience this sense of belonging in a space of shared ecstasy, beautiful bonds are formed. Ultimately, these practices help transform loneliness into solitude, making our connections more meaningful and enriching.

Question: How do you engage participants in a way that brings them into this deep transformative state?

Dave Stringer: When I first lived in India at the ashram, I noticed they emphasized making the experience accessible for everyone. This meant creating a comfortable environment—attending to the lighting, the sound, and ensuring people could sit comfortably. I realized this was like theater in the sense that they were trying to engage people, creating a narrative that framed the ideas and experiences in a way that allowed people to truly encounter them.

I’ve adopted this approach as well, thinking of it as an act of theater where the goal is to make people feel involved. For example, I project the mantras so everyone can follow along, which also creates a shared focal point. By looking in the same direction, people are less distracted by their own thoughts. This shared focus is something we naturally enjoy in theater or movies—everyone's attention is on the same thing at the same time, unlike the usual experience of being on a subway where everyone is lost in their own world.

The experience becomes a participatory form of theater. You’re not just watching; you’re actively creating the experience. There’s a band and a singer, but when everyone sings together, the distinction between performer and audience disappears. It’s a powerful shift—an obliteration of the separation between self and world, self and other.

Some forms of art are passive; you watch and absorb. But chanting, in this sense, is confrontational—it requires action. To truly understand it, you can’t just observe. You must participate. The doors to the experience open only when you make the choice to engage and sing. Watching others dance is one thing, but dancing yourself is a whole other level of connection.

Question: What would you tell someone nervous about joining the workshop?

Dave Stringer: One thing I always encourage is that you don’t need to be a great singer to participate. It’s fascinating—those who are singing in tune tend to help others who are off-key get in tune. This is called sympathetic resonance. At the start of a chant, it can sound messy, and you might think, “Everyone’s singing out of tune.” But after 15 or 20 minutes, it’s incredible how quickly the room comes into harmony. That’s because, in a way, everyone’s brainwaves and breath are syncing up.

We all have a voice, and everyone can sing. Some people may have a naturally beautiful voice, but that doesn’t mean others can’t sing in tune. I love the idea of sympathetic resonance because it’s a metaphor for life. When people act with compassion or mindfulness, it helps others who may not be there yet come into alignment with that energy. Just as fear is contagious, so is compassion and joy.

Throughout history, fear and anger have been used destructively, but compassion and ecstasy have also been powerfully transformative. It’s a choice—what energy do we want to create here? Personally, I’d rather be known for spreading ecstasy than for creating a cycle of fear.

Question: What do you hope participants will take away from your talk and how can they integrate this blissful experience in their daily lives?

Dave Stringer: I hope that people leave with a sense of their own worthiness and deservingness. Many people deep down feel they're not entitled to experience life from a place of joy, and when they see others talking about "we're all one" or "everything is connected," they might think, "Really?" I get that skepticism myself sometimes. But the thing is, that experience is undeniable. If you walk away not only understanding a bit more about how it works but, more importantly, having felt it firsthand, that makes a difference in how you carry yourself and how you view the world.

The experience itself is contagious, almost addictive. Once your brain experiences the symphony of neuropeptides involved in this kind of practice, you want to do it again because it feels good. And when you feel good, the world feels better around you. It’s not about politics or ideology—it’s purely experiential. If you want to live in a better world, simply be kind and engage in practices that make you kinder.

Part of the reason I speak about this in terms of mantras and molecules is that I understand that people often have resistance to these kinds of experiences. Framing it scientifically makes it more credible, even when we’re encountering something truly incredible. It makes it easier to explain to others too—no, I didn’t join a cult, I had this experience, and it made me happy. Afterward, I felt happier with everyone around me, and even the things that troubled me seemed to shift. Maybe I gained a new sense of mindfulness, or perhaps something clicked and allowed me to think differently about my challenges.

Suzanne Sterling: I want them to have a deeply visceral experience of permission to embrace their creative selves. I hope they leave knowing they are free to sing, without any shame or self-doubt. Whatever beliefs they may have learned that told them they couldn’t or shouldn’t sing—those beliefs are gone. This is deep, beautiful medicine; it’s a spiritual practice.

While the scientific evidence is important—because it’s changing the way we understand healing and medicine—what matters most to me is the tangible experience. I want people to feel the power in the room, to sense the energy of the group, and to connect with the divine. I want them to feel that they are part of something larger—this shimmering landscape of sound, flow, and creativity that belongs to all of us. It's like a living prayer. That’s what I hope participants will take away.

Question: What would you tell someone who says they are just not creative or they don’t have a musical bone in their body?

Dave Stringer: Many people, because of some early trauma or experiences in school, become convinced that artists are somehow different from everyone else—that they’re the only ones who can sing or be creative. But that’s a wound because no one has to be a great musician or singer to benefit from the power of music. Singing, in particular, has a profound impact on the brain, which is one of the things the workshop aims to demonstrate.

Everyone can sing. In many ways, it’s like learning to ride a bike. At first, you might wobble or fall over, but eventually, you start to find your balance, and you become aware of what it feels like to sing in tune. You have to sing off-key at first, and singing in a group is forgiving—no one’s really listening to you individually, but you’re swept up in the collective sound. Your brain quickly adapts, and it’s incredible how fast people learn to sing in tune.

I hope that people come to this with the understanding that they don’t have to be experts. If you’ve had some trauma around music, this is a great way to heal in a supportive environment, and it happens naturally. You don’t need special exercises to sing in tune; you just need to sing in a group for a while, and soon you’ll start to feel it.

When you’re singing in tune, you can hear and feel it—there’s a sense of alignment in the sound waves and in your brain waves. This creates consonance and resonance, and I believe that process can help heal trauma and overcome feelings of difference. Art isn’t something separate from you; it’s something you can actively participate in. What makes it creative is often what happens after the experience.

You might be an accountant and suddenly have a breakthrough with a problem, or a scientist, or in any field, your brain disconnects old patterns and allows for new ideas. Participating in art, whether through music or dance, enhances all aspects of human activity. You don’t have to be an artist to benefit from the experience.

Suzanne Sterling: One of my goals is to help people explore the landscape of their own voice. Many people say, "I can't sing," or "I'm tone-deaf," but I rarely, if ever, meet someone who can't sing. What I find is that they aren't familiar with their instrument. I want to dispel this myth and provide tips and tools to help people explore their voice in a way that’s enjoyable, safe, and correct. It's not about becoming a professional musician—it's about embracing the incredible gift we all have: our voice. Once we let go of the ego’s judgment of "good" or "bad," we can begin to enjoy the process of connecting with our instrument. When we do, it becomes playful, joyful, and even effortless. By allowing our authentic voice to come through, we can even reach states of ecstasy. Singing is easy, it's our birthright, and it’s simple.

Question: How do your collaborations influence your approach to blending music? 

Dave Stringer: One of the fascinating aspects of kirtan as it evolves into a spiritual art form is how it blends Eastern ideas and instruments with Western techniques. In the East, there’s traditionally little harmony in the music; everyone sings a single melodic line together. In contrast, in the West, ecstasy is often expressed through harmony, as seen in the oral traditions of Western churches.

From an ethnomusicological perspective, what’s happening right now is incredibly interesting. Eastern musicians are adapting Western instruments—like guitars and keyboards—and applying them to Eastern ideas. At the same time, Western musicians are incorporating Eastern instruments, like the tabla and harmonium, into Western experiences. This fusion is creating a dynamic cross-cultural exchange.

Kirtan is playing a significant role in this by creating a form of popular music that invites participation, where people sing along. For example, at a U2 concert, everyone knows the words, and there’s that feeling of collective ecstasy when the crowd sings together. Kirtan harnesses that same energy. By incorporating electric guitars or singing in harmony, we're crafting a musical environment that resonates with Western listeners, allowing them to engage in a practice with deep Eastern roots.

A single chant can move from a deeply Eastern vibe to reggae, gospel or rock and roll. It’s a really exciting fusion—whether or not you know anything about yoga, if you love music, you’ll likely find it fascinating.