For me, truly free and open improvisation does not come from vocal technique alone. I increasingly feel that its deeper root lies in how I abide in the present moment. When I do not decide in advance what the next vocal gesture or melody will be, and do not rush to control where the sound is going, I have to return to the present—to listen to the body, breath, emotion, space, and the connections that are forming in the moment.
The presence I speak of is not an abstract concept. For me, it is more like temporarily letting go of judgment, preconceptions, and attachment to outcomes, allowing myself to fully inhabit the present moment and giving what has not yet taken form the space to emerge naturally.
For this reason, Light Language has gradually become more than a noun for me. It may appear to be a noun, but what it points to is a mode of action—and, increasingly, a way of living.
For me, this means carrying into daily life the state I have come to know through improvisation: making fewer assumptions in advance, loosening the urge to judge or control, returning more fully to perception, to the present moment, and to being itself, and remaining open to what is unfolding and what has not yet taken form.
In this sense, Light Language feels more like a hidden verb.
I understand Sound Path as the way my creative practice unfolds outward, while Being Path brings me back to the inner state from which that creative work can arise.
As a noun, Light Language points to a form of non-semantic vocal expression; as a verb, it means loosening the mind’s hold, returning to the present, and returning to being itself.
For me, it has therefore gradually moved from a form of vocal expression into a way of living, a state of being.
Beginning with relation in sound, I extend the inquiry to how we relate to one another, to the world, and to ourselves. The classic offers no ready-made answers; it is another doorway through which I can continue asking.