Weekly Insight #45 - How Presence Is Experienced—Not Just Seen

Here’s a present: 

No wrapping needed—just breath, clarity, and a bit of intention.

You can hear it. You can feel it. Especially in the voice.

You may be curious about how your voice is received—especially if you’ve ever been told it sounds uncertain or unclear. But before making any changes, it’s worth asking: what do we actually expect a strong voice to sound like?

A recent article on executive presence asked the same question—but about leadership. And the answer wasn’t volume. It wasn’t about looking or sounding impressive. It was something deeper: a voice that resonates because it’s grounded, coherent, and emotionally aware.

What Do We Actually Mean by 'Presence'?

Think for a moment: how would you describe a leader with so-called "presence"? They sound confident. They project their voice with steadiness and shape. They hold the room through timing, pauses, shifts in gaze, and how their voice lands in the space.

But what do these observations really mean—for someone with their own voice, their own way of noticing, interpreting, and using their voice?

It’s easy to inherit the image of what leadership should look or sound like without considering how it fits our own tone, breath, and sense of timing.

What if presence isn't about performing those behaviors, but noticing how our voice interacts with them—and deciding what serves?

But in the June 2025 article “Executive Presence, Revisited: How Leadership Is Being Felt, Not Just Seen” (Women of Influence), we see a different framing. Leadership isn’t being performed anymore—it’s being felt. And this matters for how we think about voice.

Six Takeaways That Shift the Frame

Let’s translate their six leadership traits into voice-centered reflections:
1. 🧽 Emotional clarity, not just control
The article highlights how grounded leaders speak from regulation, not reactivity. Before adjusting your pitch or tone, ask—Can I notice what I’m feeling without letting it take over my voice?

2. 🔊 Build voice, not volume
They write: “Effective leaders don’t need to dominate a room.” There’s no requirement to sound powerful. Speak from a place of authenticity—grounded in breath and intention, shaped to connect with meaning and context.

3. 🌟 Hold dual awareness
Leadership often involves navigating tension—between trying to get a message across and staying aware—listening even as you speak—for when a shift in pace or tone might help others stay with you. Can your delivery adjust depending on who’s listening—not just what you rehearsed?

4. 🛡️ Create psychological safety
A “strong voice” isn’t about strength over others. It’s about shaping sound in a way that invites others in—and gives them the sense that they’re part of the exchange, even if they’re not speaking. A good speaker creates the feeling that they’re speaking with you, not just at you.

 
5. 🪞 Reflective visibility
You don’t have to be "on" all the time. In many settings, being "on" means projecting a version of yourself—smiling too hard, modulating your voice too precisely, or keeping up a persona that doesn’t feel genuine. Real connection doesn’t require that kind of constant output.

 
6. 💡 Align inner and outer worlds

“Don’t explain your philosophy. Embody it.” —Epictetus

A powerful voice doesn’t come from copying someone else's delivery. Imitation might help us explore how something sounds—but it only becomes useful if it enters the body. We might rehearse a message, try out phrases that feel strong, or even mimic a vocal style that speaks to us—something that resonates and helps shape what we want to say. But over time, that shaping has to connect to our own breath, our own pace, and our actual intention.

The word “perform” sometimes gets used negatively—as if it means pretending or overdoing. But the issue isn’t with trying out new ways of speaking—it’s whether the voice still feels like yours. Imitation can be useful when it helps you find something that resonates. It only works, though, when it becomes part of how you actually communicate—when your words, breath, and intention all show up together, clearly and on your terms. That’s what it means to embody your voice, not just describe it.

Why This Matters 

If you explore voice work with outdated ideas of what “executive presence” sounds like, you may overlook what’s already working.

You may try to imitate authority—projecting certainty, lowering your tone, or using polished language to create the right impression—without connecting to your actual intention. Such a disconnect can make clarity harder to access.Communicating clearly means letting your thinking, breath, and voice line up so that the listener doesn’t just hear the message—they understand that you mean it—and they can feel it in how the voice resonates, how the breath supports the tone, and how the message lands without force. It can feel disorienting when a person’s natural voice—their pitch, pacing, or vocal texture—doesn’t seem to match the version they’ve been encouraged to adopt. The gap doesn’t signal something wrong—it’s an opportunity to notice what’s being shaped, how, and for whom.

What’s at stake isn’t just how a voice is perceived. It’s about your nervous system, your breath, and how you relate to what you’re saying.

Upcoming articles will go beyond questioning common ideas about voice—they’ll explore how your voice can serve as a reliable, flexible instrument, not just something to control.

📝 P.S. You can find more voice reflections and weekly insights on the blog anytime:https://dyavwithelias.blogspot.com

#DevelopingYourAuthenticVoice#VoiceMatters#ExecutiveCommunication#InternalCommunication#VocalTraining#LeadershipCommunication#Clarity#CommunicationSkills#Presence

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Weekly Insight #44- When Voice Advice Sounds Vague—But Sticks Anyway

“Even a well-shaped statue needs direction. Voice is no different.” — Inspired by Epictetus, Discourses 3.1.25

A look at common metaphors that show up in voice work.

If you’ve ever been in a voice lesson, workshop, or presentation about speaking with confidence, you’ve probably heard something like this:

• “Place the voice in your mask.”
• “Speak from the belly.” 
• “Drop the breath.” 
• “Send the voice forward.” 
• “Resonate your sound through your face.”

These kinds of phrases come up often. They’re familiar, and in some cases they help point a person in a useful direction. But they can also be hard to apply—especially when there’s no explanation of what they mean physically.

Sports Instruction

I’m not a golfer, but I often think about how instruction works in sports.

Let’s say someone is learning a golf swing. They might hear:

“Let the club do the work.” “Just follow through.” “Just feel it.” “Don’t overthink it.”

These are phrases that describe the experience of a coordinated movement—but they don’t teach someone how to build that coordination. If you don’t know what your body is doing in the first place, those tips may not help.

Voice advice often works the same way. It tends to describe an outcome or a sensation, without offering a clear path to get there.

What the Phrases Might Mean

These phrases come up often in training spaces. Sometimes they’re grounded in deep experience and well-explained. Other times, they’re passed along with little context—leaving people unsure what to do with them.

Take “speak from the belly.” It gets people thinking about grounding the voice lower in the body, which is useful. But we don’t actually speak from the stomach. What’s usually meant is that the voice should be supported by low, efficient breath—not by lifting the shoulders or tightening the upper chest.

“Drop the breath” often points to the same thing: releasing upper chest tension and allowing a lower, diaphragmatic breath to take over, rather than relying on shallow or high breathing.

“Place the voice forward” refers to a sensation some people experience—feeling vibration in the front of the face or head. But that sensation is shaped by vowel, pitch, breath pressure, and anatomy. It isn’t universal. And aiming for it directly can sometimes lead to tension or over-effort.

Usually these phrases are used by trained voice professionals who can explain them in practical terms. But there are also situations where this language is used in a way that sounds polished but isn’t connected to a deeper understanding of what the voice is doing. That can leave people unsure how to apply the advice—or whether it applies at all.

What Helps Instead

In my experience, real improvement comes when people start observing:

• How they’re using their breath
• Where they’re holding tension
• How their tone responds to vowel shape
• What changes when they adjust something small

You don’t need a detailed vocal map. But when a metaphor helps give shape to something you’re already noticing—when it supports physical awareness rather than replacing it—it can be useful. The image works best when it points toward something specific, not when it stands in for explanation.

When Advice Doesn’t Fit

Many people I’ve worked with come in carrying a mix of ideas—some metaphorical, some technical—that they’ve picked up from different sources. Some of it’s helpful. Some of it doesn’t relate to what they’re actually doing.

That’s where guided feedback matters. Even if you’ve trained your voice well—or have strong natural instinct—that alone isn’t always enough. Sometimes it helps to have someone who can point out what you don’t yet see. As Epictetus puts it:

“Even if the body is well-formed and disciplined, knowledge is still needed. What good is having a body like a statue if you don’t know how to use it?” — Discourses 3.1.25, paraphrased from the original Greek

A good guide doesn’t tell you exactly what to sound like. They help you recognize what you’re already doing, and what’s available to you next.

Final Thought

Metaphors aren’t the problem. But they aren’t the solution either. They work best when they come after experience—not in place of it.

If you’ve heard phrases like “place it forward” or “drop the breath” and they haven’t helped, that’s not a failure. It may just mean it’s time to observe what’s actually happening—breath, tone, effort, and response—and let that guide the next step.


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#DevelopingYourAuthenticVoice#VoiceMatters#ExecutiveCommunication#InternalCommunication#VocalTraining#LeadershipCommunication#Clarity#CommunicationSkills#Presence

🎙️ Weekly Insight #43: When The Process Becomes the Problem

Letting go of the score, trusting the preparation, and reclaiming presence.

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Why would a top-performing team be told not to focus on winning?

Nick Saban, head coach of Alabama, doesn’t train his players to chase outcomes. He trains them to trust the next step.

He calls it “The Process.”

“Don’t think about the scoreboard. Don’t worry about the opponent. Just do your job—this play, this moment, this rep.”
— Nick Saban (paraphrased)

That mindset is appealing—especially when life feels overwhelming. When there’s too much to track, it helps to focus on what’s right in front of you.

But what happens when focusing on the next step makes you forget why you're walking?

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The Trap: Getting Everything Right

Saban’s approach reminds me of something I see all the time in music: people want to get every detail right. Every note, every rhythm, every marking.

And the more they chase that correctness, the more they risk something essential—connection.

When I perform, I usually sing from memory. Most professionals do. It’s not just about skill—it’s about being present. Being in the song, not just looking at it.

But there are moments when I’ve kept the score on stage. Maybe I wasn’t fully secure on a new piece. And here’s what I’ve noticed—something many singers will recognize.

Having the score nearby pulls you back into the page.
You start chasing accuracy instead of living the phrase.
You focus so much on what’s written that you start to lose the sense of who you’re sharing it with.

Oddly, that “safety net” can make the performance less alive.

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When Risk Brings Meaning

Singing from memory isn’t about showing off. It’s about being present—fully present. Not reading the song, but inhabiting it. Living inside the words, the music, the moment.

It is risky.

You might miss a word. You might breathe in the wrong place. You might even, heaven forbid, lose your way and not be perfectly accurate.

But the people you’re singing or speaking to aren’t tracking every syllable. They’re listening for the feeling behind the words—whether you’re really with them as you sing or speak.

We, as performers, know what’s on the page. We know when we deviate. But most listeners don’t—and even when they do, they often don’t mind. What they notice is whether we’re engaged. Whether we mean it.

And very often, meaning comes through more clearly when we’ve let go of the page—not in spite of that choice, but because of it.

The preparation—the process—is still essential. It’s what gives you something to trust. It’s what allows you to stand and speak or sing from a place of knowing, rather than fear. That’s what frees you to take the risk.

That’s the point when it stops being about technique and starts becoming communication.

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The Trouble with Chasing Perfection

The danger isn’t in the mistake—it’s in what happens after the mistake.

You miss a word, a note, a breath, and suddenly your mind starts talking: “I can’t believe I did that.” “That’s going to throw the rest of this off.” “They probably noticed.”

And just like that, you're no longer in the room. You’re still performing, maybe even still technically correct, but you’re disconnected.

The audience is still with you. But you’re somewhere else, turned inward, trying to recover a moment you’ve already lost. And once that spiral starts, it’s hard to return.

I understand that pull. When I sing a piece from memory for the first time, there's a strong desire to keep the score nearby. Just in case. Just to be sure.

That impulse brings to mind the story of Orfeo and Eurydice.

Orfeo plays so beautifully that the gods grant him permission to lead Eurydice out of Hades—on one condition: he must not look back. But his doubt overtakes him. He turns to check. And in doing so, he loses her.

I think about that every time I’m tempted to glance back at the music. Every time I don’t quite trust that I know what I know.

Because when we stop trusting ourselves and start checking, we often lose the very thing we’re trying to hold on to.

The goal isn’t perfection. The goal is presence.

And the only way to stay present is to let go of the score and trust that the preparation is already in you.

"Orfeo had the music. But doubt made him look. In voice, as in life, real presence begins when we stop checking the score."

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What the Stoics Actually Say

Process-focused thinking often gets linked to Stoicism. But the Stoics weren’t interested in rigid execution. They were concerned with alignment—with nature, with reason, and with one’s role.

“First, say to yourself what you would be; then do what you have to do.”
— Epictetus, Discourses 3.23

That’s not blind discipline. It’s the kind that comes from considering your role and responding to what the moment asks.

They cared less about doing it perfectly and more about doing it for the right reasons.

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In Voice Work, Zoom In After You Zoom Out

When I teach voice, we focus on small things:

• The vowel

• The phrase

• The gesture of a breath

But we never start there.
We start with: What are you trying to express? What does this passage ask of you?

Only once you know that can you build a process that supports it.

That’s where technique becomes art.
That’s when practice becomes performance.

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What to Notice This Week

If you're feeling mechanical or uninspired, ask:

• “Have I let the process become the goal?”

• “What would this sound like if I stopped trying to get it right?”

And if you’re overwhelmed:

• Shrink the frame. Ask: “What can I do well, right now?”

Zoom out when you’re stuck in the weeds.
Zoom in when you’re lost in the clouds.

Neither direction is always right. But one usually gets ignored.

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Final Note

Nick Saban isn’t wrong. “The Process” matters. So does preparation. So does practice.

But if all you’re doing is running routines, you’ll miss the larger movement.

The Stoics understood this. Singers do, too.
You don’t just need effort.
You need orientation—and the willingness to step away from the page when the time comes.

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#DevelopingYourAuthenticVoice #VoiceMatters #LeadershipCommunication #EmotionalIntelligence #Clarity #TheProcess #PresenceOverPerfection #TrustThePreparation #StoicWisdom #PerformanceMindset

 🎙️ Weekly Insight #42: When the Words Are Yours

Recently, I wrote a LinkedIn article called Does This Sound Like You? 

It explored how easy it is to let AI tools like ChatGPT take the reins when drafting a post or a comment. The ideas might be solid. The sentences might be smooth. But if you haven’t shaped it, spoken it, or infused it with your sense of pacing and vocal phrasing—it might not sound like you.

This week, let’s take that same idea and explore how it plays out in our voice—how we use it to shape meaning in the moment, whatever the setting.

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When I work with singers or speakers, one of the biggest turning points comes when they stop trying to sound "right" and start trying to sound real. That often starts with listening—carefully—to how they speak, how they shape a phrase, how they breathe.

Musicality often gets treated like a vague artistic instinct, but at its core, it’s really about using technique—vowel length, breath pressure, dynamic shape, articulation—as a way to express deliberate personal intent. If you’ve taken the time to investigate what you want to say or communicate, then those technical elements become tools to bring that message to life. Musicality isn’t decoration; it’s what happens when technical control meets personal intention—when you know what you want to say and have the tools to shape it clearly. They show up in how we write—whether it’s a blog post, an email, or even a quick text message.

In fact, this is something I learned from a story about Frank Sinatra. Steve Wynn once described how Sinatra would sit down with a lyric sheet before rehearsing. He’d go through it word by word, marking the ones he wanted to lean into, where he’d breathe, and which lines needed more space—so their emotional or lyrical meaning could really register with the listener. Sinatra didn’t just rehearse for perfection—he looked at each lyric, made decisions about breath, emphasis, and pacing, and shaped the performance so it meant something real. His goal wasn’t polish—it was about forming a real-time intention in the moment, shaping each phrase so it carried something personal and alive.

Writing is like that. And so is singing. Even when the notes are on the page, it’s the phrasing—the way you shape each word and breath—that makes it yours. Whether you're singing a familiar melody or refining an AI-generated draft, the phrasing still has to reflect your intention and your voice. Without that, the result can be technically fine but emotionally distant.

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In Developing Your Authentic Voice, we often work through four key elements: Intention, Breath, Tone, and Connection.

• Intention: What are you trying to say?

• Breath: Where does the breath settle? Are you holding it—maybe without realizing-, or using its energy to support what your  intention?

• Tone: Does your tone carry steadiness, urgency, warmth, or something else entirely—and is that quality intentional?

• Connect: Can the reader—or listener—feel you behind the words?

These same principles can show up in many different settings—this is how I use it when I’m rehearsing a song, clarifying an idea, or expressing something I want to be understood in real time. Voice isn’t just about vocal cords. It’s about ownership. Vibration. Deliberate expression.

Whether you're writing with help or singing from memory, the challenge is the same: you still have to make it your own. Read it out loud. Phrase it. Shape it. Ask: Is this something I’d actually say—or sing?

Because once it sounds like you, it can reach someone else.

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📜 “First say to yourself what you would be; and then do what you have to do.” — Epictetus