My story

I was a drummer before I was a guide.

I started playing when I was twelve. At nineteen I went all in — a place where we played every day, all genres, band after band. I never really rehearsed. I just played and listened, played and listened. Not from the head — to feel the music, to know it. Twenty years of music.

Then my body said stop.

I was burnt out for a long while. And I didn't find my way back until I saw how I had been holding my own power back. When I finally saw the holding, the power returned — and my voice opened. I remember the moment: is this my voice?

Part of the story: I grew up feminine — a feminine boy, a feminine man. It was only about five years ago that I understood what masculinity is, what power really is. Because I had so little of it, finding it was unmistakable: aha — this is it. I'm still learning. But it is so beautiful to give up the suppressing of who you are.

The seed was planted early. In school I felt sorry for myself and my situation — until something shifted in me, not in my surroundings, and suddenly I had friends everywhere, in my year and the years above. I couldn't have explained it then. I can now: I changed how I related to myself. My mother fed that fire with books and conversations about what it means to grow.

And one of my choir teachers once told me she gave birth without drugs — she used her voice to move the pain. It took me fifteen years to understand what she meant: if you express what you feel at 100% — not 90, not holding a little back — the feeling moves. It changes. And you can follow the change with your voice.

Six years ago I turned all of this into a practice. Since then: around a thousand sound journeys, for myself and others. Sessions, workshops, trainings. I built the Vocal Liberation Method from that lived journey — testing everything on myself first.

I've met great teachers. But the greatest teacher I have is with me every day: my voice.