The Secret behind Each Melody
We tend to imagine spells as something from storybook fantasies—witches muttering above cauldrons, wands making fire. Yet the most magical has always existed in something much more within reach than we might imagine: sound.
Spells are songs.
They are vibration incantations, holding frequencies beyond the reach of logic and sinking deep into the body, the spirit, where traumas lie hidden. As a therapist working with traumatic experiences, I have been with clients unable to articulate their pain—yet, with the right song playing, their bodies recalled. Tears streamed. Breathing deepened. Something relaxed.
This is not metaphor. Neuroscience validates that music will engage the limbic system, the emotional center of the brain, sooner than words. A melody will ease a memory it takes years of talk therapy to slowly unfurl. A rhythm will align with a broken nervous system and tell it: You are here. You are safe. You can move again.
Healing with Sound: Because Trauma Resonates to Vibration
It’s not just a narrative we narrate—something we share as words—trauma is a physical mark. It resides in the slouch of shoulders that learned to curl up to protect themselves. In the clenched jaw against the screams they never made. In the muteness where words cannot reach.
But sound? Sound penetrates to locked places.
Lullabies comfort the inner child who was not safe.
Drumbeats bring us back to the fundamental rhythm of survival, anchoring us before dissociation sweeps us away.
Choral harmonies evoke the deep sense of being embraced, reminding us we are not isolated.
In my practice, I have seen clients hum during a session—nearly subconsciously—and suddenly, one has popped to the surface. A grief has been released. A long-standing tension has dissipated. This is the alchemy of sound: It does not merely delineate healing—it enacts it.
Ancestral Echoes: When Songs Convey More Than Just Notes
In most cultures, they’re not only art—songs are living records of strength.
The blues, born of Black spirituality and enslavement, allowed pain to be embodied and contained. Native chant traditions have maps of land and star maps in their beats. Even your grandmother’s humming hymns while cooking—those contained something as well. Codes of Survival instructions. A way of saying, “We have been here before. We know how to endure.“
When we sing some of these hymns, we do not merely recall—we evoke. We allow voices from past to travel through our vocal cords, to borrow their power. That is why some melodies make us shudder. Why some hymn you have not heard for years will suddenly bring you to your knees.
You are not merely listening to the song. You are in conversation with the past.
Embodied Magic: Singing as a Somatic Practice
You don’t require a “good” voice to do this kind of magic. Your voice is already a healing instrument.
Humming triggers the vagus nerve to soothe panic and to inform the body it is safe.
Chanting (a single word or tone) grounds us in the current moment, drawing us away from traumatic loops.
Wailing, yes, wailing, lets out what language cannot contain. Grief. Anger. The generational burden we carry.
This is somatic alchemy, the type of healing which does not merely discourse about pain, but moves through it. I have led clients to sing their wrath, to drum the rhythm of their heartbeat back into sync, to allow their voices to crack and to break because healing dwells there.
Cast Your Own Sound Spell With This Invitation
Tonight, do this:
Select a piece of music that is like home to you—perhaps one your ancestors sang, or one your body sways to without permission.
Sing like you don’t care if anyone is listening. Not well. Not beautifully. Simply wholly.
Observe what is happening. Does your chest relax? Do tears well up? Does something whisper to you, “Yes, this. More of this.”
That’s the magic working.
The Truth about Healing
Healing is not about removing pain. It is about reclaiming your voice amidst it. Songs tell us our shattered notes have the potential to weave into something great. That our ancestors still sing in us. That the wounded body we have still understands how to resonate in joy.
Keep singing. Keep humming. Keep letting sound remind you
You are a living spell
Melissa Taylor, RSW
Trauma Therapist | Somatic Practitioner | Ancestral Sound Believer
