NEW YORK TALK

Dear Friends,
I lived in New York City for over 20 years.

When I moved out West someone asked me to “scrub the New York attitude.” I was offended and asked what he meant.

He said I had a nasty tone in my voice when I spoke. I was flabbergasted, thinking I was the epitome of Southern charm, no matter where I lived.

I absolutely know about the New York attitude now, having lived in Los Angeles for 24 years.

It’s nice here.

So, having spoken to a radio producer in New York 5 or 6 times recently, who has offered me a wonderful deal: five radio shows which will be internationally syndicated, and a cable tv show in New York, plus a billboard in Times Square, I was impressed and honored to be chosen as someone who this producer wanted to represent.

But holy you-know-what! Each time I call her corporate office, it is worse than before. The receptionist is irritable, no one sounds like they have time for me, and there is an edge which makes me want to beg for mercy and offer gold, my firstborn child, anything, just
for some courtesy and help.

Our voices – the way we sound – our tone and timbre – entrain with others’ tones and timbres, so we all mimic and parrot one another, whether we want to or not. Our sounds resonate with one another, and this in turn creates mood and atmosphere. We are literally
a vibrational auric field made of sound.

A Course in Miracles says that words are but symbols of symbols, twice removed from reality.

So, it isn’t so much the words themselves, but the tone in which the words are delivered.

I hope I can stay the course and get my radio shows out there. I was asked because Southern Fried Spirituality™ is unique, they say, because my psychotherapy has a “spiritual tone.” Very few psychotherapists are brave enough, said the producer, to talk
about the “g” word. (God. Duh.)

I’ll take that. I’ll talk about the “g” word any day. And I will take the spiritual tone along with it.

And I will try to make my words (and sounds) sweet, because, as someone once said to me, I will end up having to eat them.

Love, Gopita