Vocal Empowerment for All! Transform Your Life through the Power of Sound with Chloe Goodchild

Chloe Goodchild is the founder of The Naked Voice, a pioneering vocal training program founded in 1990 that explores voice as a spiritual practice, sustained by conscious core practices, devotional music, and audiobooks that empower you to embody and express your authentic voice. The Naked Voice Charitable Foundation was established in 2004 to restore ethical, healthy, happy, and harmonious relationships—personal, global, and universal.

Chloe’s seminal book, The Naked Voice – Transform Your Life through the Power of Sound (North Atlantic Books, 2015), provides a comprehensive and instructional account of the essential Naked Voice wisdom of sound. She is a faculty member and author for The Shift Network and Sounds True. Her music albums, online courses, and new podcast series, VOCE Dialogues – Voices of Compassionate Evolution, further explore her work.

Anandra had the great privilege to have talked with Chloe Goodchild. The interview video below was for our Mantras for Peace: A Wisdom Gathering project.*

Highlights from the interview:

Anandra: We'd love to have you share a bit about who you are and what you do in the world with our global community of peacemakers and aspiring peacemakers.

Chloe: Okay. Well, thank you, Anandra, for this opportunity for us to explore this. I can tell that we are both absolute lovers of sound, from the very beginning of life, I imagine, from birth itself. For me, I run something called the Naked Voice Foundation, which is now a global community. I'm based in England, right now, in the land where they’re pulling down all the colonial statues as we speak. It's an incredibly powerful time to be alive. There is this increasing fascination with voice, with how we can personally and collectively express our authentic voice.
The Naked Voice is something I coined in 1990 after a transformative experience I had in India, when I happened upon non-dual communication in a big way. I was very blessed, and it marked the end of at least two or three decades of searching: Why am I here? What am I doing here? Why does no one teach me what I really want to know? I had a wonderful education, intellectually, and I studied music at Cambridge. But after Cambridge, I realized that although I had been gifted an incredible repertoire of sacred music, something was still missing. It was as if sound itself was always taking me out of my body, rather than bringing me down into it.
It was in Africa, at the age of 18, that I was first introduced to the instinctual voice. My dad was a bishop, a Protestant bishop, and I was brought up in a rarefied Christian household. They were doing their best, but it was quite a psychotic environment as well. They had five very hormonally charged, challenged, and questioning children. That’s my gratitude to them for the opportunity to question.
Long story short, my travels in Africa, the Middle East, and finally India, where I connected with the saint Ananda Mayi Ma, were pivotal. It was my connection with her that helped dissipate my ordinary mind. I was blessed to meet someone called Poonjaji, who later became known as Papaji, and Gangaji, whom I knew very well. We met Poonjaji at almost the same time. I spent six days with him, and those six days completely altered the course of my life and my relationship with sound. For him, the sound of silence was the true sound.
His instruction to me was to go back to England and be silent. In that silence, I began to hear everyone's voice as a naked voice. That was the only term I could find that didn’t have any political, religious, or sociological connotations.

Anandra: It’s a bit sexy though.

Chloe: Sorry?

Anandra: It’s quite sexy.

Chloe: I’m not going to let that one slide. Let’s be clear about why we call it the naked voice. You say you’re not going up and out, but going down and in. Well, that’s been my journey. In India, they have a language for that—the whole language of Tantra, Mantra, and Yantra. Suddenly, it made perfect sense to me. I was having very powerful experiences in the early nineties with sound and energy. I discovered that it was through mantra that my whole body could calm down, align itself, and navigate the surge of energy coursing through me. The mantra brought me home to myself, and that was the beginning of the Naked Voice.
Since then, it’s become a global community. Although I was a vocal therapist at the time, I was much more of a therapist within the context of a psychological, historical narrative conversation. After meeting Poonjaji and Ananda Mayi Ma, I began to explore how sound can dissolve these narratives. This became the foundation of the pedagogy that we've developed since then.

Anandra: Yeah. It sounds like you had a moment when the spiritual dimensions of sound opened up to you.

Chloe: Yes.

Anandra: You caught the resonance embodied through these teachers you were working with. Ananda Mayi is the one who is full of Ananda—the bliss. When you’re so full of bliss, you can’t help but be silent.

Chloe: Exactly.

Anandra: It’s interesting that you say that because even the need to sing disappeared. The silence was just complete unto itself. There was no need for anything. It was during this experience that the inner sound, the nada, started happening. It was like, “Wow.”

Anandra: God, that’s so interesting. I’m going through something like that right now too. Even though I teach voice and mantra and help people lead chanting experiences, I don’t feel like singing right now. It’s just… silence.

Chloe: Beautiful.

Anandra: It’s lovely to hear that you've been through this too, and that it’s part of the natural cycle or evolution.

Chloe: Yes.

Anandra: I’m sharing this because I think there are others watching or listening who have gone deep into a sound-based practice, been disciplined, and then, all of a sudden, the stillness absorbs everything. There’s no need for anything.

Chloe: Yes. I’m sure this is the case for you as well—the teachings you received from these extraordinary masters all end up in the same place: one self is all there is.

Anandra: In neurobiology, the guru principle is explained through mirror neurons. When you see something modeled, you can imagine yourself being in that role. Your neurons fire in the same pattern, which is part of what makes us human and allows us to evolve.

Chloe: Beautiful. Yes. That's why we are so plastic—so changeable.
Absolutely. Yeah. I need to do the whole, um, the whole nature of transmission, which is what you're also pointing to. It's just so great, isn't it, how modern science is really becoming a new kind of mystical language for all of this?

Anandra: You know, let's talk about that in terms of the voice and your work with the voice because I think you and I are on the same page—that there's such power in the voice and such healing potential in the voice. I'm really curious about how you have found ways to help model that naked voice and bring that out in other people.

Chloe: Uh-huh. Uh-huh. What a lovely question. The first thing that comes to mind is humor, actually. Anadamaya was a great one for laughing. There's something about transferring to people this understanding that the language of love, which is sourced from silence, is such an immensely joyous thing. That joy is irrepressible once it enters you—or once you remember it. Do you know what I mean? And that seems to activate something, certainly in the belly.

In our work, we focus on the three main power centers: the belly (hara), the heart center, and the pineal gland. I always love to start with people who are still fixated on the outworn idea that they don’t have a voice or that having a voice means being able to sing really well. That’s so not what we’re talking about.

Anandra: Talk a little bit more about that, please, because I think that’s such a common and very damaging idea that people have been given.

Chloe: It is astounding to me that so many people—however rich or poor, successful or unsuccessful—will take you into their confidence and say, after accomplishing something brilliant, Yeah, but I’m still really trying to find my voice.

Then you start to inquire, What does that really mean? What does it mean to find your voice? You soon realize that it has nothing to do with the desire to impress others, to perform, or to entertain. Those things can be fun, of course, but what we're speaking of is the voice that is truly resourced from the source of who you are. And that involves immense grace—a combination of gradual revelation and grace. That’s what Anadamaya used to say. She would say, It is actually a graceful act. When you find yourself really hungry to find your voice, that’s a graceful act.

Then there’s the gradual revelation, where you have to be willing to really fall in love with your situation—who you are, your whole story, the entire spectrum of your neuroses, craziness, and everything in between.

Anandra: I love that. And, you know, you have three diaphragms too, right? The one at the pelvis, the one at the rib cage, and then the one in the throat. If you’re having a full belly laugh, you’re engaging all of your diaphragms.

I hope everyone listening has laughed until they cried at some point in their life because that feeling—it makes you feel alive.

Chloe: Exactly! And you’re actually feeling what you’re feeling.

Anandra: Absolutely that. Hey, feel free to crack a joke anytime!

Chloe: Just even laughter itself—you know, just allowing it. It’s possible. It’s going to be this…

And then, it pretty much starts snorting! Oh, I love that. I remember Philip Helbick—he would start snorting, and it was so touching. You could see how much he was enjoying it. It was just great.

So really, what we’re talking about is activating the full spectrum of human emotion. The voice is the full spectrum of who you are—the full, colorful expression of your being.

That’s why Indian vocal practice and philosophy are so exquisite. You don’t have to modulate or shift keys. You stay with one unchanging note. That is the great beauty.

I think we both play harmoniums, don’t we? In the early days of our teaching, we used to sing just one note for about five days without stopping. Then we’d start moving into the second and third notes. People would begin to realize the direct connection between the musical chakras and their own journey through what we call the musical octave of consciousness, from the root to the crown and back.

In India, it’s called the sapta, the seven steps. That translates into what we call the seven sounds of love. Each musical chakra activates a location of love, a location of consciousness, giving birth to a thousand songs in every chakra—a thousand ways of love within you.

Anandra: Mhmm. Well, yeah. Yeah. So, I guess the key point for me in a lot of what you’ve said is that finding your naked voice requires stepping out of the expectation of performance or pleasing others—exactly—and going into the inner dimension of your own experience with the voice.

Chloe: Beautiful. Absolutely. So, you’re literally sinking through the barrier of the personality voice. And in that process, you have to retrain the egoic mind to understand that it has a new job.

Anandra: Yeah.

Chloe: That job is not to judge, criticize, blame, shame, or play any game whatsoever. Instead, it must become curious, fascinated, and genuinely interested in what’s happening in the moment. That’s a very important piece.

Anandra: And getting there through laughter—brilliant strategy, Chloe. I love that it’s actually part of your pedagogy.

Chloe: It is absolutely a requirement. I’m thinking, Okay, how do I add that to my teacher training manual? Yeah. It’s very good for it—absolutely good for it.

Anandra: All of this, I think, is really fundamental for anyone who wants to use their voice as an instrument of peace. Exactly. If we want to make a tangible contribution to a more peaceful world, discovering our voice, feeling free to listen to it, and sharing it—one would think that’s fundamental.

It’s part of personal development, a necessary stage in realizing one’s potential.

One of the things I’ve been reflecting on a lot these past four or five years, as I’ve been educating myself about the intersection of patriarchy, racism, and colonialist mindsets, is how all of these are interconnected. There’s the dualistic mindset—up and out spirituality versus down and in—and how that contrast plays out.

I’ve really been questioning for myself how much finding and expressing one’s authentic voice is a privilege. I don’t have a definite answer, but I’d love to hear your thoughts.

I mean, I’m a privileged white woman. I’ve had many opportunities. As a woman, my voice is valued less than a man’s in this world, okay—but in most other respects, I check off nearly every box of privilege. I’m cisgender, heterosexual, and I live a life where I have freedom of expression.

So, I’ve been exploring this: Does this journey of finding one’s voice apply in the same way to those who have been historically underprivileged, systematically marginalized, and consistently undervalued? That’s a big topic, but I’d love to hear your perspective.

Chloe: Wow. Well… quite a few things come to mind, both from my own experiences of singing in different places and contexts, and from reflecting on music’s role in various communities.

I’m especially reminded of rhythm and blues, folk songs, and the way music has been a fundamental part of life in villages—how it still is in many indigenous communities. Thank God, in those places, sound is still an integral part of everyday life.

For them, music and sound haven’t become something separate—something to be pursued as a spiritual practice, a therapeutic tool, or a service for others. Instead, it remains woven into life itself.

Anandra: Like air, water, or earth—it’s just natural.

Chloe: It's absolutely integral—as we know—for every human being on this planet, regardless of wealth, status, or challenges. There are people who have come out of immense poverty and incredible life hardships, for whom the voice is their great inspiring, leading force.

Where does that come from? It doesn’t seem to matter whether someone comes from a devastating environment or a poor background. I think about the people who have taught me so much, like the Pig Army up in Northern Montana. I was invited there by one of my Irish students who felt called to work with them and learn from their wisdom and values.

They were under immense duress on the reservation. It made me think—what are we doing? These are beautiful beings—the medicine bundle carriers, Darnell and Smokey. We met in a Kentucky Fried Chicken restaurant, and they looked at me like I was some kind of white, middle-class spiritual shopper. They were highly suspicious, and rightly so.

I was the one with the problem. That’s how we look—that’s the packaging. There’s nothing we can do about it. Yet, we genuinely wanted to learn how to find out who we really are—before the colonial narrative, before all the structural violence that we’ve all had to navigate, whether rich or poor.

So I told them, "I really want to understand your values and how you listen so deeply." They shared amazing stories—like how they navigate with bears to decide who gets to eat the blueberries first. They described their complete unity with nature, their ability to communicate with it.

And then they said, “We can’t share anything with you until we’ve heard your sound.”

I was stunned. That was the deal. They took me into the dark night, driving to their little house. When we arrived, they sat me at the other end of the room and said, “Right. Sing.”

And that was it.

For all the years I had worked in different places—in prisons, in communities across the socio-economic spectrum—telling people, “Don’t think. Sing,” now it was my turn.

Because of the stories they had shared about their connection to nature, I decided to sing a Sanskrit chant. I told them, “I’m going to sing a chant in praise of the Mother of the Universe.” And I sang Ma Pahimam for about five minutes.

This chant is so close to my heart, and I knew it had to be my humble offering in that moment. I had no idea what the outcome would be—I only knew I had to show up as best as I was ordained to do.

When I finished, there was complete silence.

Then, I opened my eyes, and they were right in my face, looking at me like I was some kind of strange scientific specimen. One of them said, “We have no idea... How did you find that?”

I was confused. “Find what?”

They explained, “You just sang a melody and rhythm whose vibration is absolutely identical to one of our secret high-pipe ceremonies.”

We were beyond words. That moment taught me so much about the privilege of sound itself—how sound, when accessed from the absolute ground of our existence, is the most incredible privilege. And it is available anywhere.

I remember a moment in Galway Prison in Ireland when an inmate asked me, “Chloe, can you change a really bad voice?”

I looked at him and said, “John, as far as I understand, there is no ‘good’ or ‘bad’ voice. We are all here together, in this room, in this life.”

The other men encouraged him: “John, give us a song.”

At first, he refused. But then they ran to the other side of the room, grabbed his guitar, and handed it to him.

And he started singing If Tomorrow Never Comes.

It was profound.

I share these stories because when people talk about privilege, they often think of it in terms of wealth or social status. But to me, privilege is something deeper.

No suffering is too great for human song. That’s what I have learned from working in so many diverse places—like up in the Hindu Kush, where people we might describe as “poor” are some of the happiest, most generous people I have ever met. Their connection to sound is unlike anything else.

I was there because my husband was working on earthquake-resistant structures. But what we discovered was that these people weren’t as concerned about that as we were. They just wanted to share their Hunza apricots with us.

Anandra: So, I guess—does this say something? If I paraphrase, tell me if I'm getting this right.

I hear that one of the threads in what you're saying is that the privilege—the way you want to use the word "privilege"—is the privilege to be connected to your authentic sound. I think that's the richness. That's the privilege.

And the other—the societal structures, the social structures of privilege and power—are not what you define as privilege.

Chloe: I define that as pain.

Yeah. This is serious pain. Particularly—I mean, obviously, you and I have been very blessed. We've been very graced in our lives. We have come out of that kind of colonial background, so to speak.

Yeah. Uh, neither you nor I are identified with that, right?

Anandra: No. But I can't help but be aware of the glaring irony that—yeah. You know, I've had similar experiences to yours. There was one with a tribe in Montana where you’re asked to sing something that’s closest to your soul—the most natural, authentic thing for you—and you don’t have anything from your own birth culture that you can draw on.

Right? You don’t have the Celtic, the Druid, the Pagan—that was obliterated a thousand years ago from the culture of your land, where you and your family and your ancestors grew up. So you had to go looking to the country that Britain colonized.

What? You know? Like—holy.

Chloe: Yes.

Anandra: Right? And then—then, you go to India, which Britain colonized. Just for the record, for anyone who didn’t get that history.

And then you go to America, which was another colony of Britain, which took over the Native Indigenous lands. I mean, it’s like—the domino effect—

Chloe: Yeah.

Anandra: Insane.

Chloe: It is insane, isn’t it?

Anandra: It is insane.

Chloe: And I think what’s most insane is how—we’re not yet… I think there’s a chance this could now change. I think there’s a chance it could change.

But if you just buy into what the media is showing us, the egoic mind is still the reality TV for most people. The connection with physical matter—with greed and need—is still very, very dominant. And the whole relationship with power—the love of power as opposed to the power of love, basically.

And it’s so interesting. If you look back over history—was it Gregg Braden? You know, 25,000 years—we've done this. We've come up against this. This is, like, the sixth time now.

Here we are again. Five times, we have gone through the whole self-destruction, collective destruction of the egoic mind. Yet again.

And here we are now. Yeah, I think there’s a chance. Just a small chance—with everything going down as it is—that the human voice can actually offer something the likes of which have never happened before.

And this—I think—is going to—yeah. New science is coming in, in the most extraordinary way. This kind of new mystical language of interconnectedness. We’re in a world of collapsing dimensions between different disciplines, you know?

And they’re all—the ones that are waking up—they're all serving each other, right?

And so, there is an astonishing—albeit under the radar at the moment, perhaps thankfully—an astonishing increase in the number of thousands of people waking up to the impact of these collapsing dimensions.

Scary to the egoic mind, but not to the one that knows there is no death, and there is no birth. So, what’s the big deal?

Anandra: Yeah. First of all, just to back up for a second—I’m not super familiar with the Gregg Braden narrative you’re talking about. So I was kind of—

Chloe: Okay.

Anandra: Like, floating along for the people who do know what that is. I can look it up. But there are some really important threads in this that I’d like to bring together.
You know, the idea of your naked voice being your wealth and your privilege. And again, I’m paraphrasing—I apologize for that.

Chloe: That’s fine.

Anandra: That’s right. And the opportunity to wake up. But I want to highlight what you started with, which was that sound was taking you up and out instead of down and in.

Right. And for me, there's also a real danger right now, in this moment we're in—just for timestamping this interview, it’s July 2, 2020. Or maybe July 3? I think it’s July 3, 2020.

And we're in the middle of a pandemic.

There’s a lot that’s uncertain, and there are probably more people who are deeply afraid than at any one point in time in recent history.

And, in my view, there’s another layer of the virus—which is magical thinking and spiritual bypassing.

And a real, dangerous kind of conspiracy dialogue that’s going on, where "awakening" is a code word for:

"Let’s get out of here. Let’s leave."

Chloe: Yes.

Anandra: Chloe?

Chloe: Yeah.

Anandra: Like, let's enter the fifth dimension, you know? And I feel really concerned about that because that's the opposite of a down-and-in embrace—a real, hands-in-the-dirt, massaging of the possibility of making something new. We can't make something new until the old has composted. So, it makes me want to tie in another element I wanted to speak with you about—trauma.

Chloe: Right.

Anandra: Because we are all traumatized. Very few people on this planet have lived an experience—if anyone has—of embodied wholeness throughout their entire lives. We like to idealize and romanticize that there's some indigenous culture untouched somewhere, but there isn't. There’s no one that has not been touched by the violence of colonialism.

And so, trauma and the voice—for me, the uprising of resilience and the ability to regenerate and grow is deeply connected to the voice. That was a long setup for you to talk about trauma.

Chloe: No problem. Well, it's interesting. Over the last thirty years of working with people and trauma, I’ve really learned how to respect the trauma.

When I first came back from India in 1990 and realized there was no training out there for this, I just started. I put up a notice in my local community hall, asking, "Does anybody want to find their voice?" That was 1990. So, that’s literally thirty years ago.

Anandra: I would have signed up.

Chloe: You must have been there somewhere—we were inspiring it! To my amazement, thirty people showed up. We started these groups on Tuesday mornings.

No one had taught me anything about this, but I knew how singing Indian scales and the power of raga impacted my whole energetic system. So, I spoke from that experience. I thought it would be more of a musical interchange, as I had been taught, but that idea went out the window in the first session.

I asked people, "How do you feel about your voice? How does that sound?" And they would say, "What do you mean?" There was one amazing woman who came—it was the only thing she got out of bed for. The inquiry was simple: "Who is singing? Where is the sound coming from?" Those questions seemed to bypass, in the right direction, their connection with pain, unrest, and nervousness.

We also combined that with another inquiry: "What quality of silence does your voice leave behind?" Suddenly, people weren’t anxious about performing or being heard—they were listening for the quality of silence left behind.

What I started to learn was that trauma is a kind of fierce gift. And I don’t say that lightly. Yesterday, I was working with a woman who had been gang-raped by five men, and she received the radical blessing of it. That is really radical to say, but we are in a time where people are realizing the intense medicine that authentic sound offers us.

We no longer have the luxury of spending thirty years in therapy, unraveling what happened in childhood. Now, it’s about acknowledging the radical event in your life and asking, "How did that sound? What sounds are missing in the body?"

These questions, like homeopathy, allow trauma—whether physical, psychological, or spiritual—to relax once it knows it has been heard. That woman who got out of bed every Tuesday knew she would be heard at a level deeper than mental inquiry. One day, she suddenly released this incredible sound, embodying her struggle, and the whole group was in awe. What we were listening to was the sound, not the story.

Anandra: Yeah.

Chloe: That sound was the fierce gift that her traumatic upbringing had given her. She now leads a Latin American band. Trauma isn’t something to bypass—it’s something to go into, as you were saying.

Anandra: Yes. The crises we go through shape us—literally, shaping our brains and nervous systems into patterns that define our bodies. And that makes us perfect vehicles for helping others with similar experiences, if we choose that path as healers or servants.

Chloe: Exactly. May I share another story about this in a collective environment?

Anandra: Please.

Chloe: A few years ago, His Holiness the Dalai Lama was invited to Northern Ireland for peace talks between the opposing sides—the Protestants and the Catholics. They have a massive wall, ironically called the "Peace Wall," that divides them rather than unites them. Whenever someone from outside comes...

Anandra: You're gonna have to go ahead and slide because—holy moly. The action—you're building walls to create pieces.

Okay. Fair enough. Yeah. Exactly. I'm—I'm—I'm investing. But, yeah, go on. Yeah. Sorry.

Chloe: Well, what happened was I was invited, along with a group of Celtic singers, including Tim Witter with his amazing flute and an incredible dialect singer, Deirdreani from Canada. A group of us was simply there to make music, to hold the music, in this rainy car park because we had to find neutral ground that wasn't threatening to either side.

His Holiness was going to come in with the two opposing religious leaders. He was walking down the peace path, talking to people, embracing them, blessing them—all the way, all the way, all the way. And it took a long time.

Meanwhile, we had the paramilitary within a few feet of us and about 5,000 people around. We heard there was unrest because some Chinese Buddhists were questioning why the Dalai Lama was there. It was just very, very intense.

We were surrounded by security guards. They basically told us, "Just to let you know, once they open the gates between both sides, the children will probably start throwing stones at each other—and they may throw stones at you as well. But we can get you out of here in twenty minutes. So, is that okay?"

Well, we were already there. So, there wasn't even a question. What to do, right?

Tara. Tara is the sacred hill of Ireland. And she's also, as we know, the compassionate goddess. So we thought to ourselves, "Let's sing the Tara mantra."

We sang that mantra like I’ve never heard it before. And I mean we—the big we—because once everyone realized we were singing for the sacred mountain, which is older and deeper than the polarity of all the conflict present, everything calmed down.

His Holiness was taking such a long time. The security guards kept coming and whispering in my ear, "He'll be another twenty minutes, Chloe. Is that okay? Just keep singing."

Okay. Just keep singing.

Anandra: Do I have my water? Where did I get a refill?

Absolutely.

Chloe: So we just sang and sang and sang and sang and sang. And Tara showed up, shall we say? That sacred hill—I will never experience it in the same way again.

And not only did the children not throw stones, but when I opened my eyes, they were right in front of us. People in wheelchairs—victims of the war—everyone was singing.

Singing, singing, singing, singing.

And then finally, the Dalai Lama arrived with the two priests. They both had beards. And—talk about humor—he gets up on stage, and suddenly, it's this almost biblical moment. It's been pouring rain, and suddenly, the sun comes out, the clouds clear.

He’s on the stage, the two leaders beside him. He looks at their beards, and he has the presence of mind to take them and knock them against his head.

It was extraordinary.

What just happened?

They both looked a little surprised, but it was kind of interesting—and kind of friendly.

Anandra: Was he trying to get them to laugh?

Chloe: Oh, it brought the house down! The whole house.

And then His Holiness turned to the crowd and said, "I understand why you might have differences between people of different religions. But when you're the same religion—what is the problem?"

And he just started laughing.

The whole crowd was laughing.

It dismantled everything.

Anandra: Beautiful.

Chloe: It’s just—just an initial memory when you ask me about that, you know?

And how can sound—what you’re doing in India, for example, and in your own profound practice—it’s a real testimony, and a response to your question.

Anandra: Well, I’m so delighted to have had this chance to talk with you.

And, you know, I hope everyone watching enjoys this dialogue as much as we have.

For me, this needs to be an ongoing conversation. I feel like I’m just tapping the surface of how profoundly transformational sound, voice, and mantra can be. Everyone who works with it has a different angle, a different story, different nuances of passion.

It’s all so fascinating—to see, hear, and feel.

So, as a final statement—if I ask you to leave our viewers with one thing they can do right now to make their voice an instrument of peace, what would it be?

Chloe: I would say—fall in love with your breath.

Sound your name.

And listen to the quality of silence your sound leaves behind.

Give more attention to that silence—wherever you are, whether you’re speaking or singing.

Let that be your focus of attention.

Anandra: Beautiful.

Chloe: Thank you so much.

Anandra: Thank you, Chloe.

And thank you to everyone who has joined us.

Chloe: Thank you, Anandra. Every blessing—much love.

 Learn more about Chloe Goodchild awesome work at:  https://www.thenakedvoice.com

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Mantras for Peace: A Wisdom Gathering Online

Many of the world’s indigenous wisdom cultures acknowledge that the unseen sound of prayers keep the delicate fabric of life in harmony.

Learn about ancient and innovative subtle activism practices from thought leaders, teachers, and artists from 6 continents in Mantras for Peace: A Wisdom Gathering Online

👂🏽 From labels to listening

🤝 From divisiveness to deescalation

🤗 From extremism to empathy

💞 From disassociation to deep connection

Featuring radically inspiring and thought-provoking conversations with global thought leaders dedicated to a vibrant future through ancient and innovative subtle activism practices, Mantras for Peace: Wisdom Gathering is an all-volunteer project dedicated to empowering people with peacemaking skills. (Originally aired 2019 & 2021)

Hosted by Anandra George, a pioneer in the transformational personal practice of sound and mantra and founder of the Heart of Sound.

45 profound, provocative, inspiring conversations with a diverse panel of global thought leaders.

Together, let's explore ancient and innovative subtle activism practices for a vibrant future!

Featuring radically inspiring and thought-provoking conversations with

• Neuroscience Educator Dr. Sarah Peyton
• Trauma Informed NVC Facilitator Meenadchi
• Biologist Bruce Lipton, Arhuaco
• Medicine Keeper Biskungwi Marquez
• Futurist Christine Mason
• Sanskrit Scholar Dr. Katy Jane
• Tantra Expert Devi Ward Erickson
• Marketing Queen Mari Smith
• Devotional Musician Punnu Singh Wasu
• Voice Expert Chloe Goodchild
• Yoga Philosophy Teacher Bhavani Maki
• Artist Activist Zena El Khalil
• Sound Medicine Expert Dr. Kulreet Chaudhary
• Peace Activist Michelle Button
• Mantra Researcher Gemma Perry
• Musician Gina Salā
• Wellness Entrepreneur Ayana Dake
• Devotional Singer Radhamadhav Das
• Non-Violent Communication Trainer Jori Manske
• Yoga Misfit Dana Trixie Flynn
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