Anyone who has attended a live musical performance knows how wonderful singing can be when performed on a stage with a powerful sound system and spectacular lighting. It’s showtime, and everyone from cast members to stage crew to the audience is geared up for a grand display of heartfelt, well-rehearsed vocalizing.

But I’m afraid too many of us forget about or underestimate the importance of singing as it exists on the smaller stages of our lives. Especially when we are alone or in the company of someone close to our hearts, singing may just happen, as if it has a mind of its own. We may not intend for it to be there, but we are singing, and music is present.

Singing is what we do when we are cooking, showering, gardening, dressing, walking, waiting, wandering, wondering, or doing anything in our private spaces. It might come in refrains, verses, phrases, or just humming a melody, and it might be loud or soft or whispered. But whatever the package, singing is as natural and healthy as the breathing of good air.

When we are happy or excited, singing comes easily, readily. We might be anticipating something like a new phone or car or bike, and there it is, just flowing out of us. It might be new clothes or jewelry for an upcoming dance or date. It might serve as a battle cry in the locker room, or as a prelude in the car on the way to a concert.

But we do not always sing just because we are inspired or joyful. Singing is a moody and nuanced thing. It is as meditative and mystical as it is physically exhilarating. It might happen when we are afraid, like when we keep looking out the window for someone who should have been here by now. Or when we think we heard a noise outside late at night. It’s said that many men sang their last few breaths in front of the firing squad or sitting in the electric chair!

There are times when singing from the depths of our souls is required of us, especially when we bear the heaviest of burdens. (In a car driving to the veterinarian. Our most faithful companion in the back seat, barely able to lift her head to the window, unaware — maybe — that this is the last ride. Our song is soft, simple, light-hearted. But it is an attempt at distraction, a decoy, a feeble dam which, within the hour, will have been breached, the heavy waters pouring through…)

Of course singing is most powerful and meaningful when we sing together. We sing at weddings and birthday parties and anniversaries to signal new chapters in people’s lives. We sing at funerals to comfort the souls of those who have lost someone, and to reassure them of a greater world beyond this one.

We sing Christmas carols to remember the birth of Christ and to inspire us to be giving and forgiving. We sing at Easter to re-imagine how Christ suffered for us and to rejoice in his resurrection.

Singing does not always have to happen in words. There are other sounds that sing. I know a girl whose laughter is so wonderful that I can only compare it to Mother Nature herself. I know a boy who, when confronted by an unfamiliar word while reading out loud, makes strange and lovely sounds as he wrestles with it phonetically. Another girl, very ambitious, seems to laugh and groan at the same time when she can’t figure something out. Still another girl thinks so intensely I can almost hear the mixed bag of voices inside her head.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that, since singing plays such a big role in our lives, we might as well embrace it and strive to always get better at it. We may not all be great singers, and we may not all have the ardent desire to perform. Yet I believe that if it is a loved one for whom you are singing — a mom or dad or little sibling or special friend, or even your own baby some day — there is no more beautiful voice in the world than yours.

Pete Howard is a Dunkirk resident who teaches English and directs the choir at Northern Chautauqua Catholic School.