To my younger self —

The voice, like life itself, is not something to be controlled or mastered—but something to be discovered. It is an unfolding, a continuous flow that can’t be pinned down by labels or expectations. My name is CJ Lorentz, and I’ve come to see that the voice is more than an instrument for performance—it is an expression of who we are, and who we are becoming.

I began my journey with the voice at 12, drawn to music as a way to express what words alone could not. It wasn’t long before I found theatre, where I learned the joy of stepping into new identities, new stories, and new ways of being. But as I’ve grown in my craft, I’ve realized that the true magic isn’t in becoming someone else—it’s in discovering who we are beneath all the roles we play, the identities we cling to, and the stories we tell ourselves. After earning my BFA in Musical Theatre, I moved to Seattle, where I’ve had the privilege of working with companies like Village Theatre (Mamma Mia!, New Works Festival), The 5th Avenue Theatre (Into the Woods, Spring Awakening), and Cascade Voice Academy, where I now teach voice.

Voice, like life, is a paradox. It is both an expression of our uniqueness and a part of something much larger than ourselves. We train it, shape it, and try to control it—yet it is only when we let go of that control that the voice becomes truly free—we forget what it means to simply be with the sound. The real challenge isn’t in finding the right sound; it’s in allowing ourselves to be the sound, to surrender to it without needing to perform, impress, or measure. We often get in our own way, caught in the stories we tell about ourselves—the idea of who we should be, how we should sound, or what we need to do to succeed. The voice, like the self, is a process—a flow, not a static thing. So what if the secret isn’t in doing more, but in doing less? In letting go of the need to control the sound, and instead allowing it to emerge naturally? This is what I invite my students to explore: a voice that is not burdened by expectations, a voice that can simply be.

This is why I call my studio In Your Own Way. It’s a playful reference to Alan Watts’ In My Own Way, but it’s also a gentle reminder that we often get stuck in our own stories—the stories we tell ourselves about who we are, what we can do, and what we think we should be. These stories are the masks we wear, representations we cling to, but not the truth of who we are. And in clinging to these masks, we miss the present moment—we miss life itself. The truth is, the image we create of ourselves is just that: an image, a story, a construct of thought. When we realize this, we can let go of these layers, and become free to be more than the roles we play, more than the stories we tell. The voice, like the self, is a process. It’s not about achieving a specific sound or embodying an ideal version of yourself. It’s about dropping the masks and letting your true voice emerge—unimpeded, free.

I know this firsthand. After the pandemic, I rediscovered my love for writing and creating music—not as a way to impress or perform for others, but as a way to express what was alive within me. The act of creation, I’ve realized, is not about doing something to meet an expectation—it is about being fully present with what is, allowing whatever wants to emerge, emerge. It is about reconnecting with the deepest part of ourselves—the part that is not concerned with doing or achieving, but with being and expressing. And that is what I want to share with you. One day, I hope to open a recording studio where this freedom can take place—a space where we can create without the pressure to get it "right," but simply to create from a place of pure expression.

In the end, the work we do together is not about getting somewhere. It’s not about finding the perfect note, or nailing a performance. It’s about showing up, letting go, and being present with whatever arises. It’s about the joy of discovery, not just of sound, but of self. This is the journey I am still on—learning to surrender, learning to trust, and learning to express what is already there, waiting to be heard.

If you’re curious about this process, if you’re ready to let go of the pressure and find out what’s possible when you stop trying to control everything, I’d love to have you join me. Together, we might just find that the best thing we can do is allow ourselves to be—without the burden of doing, without the weight of expectations.

After all, the voice is not something to be perfected, but something to be found—and maybe, in the process, we’ll find something much more important than we expected: ourselves.