Beginning Your Song and Entering Life’s Chorus
Sing the first line of your life and walk into the chorus. — Sappho
Hearing Sappho’s Call to Begin
Sappho’s line, “Sing the first line of your life and walk into the chorus,” invites us to treat existence as a song that has yet to be fully composed. Rather than waiting for a perfect moment or a flawless plan, she urges a simple start: just one clear line. From this initial act of self-expression, the rest of life can unfold, verse by verse. In this way, the fragment echoes Sappho’s own practice on Lesbos in the 6th century BC, where personal feeling, once voiced, became the seed of shared performance.
The Power of a First Line
The “first line” symbolizes our earliest conscious choice to speak in our own voice—a decision, a confession, a declaration of desire. Just as a poem’s opening sets tone and direction, the first honest articulation of who we are shapes what follows. Writers from Homer to contemporary memoirists demonstrate how beginnings carry disproportionate weight: the Odyssey’s “Tell me, Muse…” signals an entire journey. Likewise, Sappho suggests that daring to begin, however tentatively, is more important than crafting a perfect, polished introduction.
From Solo Voice to Shared Chorus
Yet the image does not end at a solitary line; it moves into a “chorus.” In ancient Greek lyric poetry, the chorus transformed private emotion into a collective experience, sung with others in ritual and celebration. Sappho’s school of young women, reportedly performing her songs together, illustrates this shift from the individual to the communal. By walking into the chorus, our personal line is answered, harmonized with, and even challenged—turning self-expression into conversation rather than monologue.
Identity as a Song in Motion
Seen this way, identity is not a fixed label but an unfolding melody. The first line does not imprison us; it simply provides a starting motif that can be varied, developed, or even contradicted as time passes. Much like a musical theme in a symphony that appears, disappears, and returns transformed, our early choices and declarations undergo revision through experience. Thus, Sappho’s metaphor allows for growth: we may keep singing, change key, or rewrite verses while still honoring that earliest, courageous note.
Courage, Vulnerability, and Creative Risk
To sing at all, however, requires vulnerability. A lone voice is exposed; it can crack or falter. Sappho herself, known through tantalizing fragments, reminds us that much of human expression survives only in pieces, yet still resonates. By encouraging us to sing and then join the chorus, she proposes a balance between risk and support: we step forward as individuals, then find strength in shared rhythm. This dual movement suggests that a meaningful life is neither pure solitude nor total conformity, but a dance between the two.
Living as an Ongoing Composition
Ultimately, Sappho’s line frames life as an ongoing composition rather than a finished script. We are called to begin where we are, with the voice we currently have, and then keep moving into richer harmonies. Like a chorus that swells over time, our relationships, communities, and commitments add texture to our original line. In continuing to sing—adjusting pitch, learning new songs, listening as much as we speak—we honor the poetic insight that life’s meaning emerges not from silence, but from the courage to begin and to keep joining in.