I grew up with Gongs.
Aboriginal Gongs, to be exact.
Long, elaborate explorations of story through music.
True evidence of using sound, music, and chants to heal the sick dates back thousands of years to ancient Egyptians and Australia’s Aborigines.
Well, sound therapy is having a comeback.
Sounds from a Gong or Tibetan singing bowls in particular hit home for me, and hard.
I go somewhere.
I feel tectonic shifts inside.
Blood flows in sync with the ups and downs, lights and darks of sound.
I feel my heart.
I feel giddy, I cry, I sleep, I dream.
The experience is always revolutionary, it is exhilarating.
Now there are more sound healers and sound spaces than you can shake a stick at.
Now it’s normal to lie on the floor, wrap yourself up like a burrito and allow instruments to do their thang. It’s the new norm.
I experienced one the other night. Man, it felt like such a quintessential LA thing to do!
Since our organs, tissues, cells, etc all vibrate at various frequencies of sound, using sound to heal and relieve stress makes great sense. And it did for me.
Memories came flooding back: I stopped and looked back at my life in flashes –I thought about my dad’s last few days on Earth, I thought of playing in mounds of autumn leaves with my brother, the smell of chicken soup from my Aunt Carmen in Chile, my sister’s laughter; I thought of late night walks to the supermarket with sister and mother in tow, huddled in oversized winter jackets, talking about nothing and laughing about everything. I thought of all the ingredients and influencers that have made ME.
It’s a powerful thing to stop. To live this moment (because music only exists in the Now) and release the hold so that something bigger submerges us.