Tingling

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 A few weeks ago I bought a singing bowl whilst visiting a Nepalese craft fair. There's a certain skill to inducing a sound but once perfected the effect is a harmonious reverberation that lingers for several minutes. Sitting cross-legged which is never easy with my unstable right knee, the bowl induces a feeling of calm and self-compassion. 

It's another stopping place on my path of discovery in the world of retirement. So much so that two weekends ago I attended a Sound and Meditation workshop which left me tingling with the vibrations for 24 hours afterwards.

Buoyed by the experience, last night I went to a soundbath in a village church some 15 miles away. Lying down in the darkness of the aisle, atop a yoga mat and huddled in layers and a blanket, I closed my eyes and let the oscillations take over. The sound, generated by various singing bowls, bells, rattles and gongs, was complemented by the acoustics of the stone building and I pulsed from within.

Sound baths are recommended as a meditative experience especially for those who otherwise struggle to let go of the busyness of the mind.  It's offered as a way to unwind from the stresses of everyday life (in my case insert "oil") and can potentially offer visionary experiences as you let the sounds work their relaxation magic.

I'm not totally sure that I underwent an out of body episode but there again I definitely wasn't dreaming (I opened my eyes to check) when, lulled into horizontal serenity, I recalled from my geneaolgical research that this was the church my great, great, great, great grandfather was baptised in back in the 18th century. Swept along with the hallucinatory torpor the experience was intense. I heard the water pouring over his head, I saw his mother in her dark dress and white bonnet hold the infant, I heard the church bells ringing and later the jingling of horse reins as the congregation departed.

I guess that, captivated by the sound, my over-active mind switched from its functional ever-processing mode to an elevated imaginary state. To my eye the roof trusses above were quivering as the sound pulsated through me. Could those ancient grandparents ever have imagined that one of their descendants would one day stake a claim to part of the floor on which they stepped so that she could be soothed by the sound of Himalayan bowls?

I'm still not sure what to make of the evening. How can something so powerful also be so calming? Is it addictive and do I return for more, or is my curiosity satiated? Do I recommend the experience to others? Will playing with my own singing bowl now recreate the same effect? Is retirement simply becoming weird?




Comments

Treaders said…
Oh I love those bowls! At the end of our yoga class we always do a relaxation session and then she wakes us up by either "pinging" the bowl or using the wind chimes and I absolutely love both! I did see them at our local "ideal home fair" one year but as they wanted €50 I thought it was a bit much (but realistically, who knows if that was too much). Maybe I'll look out for them in Thailand next year or failing that I'm thinking India the following year!
30 September 2023 at 09:12
Caree Risover said…
Yes, a single bowl is becoming an embedded part of yoga practice where I go too and a whole orchestra of chimes and bowls just takes it to another level.
30 September 2023 at 09:57
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