This story isn’t that deep, because maybe I’m not that deep. Nope, not true. I’m as deep as I need to be; I’m not going to judge myself. Maybe that’s really what my sound bath experience helped me to learn. I’ll let you decide.
I work hard—really hard. I think I’ve just been wired that way. While I definitely recognize the importance of a work/life balance and extoll the values of it to my clients, I often fail to find that balance itself. I make Type A people seem like procrastinators. I’m a perfectionist. I’m also a joiner. I’ll try anything (within reason) at least once.
About a year ago I decided that I would use the “joy of learning” part of my personality as a way to conquer the “I thrive on being overscheduled” part of my personality and set off on a bit of a self-care binge. I figured that I couldn’t just spout self-care ideas to my clients without having one of my own. The trick though was to find one that would both hold my interest and have some sort of well-being benefit.
I’ve tried cycling, but it often results in me walking around like I just got off a horse for a few days after the class. I’ve painted rocks, which often holds my attention for a while. However, there are just so many rock animals that your friends will accept from you as presents.
I’ve tried book clubs, but for some reason all of the ones in my neighbourhood are held in actual libraries. This is a bummer, because the hushed tones and the lack of wine make them a lot less exciting than the raucous boozy book clubs I’ve seen on social media.
Getting comfortable for the sound bath
A few months ago, I received an email about a practitioner who was visiting a local Yoga studio to do a sound bath. Now, I’ve never really had much success with meditation (a ‘me’ issue, I know). I frequently give up on the free 30-day Calm meditation app challenge two days in, but something about the sound bath intrigued me. I love live music. I could use a serene experience, and from what I’d seen, it seemed to be trending. So I signed up.
We were emailed in advance to bring plenty of water so that we wouldn’t get dehydrated during the sound bath and to wear multiple layers so that as our body temperatures shifted, we’d be prepared. I’m not a Fabletics subscriber, so my outfit consisted of a short-sleeved shirt covered by a long-sleeved shirt that was covered by a hoodie. I looked more like I was going on a ski trip than to a Yoga studio. I also figured that one bottle of Poland Spring would be enough, because I’d just be lying there, not running a marathon.
After walking into the studio, I immediately felt really self-conscious. Everyone was in their best colour-co-ordinated workout fits, holding gallon-sized vats of water. Everyone also had their own Yoga mats. I think the studio owner must have sensed how out of place I was (or looked), because she immediately ushered me to the cubby space to borrow a studio mat and get what I think was a grey scratchy airline blanket from the early ’90s in the event I got cold during my experience.
We were instructed to put our phones away, so at approximately some time o’clock, I sat criss-cross applesauce on my borrowed Yoga mat waiting to begin.
We were instructed to lie down in a comfortable position on the mats and close our eyes. Maybe it’s me, but there is just no way to get comfortable on a hardwood floor with a quarter-inch thick piece of rubber underneath you. I tried to ball up my blanket to put it under my lower back, but it just felt like I had shoved a wad of scrubbing pads under myself.
After shifting my weight around for a bit, I found a position that hurt less than the others. Yes, that was the benchmark for which I was now aiming. Comfort just wasn’t going to happen.
A series of sounds was played
The sound bath practitioner began by playing a series of sounds. Some were chimes and some were gongs. They all occurred in series, at times in short succession, and during others, one loud sound reverberated with a healthy space left before the next one.
Truthfully, it brought me back to being in temple as a child, listening to the rabbi sound the shofar. Similar to that time, I noticed that I was squirmy and wondered when this would be over. I instinctively looked at my wrist, but realized that I wasn’t wearing a watch. This shouldn’t have been all that surprising, as I pretty much stopped consistently wearing watches with the advent of the cell phone.
It brought me back to being in temple as a child, listening to the rabbi sound the shofar.
My skin got prickly, and I felt a lump in my throat. How long had it been since we started? Was this ever going to end? When did I need to dip into my water supply? Was this the dehydration that they warned us about?
My anxiety made me feel hot, or maybe it was the sound bowls, I really don’t know. I squinted one eye slightly open to be sure that the person leading this whole shebang didn’t see me looking around.
Once I saw that the coast was clear, I opened both eyes to survey the situation. Sweet gift from the gods! There was a glow emanating from the woman next to me. No, this wasn’t some sort of religious experience. It was the glow of an iPhone, and it was in my sight. The fact that it was still glowing gave me some relief as I realized that she must have recently tapped it to check the time herself.
Then I deflated. It was six minutes after the hour. What felt like an eternity was probably the initial easing-in period to my sound bath experience. There was no way I’d make it until the end. This self-care task was going to destroy me.
I closed my eyes, but this time I felt my thoughts racing and heard my heart beating in my ears. The thumping was so loud it almost drowned out the bowls. I was going to get up and leave. I would run out to my car without saying anything and never show my face in the vicinity of this studio again. It would be fine since no one knew me, so I’d just be that person who couldn’t hang at the sound bath.
Tsss. Was that a cymbal? Tsss. Did we just welcome a jazz ensemble? It sounded like the teacher was walking around crashing symbols as the source of the sound began to move. Wind chimes? Above my head? Hmm, interesting. Yup, there’s that gong again. I realized after a few minutes that I was listening to the sounds and no longer focusing on the pulsing of my heart.
My thoughts were still popping into the forefront of my mind, but they weren’t racing in quite the same way as they had been earlier. Rather than judging myself for having them, I simply gave myself permission to just let the thoughts be. It seemed like once I stopped fighting the tendency to get in my head, the hold my thoughts had on me released. It was different, nice, almost serene.
A pause for reflection
At some point, the sound bath ended. I know we were scheduled for 90 minutes, but that included check-in, introduction and the setting up of the mats. I couldn’t really tell you how long the sound part lasted. Maybe that’s a good thing?
We were instructed by the calm, almost melodic voice of the instructor to open our eyes and take our time in reorienting to the space while we sat up. People began excitedly talking about their higher vibrations and how they would need to rest after such an experience. Rest? From the maybe one-hour plus of resting? Seriously?
I immediately felt defensiveness bubble up inside of me. This wasn’t my experience at all! How could they have such feelings? What’s wrong with me? Then I took a moment to pause and release myself from my self-judgment.
I took this time for myself. While challenging, I stuck with it. While different from anything I have previously engaged in, I tried my best to embrace it. While I anticipated it would be easy, it wasn’t. Maybe that pause for reflection was the learning and self-care experience that I needed all along.
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image 1: Hans; image 2: Arina Krasnikova; image 3: Pexels