Like I mentioned in this post, I often work a night shift just before we leave for our yearly Tobago trip. This time around, I scheduled myself off that weekend, so I tried something else instead. Another gong bath. This time, I went by myself.

Why are you telling me about another gong bath? You could rightly ask. After all, I’ve been to two already, and I’ve written about both. I think the reason why I want to write about this one, too, is that they’re all different.

It was a Friday night. My brain was pretty fried after a busy day, and I wasn’t finished packing for our trip. I wasn’t going in clear and relaxed like the last gong bath I attended, but I wasn’t as stressed as the first time. Going alone, there wasn’t any concern about someone else’s experience or what I imagined they were thinking about mine (all my own problems, not the Chaplain’s, who had been going to the gong baths with me till now). While I recognized some of the other people there, none of us actually knew one another.

I set up my doubled up yoga mats, and settled myself in with neck, leg, and low back support so I wouldn’t get too stiff. There were only four of us there that night. The other events I’ve gone to had a dozen to 20 or so participants, so this was particularly intimate. The gongs were set up nearly all the way around us, rather than just on one or two sides. And there were three gong players for the four participants. It felt extravagant.

One of the gong brothers opened by talking about the darkness that characterizes January and February. He talked about conflict and difficulty during that time. And how in February on Valentine’s Day, we turn back to the heart.

I identified with his brief reflection, but I still wasn’t relaxed as the lights dimmed and the gongs started to resonate.

I never did sink all the way in. But unlike my first gong bath, I wasn’t stressed about it. I guessed that like the first time, even if I didn’t feel the effects while I was there, I’d probably wake up feeling clear the next day.

The first time I went, one particular gong created a sensation that the inside of my head was being scraped out. If this sounds unappealing, it didn’t feel great, either. But for those of us with an anxious mind, we can find a way to look forward to such a sensation if it means the worrywart in our minds will go silent for a while. It happened this time as well, and the sensation was even more pervasive than the first time, happening for extended periods during the gong bath, not just once or twice.

As the gong bath comes to a close, they play an instrument that sounds like an accordion or some type of Indian instrument. I haven’t asked what it’s called, but it looks like a wooden box. When it starts to play, it’s often accompanied by bell-like chimes. And some of the participants at the gong bath start to vocalize in harmony.

The last two times, I just listened. I wasn’t really inspired to be part of it, even though I was familiar with the idea from the singing circles we did at my retreat. When a group of people who don’t know each other come together, it’s easier to hum in harmony than to find a song everyone knows or teach them all something new.

This time, I hummed along, too. The person next to me let her arm moved to the side so it was touching mine. I’m a bit fanatical about my personal space. This time, I just checked to make sure my own arm wasn’t encroaching onto her mat (it wasn’t). I assumed she was letting her arm rest against mine on purpose, and I decided to allow it.

When it was over and they turned the lights up, one of the gong brothers looked over at me. “I want you to come over and try the sun gong,” he said. I guess I was close to being in its direct path, and he wanted me to feel what it was like to stand right in front of it while it sounded.

He showed me how to hold the mallet, and I started the rhythmic thumping he’d demonstrated. I stood directly in front of it and let the sound wash over me.

He introduced us to the moon gong, Saturn, the nipple gong (which looks like its namesake), and several others. He showed us the different mallets and other tools for playing the gongs, including a spiral-shaped, rubbery implement that caused the most enormous gong to emit a sound like a whale’s call. I got to play a couple of the gongs with different types of mallets and sticks. (There is a name for the non-mallet implements used to play the gongs, but I can’t remember what it is! I watched one shaggy guy on YouTube start to describe playing the gongs, but after he didn’t reveal the name of the tools, I decided you probably don’t care what they’re called anyway.)

Afterward, one of the gong brothers talked with us about how gong baths can hasten the path to enlightenment, something that takes years otherwise. He pointed out that enlightenment isn’t just a switch you flick by going to a gong bath. It’s a lifelong quest. I mostly just listened, but mentioned that some of us need a glimpse of what we’re working toward in order to know what to look for.

I know enlightenment is a word that can hold a lot of baggage, and it’s been overused. I think of it as being fully connected to our eternal spirits and the Divine. Christians can find this through the practices of mindfulness, prayer, and meditation.

Throughout the whole night, even standing in front of the big gong as it vibrated through me, I still hadn’t felt anything in particular, other than the brain scraping effect. As we were introduced to the different gongs, I was curious, and listened and watched with interest. But the gong bath itself and playing the gongs afterward didn’t mesmerize me or blow my mind.

The next morning I woke up, and I didn’t feel much different. My meditation that morning wasn’t special. It wasn’t characterized by the amazing, floating feeling I had after my last two gong baths. There was something different about my spirit that day, though, and the days that followed.

The 24 hours surrounding a big trip, I can usually enter into a roll-with-the-punches state where I don’t get too ruffled about the inconveniences and frustrations that are inevitable with air travel and travel with kids. While I didn’t any magical mind boost from the gong bath, the next two days, I felt more at ease, like I had a bit more space to react. I wasn’t on a hair trigger.

While I’ve had my moments since then, that spacious feeling has lasted. It doesn’t feel like just a jacket I shrug on for a day, but an invisible cape, if you will. I know I’m not inoculated, but I’ve been grateful for the boost.

Feature photo: I’m on a Wordswag kick. I sent my photo through Percolator using one of their presets, then added the quote using Wordswag. The text is from the latest Mary Poppins movie. Perhaps I’m woefully out of date, or maybe it looks as cool as I think it does.