The writer attended a 9-day sacred sound healing course in Colorado, USA. Some names have been altered. This is part 2 of a series of 3.
It is now Day Six of my sound healing intensive and I am knee-deep in the shit. I have experienced everything that was said on the tin and more: a strengthening of faith and a deepened connection with God. I crawled out of the personal expansion and transformation wormhole and recovered a most precious gift of all — belief. I experienced in one word: Metanoia.
Metanoia ˌmɛtəˈnɔɪə/ nouna transformative change of heart ;
a change in one’s way of life resulting from penitence or spiritual conversion ;
in psychology, the process of experiencing a psychotic “break down” and subsequent, positive psychological re-building or “healing” ;
a turn toward the light.
Belief. When did you stop believing? When did the glint of the excitingly impossible become crushed by grey, burdening and repetitive reality? How did we lose our way from believing in fairy godmothers, talking animals and invisible friends? At what point did we lose our dreams?
First, a recap. Over the past six days, I dipped one toe in and eventually a whole body into the metaphorical sound healing bath of baptism. It was not my plan. It was just what unfolded after days of working with sacred and meditative sounds. Was it the organisers’ intention? At this point, I no longer cared.
Today, I had just spent 12 hours in a sea of tones. We entered a makeshift temple of sound, were anointed with oil, smudged with sage, frankincense and myrrh and had mantras blessed upon us while we joined in voice to a collective soundwave. We invoked spirits, angels and called upon our ancestors. We hummed, sounded vowels as they corresponded to our chakras and sang in harmonic overtones. I was initially hesitant, unsure and unsteady. But I quietened my mind, opened my mouth and found my heart’s vibration — a hum in ‘C’. Wave after wave, throughout the day and unendingly, we chorused in drones. We fasted. We sat amongst and in sacred geometry constructions, feeling energy and being soothed by vibration. All other times, we meditated in silence.
Some cried, others howled, a few weeped as they released what could have been decades of habitual pain. Wrapped in blankets, rocking, swaying, nodding. For me, I spent the day contemplating on the mystery of faith, meditating and ruminating on the heart, and connecting to God within. I ended the day at peace to be both apart from the community, yet together in communion. I believed, more strongly than before.
The reader can imagine that it was not an easy road prior for me to arrive at this point. I believe in one true God. Walking in the Catholic brand of faith, I was, to say the least, several leagues out of my comfort zone among this company of multi-verse living, UFO-sighting, astral projecting, animal communicating, angel channelling psychics, therapists, energy and light workers, healers, empaths and intuitives. There was even a day when a fellow participant asked if he could help me remove a spirit attachment. I had a day of internally freaking out, before politely declining as my own way of severing attachment.
Truth be told, I felt for this medley of seekers. Some had already ascended the scale of spiritual mastery, others not so. Some spelled it out on their business card, others just conveyed it in their radiating aura. We were all here for one reason or another. We were all followers, perhaps even worshippers of sound. Each one of us could, in some way or another, benefit from intentional healing and the power of self-belief — in anything, something. Surely, each one of us has been wounded, in some way or another, by the callous, brutal and quite simply uncaring ways of the world.
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