In one holiday guest house in, I think, Lytham St Annes, a gong was struck for dinner time. The respite from cooking must have been bliss for my working mum. For me, the dinner gong seemed like the most sophisticated thing in the world, in a Margo and Jerry Leadbetter way. That gong summoned seventies delicacies like tinned peaches and evaporated milk. Apart from J Arthur Rank's contribution to gong awareness, my real life experience of gongs is limited.
Spool forward, and last night I was immersed in a gong bath. I know! A gift from a thoughtful partner and something I would not have tried unprompted.
A gong bath, should you need reminding, is an immersion in sound. Mine followed a brief yoga practice to loosen us up and get us ready to rest under blankets and in jumpers.
I arrived just on time. The smell was not tinned peaches, but sandalwood oil and pine. The softly lit room was warm and inviting. Except. The yoga mats were snuggly aligned on the floor. There was barely four inches between each one. A regimented two rows of eight. Too close to strangers.
I worried I would fall asleep and that the four inch buffer would not be enough to protect my stranger neighbour from my snores. I worried I would bump or bash my neighbour. I need not have been concerned. Those four inches did not just dissolve. They expanded. As I lay with my eye mask and handknitted slippers keeping me dark and warm, the vibrations from the gongs swept my mat away, adrift from any neighbours. My mat had become a magic carpet and I floated off in my own limitless space.
There were several gongs and chimes, but lying down and breathing, I couldn't tell you where one gong or sound began or ended. Instead, I floated along with the sound and vibration resting deeply. There's lot of explanation of the theory and history, but this is something to feel.
At concerts, I like feeling sound vibrate in my body, usually if I am too close to the speaker. That, though, is to the detriment of my ears. The gong sounds were unusual, soothing and sometimes atonal. But I had the best sleep this year when I came home.
Thank you for the sounds Jo.
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