I Spent A Year Taking Only Sound Baths And Here’s What Happened

In an effort to preserve water and single-handedly save the entire state of California, I’ve been seeking out alternatives to wasteful aquatic baths. My dear friend Sheila told me about something called “sound baths” at our last solstice circle, and I was eager to hear more. I decided to invite Sheila over for some crabgrass tea and to pick her brain about the sound bath.

She told me that sound baths cleanse you through vibration, harmonize your chakras, and dust off your aura. It sounded like the perfect fit for my new conservation efforts, so I made plans to join Sheila at our local Masonic lodge the following day to take my very first sound bath. I was nervous with anticipation. What if I fell asleep? What if it hurt my ears? Should I have shaved?

The light in the meditation room was dimmed. In the center of the room sat a large frosted glass bowl. Next to the bowl was a wooden dowel about the size of a very thin rolling pin, some bells, and a small gong. Our mats radiated around the center like rays of the sun. An inflatable pillow told us where to lay our heads. Candles and incense (which is basically free deodorant – score!) were lit as the lights were lowered even more and our bath began.

We began with simple humming. The leader of the bath (or “bath mother,” as she asked to be called) began to slowly drag the wooden dowel around the rim of the large bowl, which then made a deep “bwwwaaaaaaa” like the Inception trailer. It truly amazed me how quickly the cleansing began. I immediately felt the mucus in my lungs and sinuses loosen. Next, the bath mother hovered above us, clanking thumb cymbals up and down our bodies. The cymbals awoke and opened up my pores, putting them in the optimal position for purging. The purge comes with the gong, which is hit continuously for five minutes. As the clangs echoed, I felt the dead skin cells and free radicals leap from my skin, leaving baby soft new life in their place. I reached up to rub my face, sending exorcised blackheads flying. To blow away any remaining chemtrails, our bath mother pulled a pan flute out of the leather satchel that hung around her waist and played a melodic, soothing finale. To say I emerged rejuvenated and clean would be an understatement.

It’s now been an entire year since my first sound bath, and I am happy to report that I’ve felt no need to return to traditional bathing. Sure, the toxins pouring out of my body give off a right funk, and I’ve been fired from my job due to “unacceptable hygiene,” but every lifestyle change brings bumps in the road.

Some tips: I do find that the less I exert myself, the longer I can make the clean feeling last. I sneak some leftover incense out of the lodge as often as possible, and I’ve found that burning one in a small enclosed place covers up any stale, lingering scents you may encounter along your journey. It’s recommended that sound-bathers indulge twice a month, but feel free to go longer if you feel up to it. No one can tell you what to do with your body, not even Ken from HR. Finally, if you can’t find a sound bath near you, ask your local DJ to make a bass-heavy mix for you. Studies show the results are nearly identical if said mix is played at full volume.