Sunday Sound Bath

About Sunday Sound Bath

You arrive carrying the static of the day: thoughts looping, muscles holding quiet conversations with stress. Then the first tone lands, soft, spacious, almost like it’s been waiting for you. Crystal bowls begin to sing, low gongs hum like distant thunder, and delicate chimes flicker through the air like light catching water. The room transforms. Sound is no longer around you; it moves through you. Each vibration feels like a gentle unravelling. The body loosens its grip, the breath deepens without being told, and the mind, usually so eager to narrate, softens into something quieter, more spacious. There is no effort here, no performance, no need to “do it right.” You simply float. Time becomes a strange, fluid thing. Minutes stretch, dissolve, disappear. You might drift through memories, colours, or sensations that have no name. Or you might rest in a rare, uninterrupted stillness—the kind that feels both empty and full at once. By the end, the sounds fade not abruptly but like a horizon slowly dimming. Silence returns, but it feels different now, soft, held, almost luminous. You rise gently, as if resurfacing, carrying with you a sense of calm that hums quietly beneath everything. A sound bath is not just heard. It is absorbed, like rain into dry earth.