How a sound bath turned into a reminder that I’m also annoyingly human.
Reclining on my yoga mat this morning, eye covers and warm blankie in place, the opening tone of the sound bowl pervading the space, all was in place for a relaxing 40 minute sound bath. You can likely tell from the tone – or maybe the title gave it away – that this is not quite what happened.
Picture the scene: an experienced teacher; beautiful crystal bowls; clear requests to turn off phones and watches, be mindful of not knocking over water bottles, to shift position quietly; good intentions; a room of 20 or so people who chose to come and enjoy melodious sound and relaxation for 40 minutes … and good old human nature.
Back to the opening tones starting to pervade the space, the promise of remembered deep relaxation. Wait, is that someone rattling the door? It’s locked when the class begins, as per the rather large and clearly visible sign on the door; it’s not the kind of class where you can arrive late to thump across the wooden floor, heave yourself down and get comfy, drop your metal water bottle and whatever else is clanking like that, while the rest of us are trying very hard, through increasingly gritted teeth now, to jolly well relax!
I could go on. Why, one could ask, would you need to sit up and open your water bottle and chug loudly, 30 minutes into the sound bath? Surely it must be possible to wait out those extra 15 minutes.. If you’re that concerned about dehydration, drink more before class. Oh actually, maybe not as then you’re the one who has to leave halfway to pee – and then rattle the door to get out, and back in.
At this point I was still able to maintain the mind of surrendering to reality, and I was tuning out the cacophony of the spinning class next door – they left their double doors open again, so we could all share in the deep bass and shrieking along with them. I even tuned out the gentle snores coming from somewhere to my left. And then … (of course there was a then, which is going to bring us the smelly pot part) that sounds like … surely not! Nope, it is. The shrill tone of a cell phone ringing. This time on my right. Followed, eventually, by a prolonged search for said phone; to turn it off, eventually.
The only choice now was to surrender – to the distinct possibility that I was going to have a loud mental discourse in parallel with the sound bath.
Which went something like this:
A teaching I heard many years ago, and is relevant every single time I hear it again, speaks about ‘the faults of listening’ – in the original context, faults of listening to Dharma, which can apply to any spiritual teaching, or actually many instructions (or requests). In this teaching there are three faults likened to a wonderfully accurate analogy (I think mostly in analogy and metaphor, so I remembered this one particularly well). In short, the faults of listening are likened to a mind that is like an upside down pot, a smelly pot, or a leaky pot.
An upside down pot is when the mind is closed to receiving instruction (or wisdom, in this case), so it may as well not be there at all. A leaky pot absorbs at the time but leaks out what it heard quite rapidly, so again may as well not have been there. And s smelly pot is when nectar (wisdom) is being poured into a pot (mind) that is contaminated by a strong smell or substance that is not so pleasant. I like to think of it as like chocolate mousse being served in a pot that has traces of garlic and chilli in it!
My me was pesky enough to deal with, let alone all the other me’s surrounding me
So back to the room I found myself in: lots of smelly pots, I decided. Good intentions mixed with ‘me, me’. That was never going to go well. When ‘me’ steps into the room, it’s all over.
My me was pesky enough to deal with, let alone all the other me’s surrounding me and the room (and the me’s in the machine area, throwing the heavy weights down, sending shock waves through the wooden floor in here … you know who you are!)
So I had a choice. How smelly was my me going to get? How much annoyance and judgement of typical (selfish) human nature, was going to contaminate the melodious sounds from the crystal bowls?
Well, I’ll admit that annoyance and judgement took some time to subside, especially as I was being considerate, lying quietly and trying not to disturb anyone. Then I did a small stretch, the tiniest foot movement, and to my horror my foot gave off a loud creak. Probably right next to the head of someone lying in the vicinity. And that’s what released the final smelliness.
I had the best intention, even when my own mind was filled with smelly judgements I was trying to let them go and just be present, and then my creaky body levelled the playing field. What did the other person think of the unexpected foot creak? Was she rudely disturbed out of her relaxed state – and getting smelly thoughts as a result?
There were still a few minutes of the sound bath remaining, and while complete non-judgement is still a work in progress, acceptance of reality – including human nature, with all it entails – cleaned up my pot enough to enjoy what remained. And since I don’t want another fault – the leaky pot, I’ve written this down to remind me. Which is just as well, since next week I’ll be back at a sound bath and try to be fragrant throughout!
