06/09/2026
After years of holding sound sessions, I’ve learned not to assume what is happening inside someone based on what I can see.
Sometimes it’s obvious:
a softened face, relaxed body, calm breathing, complete stillness.
Sometimes you can see that something else is happening.
A body that keeps shifting.
A clenched fist.
Tension in the face.
Difficulty settling down.
Restlessness.
And sometimes you simply have no idea.
There is no expression to read. No obvious movement. Nothing that tells you what is happening beneath the surface.
And then there are the people who share afterwards. They might tell you about something emotional that came up, a memory, a sense of deep relaxation, irritation, sadness, or something they can’t quite put into words.
And there are also people who quietly leave before the session is over.
All of these experiences are possible.
Sound can be deeply relaxing for one person and confronting for another.
Someone might feel peaceful. Someone else might feel sad, angry, restless, irritated or simply think, “This is not for me.”
And I think this is an important part of being a sound practitioner:
We have to make space for all of it.
Not just the beautiful, meditative, deeply relaxed moments.
The difficult moments too.
There is no particular state someone should reach during a sound bath. No correct way to respond.
My role is not to decide what someone’s experience should look like, or to push them towards relaxation.
It is to hold the space, stay present, and allow people to have their own experience with the sound.
Because sometimes the most important part of a session isn't how peaceful it looks from the outside.
It’s what a person is quietly experiencing on the inside.
