Sunday, May 10, 2015

A full moon gong journey


Description:
Take a sweet reprieve from ordinary moments and let yourself rest in the tones and overtones of the cosmos. Join Visudha, Master Sound Alchemist for an incredible sound energy alignment where in the tones and overtones of the gong take you into alpha and theta brain wave frequencies. These states of being allow deep meditation, relaxation and opportunities for physical, emotional and spiritual healing. You will come away relaxed, renewed and with a greater state of inner harmony.

Full Moons function as a powerful time that can facilitate pivotol change, and help us to see where we are coming from and where we need to go. Use this Scorpio Full Moon with the Sun in Taurus to release long standing patterns, and to bring yourself into fuller expression. Bring mat, blankets and pillows for your listening comfort.
 
 
Despite the clear description, I wasn't sure what to expect.  M and I had a date:  after my concert in Dixon, I'd stop by her temporary home for dinner and then we'd go to her yoga place for the Full Moon Gong Journey.
 
I noticed that this is Scorpio full moon, a time to release patterns.  I'd like that.  On her recent visit, C had already told me that I had Saturn return in Scorpio.  She was vague as to what that meant, but was clear that it will be a powerful time for me.  Maybe it's a good time to regroup and start something new?  Maybe it's a time to prepare for intensity:  get well grounded in a practise like meditation, yoga, walking, stretching, tai chi chih.  I got the impression that my health would be easily compromised if I didn't make such preparations.  However, it wasn't a real reading.  We were sitting at the Alley Cantina.  She was drinking beer, I was drinking Campari and soda.  We were chatting up the bartender and talking about C's Taos of 7 years ago and all the changes in our lives.  She had an astrology chart app on her phone, so I gave her my birth date and place, but was fuzzy about the time:  we settled for 10 am, but of course the time makes a HUGE difference. My twin and I were born 6 minutes apart and that's a whole degree!  And Lord knows our lives are very different.
 
Anyway, she wandered through the various houses depicted on her app, asking me questions ("Do you tend to be defensive?") and saying things like "Oh my, Scorpio in the 11th house," in a voice fraught with ominous meaning.  Apparently, it's lucky that my moon is not in Gemini.  I can't recall what it is, Aquarius maybe, another air sign, but it means I'm grounded, not a chaotic two-faced creature.
 
I haven't decided what I think about these things, but I know that I am influenced by natural phenomena and that, when I look carefully, in retrospect, I can see patterns.  Quantum physics would say you can't predict the future based on the past, but I do think there is a pattern there, even if we can't see it.
 
So, I'd been thinking about this reading and wondering if my current pattern of daily photo-journaling and walking on the mesa was sufficient preparation for a rather scary Saturn return. The gong journey seemed like a good place to think about that.  I like to focus my meditation on something.  Usually I do a walking meditation, like the labyrinth.  It gives my mind a focus, and it draws my body into the event and keeps me from feeling twitchy.  But paying attention to a sound is also good.
 
The evening started out pleasantly, with M and I sitting on the upper deck, eating risotto and drinking a citrusy pinot grigio.  We talked, as usual, of projects and life and the beauties around us.  The raucous crows, wheeling above the field, caught our attention.  Time passed, and we realized we did not have time to walk to the studio, which is on LeDoux near my home.  And, I wanted to get some cash, as yoga studios don't usually accept Visa.  So, we drove to my place and walked over.
 
It's a long room, with tall plants and shelving at the head, separating the yoga space from the entry area with its desk, supply shelves, hooks and cubbyholes.  The floors were polished bare wood, and the vigas were clearly modern, being smoothly-planed and regularly spaced.  Soft adobe-sided windows lined both sides of the room, with enough space between to permit legs up the wall and an outlet, but not much more.  One side of the room looked onto the courtyard, and the other into lightly-leafed trees, which lined an acequia and hid other buildings from sight.
 
We took off shoes and left them in the cubby holes by the doors.  We had arrived early enough create a second row of matts, closest to the gongs.  There were several gongs of varying sizes, lined up at the head of the room by the plants.  The largest was at least 6 ft in diameter:  taller than I at any rate. 
 
The practitioner was a tiny woman, in a floaty white dress, which accentuated her deep brown tan and long dark hair.  She seemed elfin, but her voice was both deep and resonant, though soothingly soft.  She greeted many people by name, walking between matts and mixing directions and information with more personal chat.  M and I followed the example of the regulars, setting up our matts lengthwise,  with the head at the gong.  We had neck pillows and leg pillows.  We could not keep water by us, because Visudha and her assistants would be walking between the rows and aisles.  The women in the first row were seated facing the gongs on large firm pillows at the end of the matt furthest from the gong, but the two young but balding men next to us were setting up their pillows at a slant, perched on blocks, with heads towards the gongs and feet stretching away.
 
It turned out that was the proper position:  the vibrations of the gongs were to travel through our bodies, from head to toe.
 
The room quickly filled up.  I lay quietly on my back, eyes closed, listening to people talking.  I had put my glasses and my labradorite ring under a smaller gong, to absorb vibrations too.  This meant that I couldn't see anyone, but there seemed to be a nice mix of age and sex, and not too many dreadlocks.  The lights were turned off, but one in the middle remained on, spotlighting one young man.  The studio employees flipped switches:  "No Greg is still spotlighted."  "Now the other lights are on."  "You'd think after all this time we'd know what the switches do."  But it was all calmly said, and meanwhile she talked of the gongs, their different properties, their names, all of which I've forgotten.  The assistants came through with lavendar eye pillows, and then Visudha came through with a tiny bell, ringing it over each supine form.  I could hear it getting louder as she approached, and then it was filling my ears, then passing by.  A pause, and the deep vibration of the largest gong filled the air.
 
And that's where memory fails me.  I lay, feeling the sound, hearing the sound, hearing it as an oceanlike roaring, patternless, yet full of pattern.  It grew loud, it fell back, it pulsed, it rang.  Other notes joined, fell away.  I thought of nothing.  The sound was physical, laying across my chest, holding me down.  My breathing was labored, but I wasn't scared.  With an effort, I moved my legs into a open yoga pose.  I changed the neck pillow.  My temples pulsed with pain....was it the wine?  dehydration?  I didn't think so.  The gongs' vibrations were in me and around me, trying to open...something....but something resisted being opened.  It had been going on forever, and then it stopped.
 
Some people spoke of flying, of visions.  M felt opened at a cellular level.  Visudha reminded us to be kind to ourselves, to not drive if we felt disoriented, to drink lots of water, to expect physical reactions.
 
She brought us dark chocolate, to help ground us.  I nibbled at it:  it was strong, earthy, quintessential.  I usually prefer milk chocolate, with caramel, but this was a different thing altogether:  it wasn't about an almost cloying sweetness.  It wasn't dessert, it wasn't indulgence.  It was vitality.  It was like drinking water after walking in the desert. 
 
We slowly put away our matts, cushions, blankets, and blocks.  We drank deeply.  I watched Visudha as she rubbed her neck and talked with another woman about muscular aches.  Her long hair had thin lines of gray in the black, her face was more lined, older than her dress and her voice had led me to believe.  I wondered:  how could someone with that power need a massage?  It's always disorienting to see a minister, of whatever faith or practise, exhibit his or her humanity.  But, as Liz Gilbert said, you are just a vehicle for your genius, which can be amazing, or lame.  You are not the genius itself.
 
M and I walked out into the cool night air.  The moon shone through clouds.  We looked at each other, and I said, "I can't drive you home."  She said, "I don't think you should."  We hugged and parted, and I walked home, my face lifted up to the moon.
 
And when I got home, I discovered I had a sore throat.
 

The gongs' vibrations
Leave me disoriented
But in a good way.

 

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