How My Tibeten Singing Bowl Lost — and Found — His Voice

Although I have only recently attained official Sound Healer Certifications, I have incorporated sound in my distance and in-person healing for decades. My oldest tool, apart from my own voice, is a handsome Tibetan singing bowl that I obtained over three decades ago. Our meeting is one of my favorite stories about the power of love and respect.

I had been on the lookout for a Tibetan bowl for some time, but I hadn’t met mine yet. One day, I went into a shop that sold crystals, oracle decks, and other tools. When I go into such a place, I stop inside the door and sense around the shop to discern where my intuition is leading me. Since I am mostly blind, I tread carefully in unfamiliar areas. I used my intuitive senses along with my hands and white cane to help me explore safely.

Inner guidance drew me beyond the main area, behind a curtain to a smaller room. I couldn’t believe what my senses told me. A wave of fury coming from items in the center of the room rolled over me. I’d been into the shop and knew the owner to be a good person who curated her offerings with loving care, so this surprised me.

Determined to investigate and help if I could, I followed the anger to discover a number of Tibetan singing bowls. I would have been excited about them if not for the seething emanating from them. Perhaps I could turn things around.

Why are you angry? I asked them in my mind. I moved my hands over the bowls until I hovered over the one that felt most energized to me. I picked him up, rubbed the metal tenderly, and awaited a reply.

The bowl in my hands said, We were taken from our land in a dishonorable way.

He (yes, he is most definitely male) showed me being stolen and passed around, then finally sent for long travels to a strange place. I remember a lifetime as a Tibetan monk and the sacred ritual surrounding the creation of each bowl. Knowing these had been mishandled hurt my soul.

I’m sorry all those things happened to all of you, I said to the bowls in my mind. All I can say is that you are in a place with someone who cares about things being done honorably.

I picked up the mallet next to the bowl and asked him, Will you sing for me?

The shop owner stood beside me, watching, but unaware of my silent mental communion.

She said, “Don’t be upset if you can’t make the bowl sing. Nobody’s been able to. I don’t know what to do with them at this point.”

I shrugged. “We’ll see. I asked him first. He said he would sing for me.”

She took a step back and studied me. I felt her eyes on me and her skepticism. Neither deterred me.

I breathed into the bowl and rubbed my breath into him to unite our energies, then nestled him in my left hand and poised the mallet in my right. Moving in a clockwise direction, I pressed the side of the mallet to the outer edge of the bowl. The vibration tingled my hand before it was audible, and in moments, a resonant chord of several tones graced the room, growing louder and louder as I kept playing.

Tears filled my eyes as all the pent-up rage of the bowls flowed through me, followed by love and forgiveness. The other bowls vibrated on their stands, singing in communion. I’m crying right now as I write about it, even though this happened decades ago.

When the time felt right, I ended by tapping the rim with the mallet once…twice…thrice…and letting the resonance fade to silence.

When I opened my eyes, the shop owner stood by me, her hand over her heart, sobbing. I heard several gasps and only then realized that several people had followed the music. The consciousnesses of each bowl had awakened fully. Each of them psychically touched me with love and gratitude.

“I’ve never witnessed anything like that,” the owner said.

“I’ll be taking this bowl home with me, and I feel I should play the others before I go, just to help them transition.” I explained what the problem had been and told her and our little audience, “These bowls were crafted in a sacred manner and must always be played with honor and respect.”

Two of the people wanted to play one and had never done it. I showed them how to find the one that wanted to play by holding a hand over each singing bowl to see which had a psychic pull, how to rest it in their hand and use the mallet. This is a good way to select any sacred tool. Whether any of the other bowls went home with someone that day or not, I hav no idea. The important thing was to help the imported instruments release their trauma and find their voice.

Since that day, my bowl and I have meditated together, cleared many spaces, participated in healing, led guided meditations, given people space to grieve, and much more. We are a synergistic team working together to promote healing and wholeness.