Farrell: Gong bath brings on deep relaxation (+ video)

When you tell people you're going to a gong bath on a Tuesday night be prepared for the following responses:

"What's a 'gong bath'?"

"What's a 'BONG bath' hahaha?"

"Um ..."

Yes, I went to a gong bath on Tuesday night. It did not involve a bathtub. There was no water. But I really did feel cleansed from the experience.

Alice Tobin, a certified practitioner of energy medicine and the owner of The Energy Center on Hilton Head Island, has been offering the gong baths almost weekly since November. Since then, she's had about 360 people come through for the hourlong class.

Sound, as she explained to me, is a living tone. And a gong is an ancient instrument that produces a resonating sound said to match the vibration of our bodies. Listening to it can make you feel deeply relaxed. It can heal you.

"The tone of the gong washes you without soap and water," she said. "It procreates. It makes baby tones. It fills the whole room. It packs the room."

To take a gong bath, you typically lie on a mat with a pillow and blanket. Once you're nice and comfortable, you shut your eyes and let the sound take over.

I did this. I let the sound take over. It was wild.

But first, let's talk about Alice.

Alice is from Hong Kong originally. She moved to the States when she was 18, and she talks in lightly accented English. I'm not sure how old she is now, and there's no use guessing. She has the body and glow of a 20 year old.

She is not 20.

She is a retired real estate investor, who has been practicing energy medicine since 2007. She is self-possessed, present and direct. She was sick for much of her childhood. As a result she's always been interested in the healing arts.

"I take better care of myself than most," she said.

Before class, Alice showed me around The Energy Center, a feng-shui spot set among nondescript medical offices near Hilton Head Hospital.

"And these are my babies," she said of her gongs, positioned at the front of a long room.

The centerpiece of the collection is a large gong from Nepal, made of 1,000-year-old singing bowls, pounded out and melded together. When she struck it, I thought about ancient prayers and voices being re-released into the world, confused to find themselves on Hilton Head. I pictured meandering spirits, their faces screwed up in amused confusion.

Most of the other gongs are from China. One is from Germany. She strikes them with a series of mallets, some tough-looking, some fuzzy-looking, some that look like lollipops and fish turners.

Before she strikes, she holds the mallet daintily and lifts one leg slightly, like a small child imitating a baseball pitcher. When she gets going she becomes a-flutter, a dragonfly, focused and beautiful.

When she's done, she's flushed and smiling.

It is her meditation.

"I just totally enjoy playing it."

She started the session by explaining the benefits of sound therapy.

"It does not need directing. It'll react with your cells, with your molecules and relieve what needs to be relieved in this moment."

It can help alleviate pain. Ease allergies. Lessen stress.

Then she told us it was OK to snore.

"No one will notice."

At first the sound was off-putting and ominous. I pictured myself running from terror in a noir picture or finding out the person I trusted most had betrayed me. I saw fire escapes and long hallways. I felt scared and then worried that I was doing it wrong. Should I be feeling this fearful?Of course, I'd be the one person in the whole gong-darned world who sees darkness during a relaxation session.

Soon, though, the intensity gave way to a comforting otherworldliness. Suddenly, I was in space, among stars. Happy to be there and safe. Then I saw my dog and cat rollerblading, little helmets on their heads. Skates on all four paws. Hip-checking each other as they raced around a cavernous rink.

I amused myself with the image. First the cat was in the lead. Then the dog. Then the cat.

Then it was over.

My body twitched and hummed in the silence.

"How does everyone feel?" Alice asked.

It wasn't enough just to nod as a polite signal that I felt great, but it's all I could muster. I felt energized but too stunned to say so.

Everyone shared their stories. They felt refreshed and at peace.

"Does it bring up allergies?" asked Ashana Jones, one of the four other participants, who was sniffling a little. "Because I'm allergic to dogs and cats and when I lay back and closed my eyes I was like 'Is there a dog in here?'"

Alice smiled, but looked confused.

"No," she said, shaking her head.

At least not one without rollerblades on, anyway.

This story was originally published April 9, 2015 at 9:40 AM with the headline "Farrell: Gong bath brings on deep relaxation (+ video)."