Trying out vibrational sound therapy - to harmonious results [column]

One of my favorite things to do as a musician is to plug my electric guitar in to an amp, turn the reverb up and then play single notes or chords, with my face up close.

If I'm tuned up perfectly, the sound feels just right. However, it's the extra vibration from the amp that makes me feel the music more than just hearing it.

When I was first able to go to concerts again, after the brunt of the COVID-19 pandemic, one of the first things I did was get as close as I could to the big amplifiers and let the vibration course through my entire body.

Recently, I took that sensation to the next level by taking part in a pair of sound vibration sessions with the help of Lori Stahl, a vibrational sound therapist based in Lancaster County.

Stahl is well versed in the concept of vibrational sound therapy, as she studied under John Beaulieu, a major innovator in the field, and is certified by the national Vibrational Sound Association. While close in spirit, this practice is slightly different than the concept of a "sound bath."

"I call it a 'sound immersion meditation,' because a bath means you come and lay there and get bathed in it," Stahl says. "And I want people to feel like they're active in it, like they're immersed in it."

On a recent Sunday morning, I showed up to Stahl's office in Lititz for a one-on-one sound balancing session. I lay on a rectangular doctor's bed, and Stahl first hit a tuning fork against her knee and then waved it near my face. Because the two notes the fork created were C and G notes, they created a harmonious sensation to start. This part of the session is also known as biofield tuning, which is an aspect of vibrational sound therapy that seeks to find the disharmonious aspects of our bodies and psyches and alleviate the stress within.

The tuning forks help set the scene and create calm before the drums come out. I closed my eyes during the tuning fork and no sooner had my relaxation begun to set in than Stahl placed a sound bowl on the upper part of my chest. With a mallet, Stahl hit the drum from different angles, each time creating a type of pang that traveled from the drum to my chest and then all directions of my body. Unlike the harmony from the tuning fork, I would describe the metal drum sound as echoing and discordant, though the sound was less important than the vibration sensation that it was causing.

The peak of the session was when Stahl introduced a second bowl that corresponded with the initial chest bowl. By moving the first bowl to different levels of my chest and then using the second bowl on my legs and arms, Stahl was able to create what felt like a current shooting vividly between the bowls. It was deeply relaxing, especially once I was told to flip over and repeat the bowl process on my back. I didn't fall asleep, but I was probably closer than I anticipated.

"People come off the table, and their faces are brighter, and they're like, 'I feel so light.'" Stahl says. "I feel like it's fascinating work, and it's also intense work. Like, I have had several people only admit to themselves that they were abused during the tuning."

While I didn't leave having recalled past traumas, I did indeed feel still and centered, so much so that it was difficult to jump right into an interview with Stahl.

The next day, I met with Stahl again, this time for a Sound Immersion Meditation with a group at Hempfield Apothetique. With roughly 15 people present, I knew it wouldn't be as intensive as the previous day's balancing session, but I walked in with some of that energy still buzzing inside.

At the meditation, visitors are recommended to lay on a yoga mat and bring a pillow and/or blanket and eye covering for total immersion. While there was some crossover, I would say that sound immersion meditation is the equivalent of an ambient concert with no clapping, while the sound balancing session was almost like being the instrument itself, an extension of the drum that Stahl played on top of me. Using a combination of tuning forks, gongs and ambient drums, Stahl mostly played calming tones from the front of the room.

Perhaps it's my occasional self-consciousness, but the group session had me feeling more aware of my surroundings than the solo session, though I still left feeling relaxed. The best part of the group session coincidentally had the most crossover with the previous day – at the beginning and ending of the session, Stahl walked over to each participant and held a metal drum over, but not on, each person, hitting it once and moving it close to the body so that the vibration could be felt.

Now, every time I set up my electric guitar a little too close to the amp, I will think of these sessions and the feeling that those kinds of vibrations can hold within.

"When people come versus when they leave, it's like looking at a different person," Stahl explains. "I often say, 'Just do me a favor, and on your way out, look in the mirror.' Their eyes are so bright, the tension is out of there. Like, it is such an honor to just hold space for people to find their way to stillness."