Some bowls are made.

These are chosen.

I was thirteen when it happened.

I spent the next decade trying to get back what was taken from me. Through drinking, through numbing, through becoming very good at pretending I was fine.

By twenty-five I was in hospital. Not a dramatic rock bottom. Just a quiet moment where I realised I'd been slowly disappearing for twelve years.

So I stopped.

What came next wasn't linear. I tried things. Some helped. Most didn't. And then someone put me in a room with a crystal bowl playing and something underneath all of it - underneath the thinking, underneath the story I'd been carrying - just let go.

Sound works on the nervous system directly. It bypasses the mind. It doesn't ask you to talk about what happened. It just creates the conditions for your body to feel safe.

For me, that was everything.

A man with a beard sitting on the floor in a room with wooden floors and furniture, surrounded by colorful glass cups, with sunlight coming through a window and a large natural wood art piece on the wall.
A man with a beard sitting on the floor in a room with wooden floors and furniture, surrounded by colorful glass cups, with sunlight coming through a window and a large natural wood art piece on the wall.

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