MOON Gong Musings
Moon Gong Musings.
With her strong but soft voice she bid us to be comfortable for what was about to transpire. An easy laugh accompanying instructions engendered trust. We all allowed her in.
After lying down my breathing settled to a regular rhythm as I relaxed. Closing my eyes enabled awareness of the room and the people in it to be slowly left behind. Settling into the darkness a peacefulness descended over me. The ground on which I lay began to rise and ascend up up to a higher place.
The rattles quietly started off in the distance. A woody shaken scratchy clattering of the Earth chasing out idle spirits and lurky old presences, frightened away by the rattling bones of the ancestors disrupting their calm.
A reverberant bell tone rang pure through the cleared space. Then a Tibetan bowl and its multiple frequencies called my scattered self into focus exactly on an in breath, I paused, to be cognisant of the moment, then the exhalation expelled the stale self without any forethought, creating space for the fresh new oxygen to be inhaled, vibrating with the bowl's tones.
Fluctuating throbbing tones of the roarer spiralled away, creating a vortex spreading outwards as I expanded to follow the space created. I was on the way. Delicate descending trilling chimes announced a place to move towards. That place above the surface where clarity is.
A heart-beat drum set an even slower pace for longer breaths. Two drums, two tones, but one singularity. It throbbed and pulsed at base chakra frequency, that fundamental resonance from which we emanate. I wanted to follow it down, but, an occult drone called me higher. Did she know, did she intuit that she was the tone that sent those attuned or unwary into that space of beginnings. Into that space from where we go.
As if the moon had emerged from behind the clouds the Light fell on me. With the chimes and bells there were now twin resonating quartz tones, both in parallel, but one a step higher than the other, which combined to propel me further out.
Outside I could hear that rain was falling, a bird was singing, inside here in the room tonal resonances of esoteric hertz had me hovering in paradise as she did what was needed to be done for us all, for anyone, for everyone. Her cosmic soul channelled our transcendence.
A gong struck. I shuddered as all my molecules vibrated in harmony with that sound from the Gods. I continued to shudder as I somehow shimmered in space. I was now beyond the room. Not sure where. Did it matter. There was only the trust in where she had enabled us to reach. We all innately trusted where she had sent us. Not that she mentally knew where it was. Her own altered state relied on her own inner guide to do what was for the good of all.
A soft flute was ethereal, calling to us, beckoning. Another woody sort of tone, like drum and rattles, to indicate which way to go. The didge joined in, coming from a long way back to send us further ahead. As if in disobedience, a ringing hand bell implied the opposite. A star on a dark night.
To follow or to wait. Between reed and brass I paused my progress and inhaled slowly as in the distance chant and drum went round the circle, the bold energy of the call echoed by a softer fragile wisdom whispering deep knowing in my ear.
A distant beating gong drew nearer as it became louder, lifting me higher with each gentle boom, getting ever closer, building into waves of crescendo, waves of transcendence, invariably bursting over me orgasmically and lifting me out of my body to be where i needed to be. To be where why I came here on Earth. And allow her to take me where. That oceanic place.
And so it was on this full-moon night that I met the Priestess.. She who serves her mistress the Moon Goddess. The unstated priestess who was a Sound Angel, who in ritual ceremonial dedication performed an audio-phonic experience based on the gongs vibratory interaction with our aetheric selves.
A quite large gong. One tuned to the same frequency of the moon itself. Which was in concert with many other metal-based instruments each with a specific frequency relevant to our physical and spiritual selves. Tibetan singing bowls, big solid hand-bells, chimes, clusters of tiny tinkling delicate bells, xylophones tuned to the Fibonacci series, even a smaller gong tuned to a diminished 'A' I think.
This powerful celestial harmony enabled us to meet the moon, be overwhelmed, enraptured, transported. With eyes closed lain in surrender focussed on our breathing a glissando of exquisite tones attuned us to our purpose. Ascending riffs of other-worldly timbre re-aligned our chakra points as the throbbing fluctuating temple bowl cleared a space for compassion to emerge. Ages passed when a firm steady beat on the gong announced another beginning. The rhythm quickened and intensified. Became louder and more overwhelming. Rippling explosions of sound washing over us, effecting change at a molecular level as even our very neutrinos could not ignore the instruction to fundamentally realign ourselves in tune with lunar mysteries.
I moved inside myself to expand beyond. I met myself so I could depart. Hovering in space this priestess of the moon took me to places beyond this humble little planet. Shuddering with the intensity, legs and arms trembling, for once I was again alive. As she switched tempo, switched between sounds, from bold and strong to delicate and light, criss-crossing rhythms in allegiance with her own sacred geometry. A structure not of intent and planning but of intuition and feel, being a response both from the participants in the room as much from her own inner urges driving her on.
And driven she was. Wild and bestial . . . yet . . . composed and holy. Out of control whilst perfectly serene. She after all offered us the opportunity of an encounter with the Goddess just as much as she wished such mystical encounter herself. And there was an ancient energy manifest in the room for all to share, each in their own way with congruence to their own beliefs, travelling to a common meeting point on waves of sound.. Each person hearing what they heard differently, individually, each person in their meditative reality finding their own personal truths.
Renee was the Truth-sayer who spoke no words. Was more honest than those who do speak. Her energetic self and devotion to vibratory sound imparted the message if we wanted to listen. On one level she destroyed us to create new life, perhaps even she experiencing a loss of self; so profound was her intent to give the event meaning. She shape-shifted from the everyday loveliness of a mum who hugged easily and honestly, a person devoid of pretentiousness [or even the esoteric ostentation one can encounter], to become transformation itself, humbly enabling our personal transcendence to new places where we should be far far more often.
Ok the reality is that as a consequence I end up laid low on the floor exhausted, looking like some marathon runner on their back in the middle of the road. Sure its not pretty. Nor does it look like a holy experience. But for me in these post-modern times when churches and temples are places for suspicion, and texts or beliefs are in need of serious deconstruction, this is the new evolutionary now.
Although, I have a sense it is an occult place we have all been to before, in this life if not others, for as long as the Moon has been spiralling around Mother Earth. My luck is to have been led to Cairns to watch the moon swallow the sun on the day the lunar feminine eclipsed the solar masculine. And then to be led to the Moon gong and pathways way beyond this fair city.
Renee, I thank you.
You must have been sent to Earth to enable us to leave.