There was a time—years ago—when I was attending a group healing session, lying peacefully on my mat, ready to open myself to deep restoration. The lights were low, the music was ethereal, the facilitator’s voice soft and soothing… and then reality struck. My nostrils flared in disgust, my eyes bulged with alertness, I was no longer Zen’ed out. Someone’s feet—bare, releasing a death grip and unapologetically present—were just inches from my head. To make matters worse, their s

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The mystics of old felt that the Sacred Gong was the incarnated embodiment of a high creative intelligence. In human form this would be...

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