The grey unmarked door of the STTA: coach house opened from the laneway into a tall, luminous white room buzzing with the chatter of participants navigating green cushions and new neighbours. In the middle of this space lay an array of mallets, neatly arranged on a carpet in front of a large gong. Artist Naoco Wowsugi sat on the floor in front of her instrument. I found a spot to her left and got settled.

Naoco talked to us briefly and openly about her relationship with the gong, its ability to heal, and the importance of our hydration with the umami water she had prepared and distributed to us. Through brief introductions, I quickly become acquainted with the 28 strangers seated on cushions all around me, drinking umami water together before lying side-by-side, and head-to-head. We were then guided through a kind of meditation in order to truly engage with the space, our bodies, the temperature, the floor, the silence - what Naoco called getting primed to receive the gong. With that, the lights were dimmed and the sound and vibration followed. 

My experience of the gong healing bath took many different forms. The silence at times felt full, and the sound at times felt empty. Though my journey was internal and private, I could sense the other bodies shifting positions, and a communal comfort and discomfort. The palpable presence of others in this collective experience was comforting as I found myself in a multi-sensorial realm that was loud, tight, dark, and cold. I had fallen into it; and while heavy, it bore a distant light. 

By the time the final “radio silence” came, it felt like the foot on my chest had been removed; like I was sun-worshipping in a space now far more open. The emptiness was full of light. We sat here together in silence for some time before slowly being invited to return to the space, the floor, our neighbours, our green cushions, and Naoco. 

We reflected together, sometimes aloud, but also silently. I initially had some difficulty finding the language to articulate this non-verbal experience. However, the other participants - my neighbours in this journey – seemed to offer a description of their experience that mirrored my own. They vocalised repeated references to light, vibrations, visions, temperature, travel, and portals. Some spoke of fear, and others of euphoria. This collectivity made our breath and heartbeat feel shared, and engendered a sense of candidness, honesty, and comfort. Each person in the room had become a fellow traveller. 

The workshop concluded with an invitation to write a post card to ourselves, reflecting on our experience. We were told that our future selves would receive the postcard in the mail. I have yet to receive mine, and I am unsure of what I have written. Weight, light, breath. I didn’t have many words just yet. I look forward to reading it, another portal, back.