Owning a sound bowl felt like a pipe dream. One summer I kept going back to a house down the road where a bowl sat, filling it with water and watching the patterns.
Then, at smoko one day back at work, I was introduced to a visitor: "Michael, this is Chrystal." She was a lovely lady from the Netherlands who worked with sound bowls and healing. The next day she came out of a room and said:
"I just had this beautiful vision of you. You're in a park surrounded by kids, and you're playing sound bowls."
I thought she was out of it.
At her course, none of the bowls would fit over my big head of dreads, until she brought out a large one. "I don't know why he sent that one over," she said of the man who makes them. "He never usually sends them that big." It fitted perfectly.
The next night she told me she'd played that bowl and loved it, but her guides kept saying, "It's not for you." Then she saw me. She gifted me three nested, handmade Tibetan bowls: the big one and two that sat inside it. Her message the next morning read: "They're a gift. Someone's noticed your power and your energy."
A few weeks later I took the bowls to a youth group in the park. A father snapped a photo of me playing, surrounded by kids. It was Chrystal's vision exactly, and I sent it to her.
Those bowls came to me just as Honohono did, which is why sound is part of every treatment I give.