Listening Without Expectations: Letting Sound Be Sound
There is something I want people to understand about my work as a Sound Alchemist.
Sometimes sound can simply be sound.
It does not have to heal something.
It does not have to release trauma.
It does not have to create an emotional breakthrough.
It does not have to change your mood, alter your state of consciousness, or bring you into some extraordinary spiritual experience.
Sometimes a gong is simply a gong.
A Tibetan singing bowl is simply a Tibetan singing bowl.
A hand pan is simply an instrument producing beautiful melodies.
And listening can be an experience that does not require anything more than your willingness to hear what is present.
For years, I have explored the relationship between sound, the body, emotions, movement, and personal awareness.
Through my own experiences with military service, trauma, Complex PTSD, chronic pain, grief, and recovery, I have come to understand how important it is to have choices.
Choices about my body.
Choices about my environment.
Choices about what I share.
Choices about how I participate.
And choices about what I want from a listening experience.
That understanding has shaped the philosophy behind my work.
Listening First. Nothing Is Required.
I am not interested in telling people what they must experience when they listen to my music.
I am interested in creating sound and allowing listeners to decide what that sound means to them.
When Sound Healing Becomes Another Expectation
Sound healing has become increasingly popular.
People attend sound baths, listen to gong recordings, participate in meditation sessions, and explore different instruments for relaxation and personal well-being.
Many people find these experiences enjoyable and meaningful.
But I have also noticed how frequently sound healing is described in terms of what it is supposed to accomplish.
Release blocked emotions.
Clear negative energy.
Heal trauma.
Balance the chakras.
Regulate the nervous system.
Raise your vibration.
Produce deep relaxation.
And while people may have meaningful personal experiences with sound, I believe we need to be careful about turning those possibilities into promises.
A gong recording cannot guarantee that someone will relax.
A Tibetan singing bowl cannot guarantee that a person will experience emotional healing.
A hand pan melody cannot guarantee that someone will feel peaceful.
And a listening session should not be judged solely by whether it produces a particular response.
Human beings are different.
Our histories are different.
Our preferences are different.
Our bodies respond differently.
Even the same person may experience a recording differently from one day to the next.
I believe there is room to acknowledge those differences without treating them as
problems.
Sound does not need to produce a specific result to be worth listening to.
My Relationship with Sound
My relationship with sound is deeply personal.
I work with gongs, Tibetan singing bowls, hand pan, and other instruments because I appreciate their resonance, textures, rhythms, and possibilities.
I enjoy discovering how different tones interact.
I enjoy listening to the gradual development of a gong's vibrations.
I enjoy the sustained resonance of Tibetan singing bowls.
I enjoy the melodic qualities of the hand pan.
And I enjoy the creative freedom of allowing a recording to develop without forcing it into a predetermined structure.
Sometimes I begin playing with a particular intention.
Other times I simply listen to what is happening and allow the music to unfold.
There are moments when I play gently.
There are moments when the sounds become more powerful.
There are moments when I introduce another instrument.
And there are moments when I allow silence.
Each recording becomes its own experience.
I do not need every piece of music to sound the same.
I do not need every listening session to follow the same pattern.
And I do not need to assign a particular emotional meaning to every note.
My music is an expression of my creativity.
It is also an invitation for others to listen.
What someone experiences while listening belongs to them.
The Difference Between Intention and Expectation
There is a difference between creating something with intention and expecting another person to respond in a particular way.
When I create a listening session, I may have an intention to explore stillness, rest, personal awareness, or the qualities of a particular instrument.
That intention helps guide my creative process.
It may influence the instruments I choose.
The pace of the recording.
The length of the pauses.
The intensity of the sounds.
The overall atmosphere.
But my intention does not determine what another person must experience.
I may create a gentle Tibetan singing bowl recording that I find peaceful.
Someone else may find it energizing.
Another person may find it distracting.
Someone may enjoy it while reading.
Another listener may decide it is not for them.
None of those responses invalidates the recording.
And none of those listeners has failed.
An intention can guide the creation of music without becoming a demand placed on the listener.
That distinction matters to me.
I want my work to leave room for individual experiences.
You Do Not Have to Feel Anything Special
One of the things I appreciate about music is that it can be enjoyed without requiring an explanation.
You can listen to a song because you like the melody.
You can enjoy a particular instrument because you appreciate its sound.
You can return to a recording because it feels familiar.
You can listen while doing something else.
You can enjoy the music without feeling emotional.
And you can decide that you do not want to listen at all.
There is no requirement to have a profound experience.
Sometimes people approach sound healing believing they should feel vibrations moving through their bodies.
That they should enter a deeply relaxed state.
That they should see colors.
That they should experience emotional release.
That they should notice something extraordinary.
But I do not believe those experiences are necessary.
If you listen to a gong and simply hear a gong, that is enough.
If you listen to a Tibetan singing bowl and enjoy the resonance, that is enough.
If you listen to a hand pan and appreciate the melody, that is enough.
You do not need to create a story around the experience.
You do not need to search for hidden meaning.
You do not need to convince yourself that something happened.
You can simply listen.
The Body Does Not Owe Us a Response
Living with Complex PTSD has taught me that the body does not always respond according to our expectations.
There have been times when I wanted to feel calm but did not.
Times when I wanted to rest but felt restless.
Times when I wanted to move but experienced pain.
Times when I needed quiet.
And times when music felt more welcome than silence.
I have learned that my body does not owe me a particular response simply because I have chosen a practice that is supposed to be relaxing.
If I listen to a gong recording and do not feel calm, I have not failed.
If I practice meditation and my thoughts continue moving, I have not failed.
If I choose gentle movement and discover that I would rather rest, I can change my plans.
And if I participate in an experience that no longer feels comfortable, I can stop.
I do not have to push through discomfort to prove that I am committed to healing.
I do not have to override my body's signals to satisfy someone else's expectations.
I can listen.
I can notice.
I can make choices.
And I can allow those choices to change.
Sound Is Not a Replacement for Choice
I believe one of the most important things we can offer in a listening experience is autonomy.
A person should be able to decide whether they want to participate.
They should be able to choose their position.
They should be able to adjust the volume.
They should be able to keep their eyes open.
They should be able to move.
They should be able to pause.
And they should be able to stop.
These choices are particularly important when someone has experienced trauma.
For some people, a particular sound may feel comforting.
For others, the same sound may feel unpleasant or overwhelming.
Neither response needs to be challenged.
I do not believe that someone should be told to remain with an uncomfortable sound because it is supposedly releasing something from their body.
I do not believe a person should have to disclose their trauma history to justify stopping.
And I do not believe that a practitioner should interpret every emotional or physical response as evidence of healing.
Sometimes discomfort is simply discomfort.
Sometimes a person wants something different.
And sometimes the most supportive thing we can do is respect that decision.
Consent is not an obstacle to healing. It is part of respecting the person having the experience.
Not Every Sensation Needs an Interpretation
When we listen to sound, we may notice different sensations.
Perhaps we become aware of our breathing.
Perhaps we notice tension in our shoulders.
Perhaps we feel vibrations through the floor.
Perhaps we become aware of the chair supporting our body.
Perhaps we feel an emotion.
Perhaps we remember something.
Or perhaps we notice nothing unusual.
I believe we can acknowledge those experiences without immediately assigning them a meaning.
A sensation does not automatically indicate that trauma is being released.
An emotional response does not automatically mean that a breakthrough has occurred.
A feeling of warmth or tingling does not necessarily indicate an energetic transformation.
And the absence of sensation does not mean that a listening session was unsuccessful.
Our bodies and minds respond to experiences in many different ways.
Not every response requires interpretation.
Sometimes noticing is enough.
Sometimes enjoying the sound is enough.
And sometimes we may choose not to pay attention to bodily sensations at all.
The listener gets to decide.
The Beauty of the Gong
One of the things I love about working with gongs is the complexity of their sound.
A gong can begin with a gentle tone and gradually develop into something much larger.
Different frequencies become noticeable as the sound evolves.
The resonance may continue after the instrument is no longer being played.
There is movement within the sound itself.
I enjoy listening to that movement.
I enjoy exploring the differences between my instruments.
I enjoy discovering how the sounds interact when more than one gong is used.
And I enjoy the creative possibilities that emerge when I allow the music to unfold.
I do not need to tell someone that a particular gong will heal a specific emotional wound.
I do not need to promise that its vibrations will transform their life.
The gong is already an extraordinary musical instrument.
Its sound deserves to be appreciated for what it is.
And listeners deserve the freedom to decide how they experience it.
Tibetan Singing Bowls and the Art of Listening
Tibetan singing bowls are another important part of my work.
I appreciate the clarity of their tones.
The sustained resonance.
The subtle changes in sound as the vibrations gradually fade.
Sometimes I play one bowl at a time.
Sometimes I explore how different tones interact.
Sometimes I allow long pauses between strikes.
And sometimes I create recordings that are intentionally simple.
There is beauty in simplicity.
There is beauty in allowing a sound to exist without immediately adding something else.
There is beauty in listening to the way a tone gradually disappears.
I do not need to turn every bowl recording into a guided meditation.
I do not need to speak over every sound.
I do not need to tell listeners what to imagine or feel.
Sometimes I want the instruments to speak for themselves.
And sometimes I want the listener to have an experience that is entirely their own.
The Hand pan and the Freedom to Enjoy Music
The hand pan offers a different kind of listening experience.
Its melodic qualities invite exploration.
Its rhythms can be gentle, flowing, playful, or reflective.
I enjoy the relationship between movement and sound when playing the hand pan.
There is a physical rhythm to the way my hands interact with the instrument.
There is creativity in discovering a melody.
There is enjoyment in allowing the music to develop.
And there is freedom in playing without needing the music to accomplish something beyond being music.
Sometimes a melody is simply beautiful.
Sometimes a rhythm makes us want to move.
Sometimes a piece of music becomes a favorite because we enjoy hearing it.
I believe those experiences have value.
We do not need to attach a healing claim to every musical moment.
Music can be meaningful because it is music.
My Music Tells Parts of My Story
As an author, poet, survivor advocate, and musician, I have also created albums that reflect my lived experiences.
Some of my music explores trauma.
Some explores military service.
Some explores betrayal, boundaries, grief, survival, and reclaiming my voice.
Some of my recordings are quiet and contemplative.
Others are direct and unapologetic.
My creative work reflects different parts of who I am.
But something I want people to understand is that my music does not tell my entire story.
It tells the parts I have chosen to share.
There are experiences behind my poetry that I have not discussed publicly.
There are details that belong only to me.
There are stories that I may never choose to tell.
And I am comfortable with that.
I can create a song inspired by an experience without providing every detail.
I can write poetry about survival without inviting someone to investigate my life.
I can release an album that speaks about trauma without expecting listeners to interpret every lyric as a complete account of what happened.
My music is an expression of my truth.
It is not a demand for anyone to understand everything I have lived through.
And it is not an invitation for people to demand more information.
I decide what I share. I decide what remains private.
The same respect for personal choice that guides my listening practice also guides my creative work.
Listening Without Needing to Understand Everything
Sometimes we encounter music that comes from experiences different from our own.
We may not know the artist's history.
We may not understand every reference.
We may not recognize the emotions behind a particular piece.
And that is okay.
We can listen without demanding an explanation.
We can appreciate a song without knowing every detail of the artist's life.
We can recognize that someone's work matters without expecting access to the private experiences behind it.
I believe this is another form of Listening First.
Listening without assuming.
Listening without interrogating.
Listening without making someone else's experience about our curiosity.
Sometimes we can simply receive what an artist has chosen to share.
And allow the rest to remain theirs.
Releasing the Pressure to Have a Healing Experience
There is a particular kind of pressure that can arise when we begin a practice with the expectation that something significant must happen.
We sit down to meditate and wonder whether we are doing it correctly.
We listen to a gong and wait for a particular sensation.
We attend a sound bath and compare our experience with someone else's.
We hear another person describe an emotional breakthrough and wonder why we did not experience the same thing.
But healing is not a competition.
And listening is not a performance.
I do not want people to measure their experiences against someone else's.
I do not want anyone to believe they are doing something wrong because they did not cry.
I do not want listeners to feel disappointed because they did not experience deep relaxation.
And I do not want people to assume that every listening session must become a transformative event.
Sometimes the most meaningful thing about a recording is that we enjoyed listening to it.
Sometimes we discover a new instrument we appreciate.
Sometimes we notice the silence between the notes.
Sometimes we simply spend a few minutes doing something we like.
That is enough.
Listening First Means Letting Go of the Outcome
When I think about the philosophy behind my work, I return to the importance of choice.
I cannot decide what another person will experience when they listen to my music.
I cannot determine what emotions may arise.
I cannot guarantee relaxation.
I cannot promise transformation.
And I do not want to.
My responsibility as an artist is to create and share my work with care and integrity.
The listener's responsibility is not to produce an outcome for me.
They do not need to tell me that the music changed their life.
They do not need to explain how they felt.
They do not need to finish every recording.
They do not need to enjoy every instrument.
They are free to choose.
And I am free to continue creating music that reflects my own artistic interests and experiences.
That freedom is important to me.
It allows sound to remain an invitation rather than becoming another demand.
A Listening Practice Without Rules
If you would like to explore listening without expectations, you do not need an elaborate practice.
You do not need special equipment.
You do not need a particular posture.
You do not need a perfectly quiet room.
You do not need to close your eyes.
You do not need to control your breathing.
You can simply choose a piece of music you enjoy.
Perhaps it is a gong recording.
Perhaps it is a Tibetan singing bowl session.
Perhaps it is a hand pan melody.
Perhaps it is your favorite song.
You can listen while sitting.
You can listen while resting.
You can listen while looking outside.
You can listen while doing something else.
You can adjust the volume.
You can stop whenever you choose.
You do not have to monitor your emotions.
You do not have to search for sensations.
You do not have to evaluate whether the experience was successful.
And you do not have to make listening into a daily assignment.
If you enjoy the experience, wonderful.
If you do not, that is okay.
There is no requirement to continue.
The Freedom to Simply Be
I have spent many years learning to listen to myself.
Learning to recognize when I need rest.
Learning to appreciate movement without forcing it.
Learning to establish boundaries.
Learning to enjoy solitude.
Learning to create without chasing approval.
Learning to share my work without feeling that I must reveal every part of my life.
And learning that I do not have to turn every experience into an accomplishment.
My relationship with sound reflects those lessons.
I want to create music because I love creating music.
I want to share recordings because I appreciate the possibility that someone else may enjoy them.
I want people to have access to listening experiences that do not demand emotional vulnerability or a particular result.
And I want listeners to understand that their experiences belong to them.
They are not required to feel what I feel.
They are not required to interpret the music the way I interpret it.
They are not required to experience healing.
They are simply welcome to listen.
An Invitation to Let Sound Be Sound
The next time you listen to one of my recordings, I invite you to consider something.
What if you did not need the music to do anything for you?
What if you did not need to become calmer?
What if you did not need to release an emotion?
What if you did not need to discover a hidden meaning?
What if you simply allowed yourself to hear the sound?
The resonance of a gong.
The sustained tone of a Tibetan singing bowl.
The melody of a hand pan.
The quiet between notes.
The natural sounds that may be present in the recording.
You can enjoy them.
You can notice them.
You can ignore them.
You can stop listening.
You can choose something else.
Nothing about your experience needs to be extraordinary.
Nothing needs to be explained.
Nothing needs to be proven.
You do not have to transform yourself to deserve a moment of listening.
You do not have to become someone different.
You do not have to achieve a particular emotional state.
Sometimes sound can simply be sound.
And sometimes listening can simply be listening.
That is enough.
Listening First. Nothing Is Required.
About the Author
Julie Jewels Smoot is a United States Navy veteran, author, poet, survivor advocate, and Sound Alchemist. Her creative work includes original gong recordings, Tibetan singing bowl listening sessions, handpan music, guided meditations, poetry, and albums that explore survival, personal autonomy, body awareness, rest, and reclaiming one's voice.
Through her philosophy, Listening First. Nothing Is Required., she offers opportunities to experience sound without pressure, expectations, or prescribed emotional outcomes.
Explore her original music, articles, and listening experiences at:
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