The drum is not here to take you somewhere. It does not ask you to journey, visualize, interpret, or arrive. It offers rhythm—steady, repetitive, present—and allows that rhythm to exist alongside whatever is already happening. A companion does not pull. A companion does not push. A companion stays.

Some daysThey sit alongside experience rather than trying to change it. They offer vibration without interpretation. They allow the body to remain as it is. Some days, the sound may feel comforting. Some days, it may feel irrelevant. Some days, it may feel unwelcome., the sound may feel comforting. Some days, it may feel irrelevant. Some days, it may feel unwelcome.

You do not need to listen the entire time. You do not need to stay near the sound. You do not need to “work with” the vibration. Turning the sound off is part of the practice. Leaving the room is part of the practice. Needing quiet afterward is part of the practice.

A serene rest day unfolds with a vibrant sunset painting the sky over the tranquil ocean waves.

Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) is not only a condition of memory or thought. It is a nervous system response shaped by overwhelm, threat, and loss of safety.

You don’t need to remember every moment. You don’t need to carry meaning forward. You don’t need to decide what this was.

Often, the most meaningful shifts happen later. In the way you pause before responding. In the way you notice your breath while standing in line. In the way your body recovers a little more quickly. These changes are subtle. They are easy to miss because they do not feel like events. They feel like capacity.

People often ask what is supposed to happen during sound healing. They want to know what they should feel. They want to know if they’re doing it right. They want to know how they’ll know it’s working. These questions make sense. Many of us have learned that healing looks a certain way—calm, emotional release, insight, lightness, peace. But trauma-informed sound begins with a quieter truth:

I am a First-Degree Nia Black Belt  and a Sound Alchemist , but that was not always a comfortable truth to live inside of. When I first walked into a Nia class and later into Nia training, I carried something many people could not see: a deep fear of using my voice.

Even when these expectations are offered gently, they are still expectations. And for many people—especially those with trauma histories—expectations can feel like pressure. Trauma-informed sound healing begins with a different premise: Nothing is required of you.

If sound healing has ever made you feel restless, emotional, numb, irritated, or even resistant, nothing has gone wrong. Your body isn’t failing. Your nervous system isn’t broken. It may be doing exactly what it needs to do. Trauma-informed sound work begins with a different assumption than most wellness culture: healing does not require relaxation. Healing requires safety, consent, and honest presence—sometimes quiet, sometimes uncomfortable, sometimes wordless.

When the mind is overloaded and the heart feels adrift, sound healing offers a pathway beyond words. A Neptune Gong Bath is a deeply immersive sound healing experience guided by Sound Alchemist Julie Jewels Smoot, inviting participants into states of profound rest, emotional softening, and spiritual stillness. Neptune—the planet of dreams, mysticism, compassion, and the subconscious—works through dissolution rather than force. This gong bath is not about setting intentions

There are moments in sound work when nothing seems to happen. No waves of emotion. No visions. No release that announces itself. Just sound, breath, and the ordinary awareness of being in a body. These moments are often misunderstood. We’re conditioned to look for signs—proof that something is working. When nothing obvious occurs, it’s easy to assume the session failed, that the sound missed its mark, or that we somehow did it wrong.

There are moments when language collapses. Moments when words feel thin, inadequate, or completely unreachable. Trauma, grief, and deep emotional states often live beyond the reach of speech. The mind searches for explanation while the body holds experience in silence. This is where the voice becomes a portal. Before we learned to speak, we learned to sound. Long before meaning, there was vibration. The human voice is not simply a tool for communication—it is an instrument of

The Chiron Gong embodies the archetype of Chiron, the wounded healer. Its sound reflects layers of subtlety, nuance, and introspection. Unlike gongs that are bright, metallic, or energizing, the Chiron Gong produces rich, multi-dimensional tones that encourage the listener to slow down and turn inward.