The sound offerings include gongs, hand pan, singing bowls, and other resonant instruments, recorded and shared in a way that prioritizes listening over intervention. Some recordings are long and spacious. Some are brief and minimal. Some contain silence as an active element. Each offering is different, but they share a common approach: sound that does not rush, instruct, or require interpretation.

When the sound ends, nothing is required of you. You do not need to notice how you feel. You do not need to decide whether it worked. You do not need to carry anything forward. You may remain where you are. You may move on to something else. You may forget the sound entirely.

Sound is often used to move us somewhere else. Toward calm. Toward clarity. Toward a different state. But sound does not need to create change in order to be supportive. In this work, sound is allowed to remain with what is already here. It does not pull the body forward or ask it to soften.

When sound is released from the need to make a statement, something else becomes possible. There is less effort in listening. Less reaching. Less searching for meaning. Sound does not ask to be understood. It does not require attention, analysis, or translation. It does not need to be followed from beginning to end.

Trauma teaches the body to stay alert, even when the mind wants rest. Because of this, practices that ask the body to override its signals — even gently — can feel unsafe. My listening philosophy does not ask the body to cooperate. It asks the practitioner to listen longer.