I don't consider myself a religious person in the usual sense, meaning mainly that I don't go to church. I do, however, call myself Spiritual.
When I lived in California, I had friends of many faiths and was thus introduced to ideas that were quite new to this naive girl from the Midwest. That is when I learned about Prayer Bowls. I heard about them at Yoga and then again when I was learning to meditate. My therapist had one, several of my friends also owned them.
I learned that Singing Prayer Bowls are used by Tibetan Buddhists during meditation. They are also used in other ways - for Yoga, mental health practices, healing. Some people just collect them. I thought the whole thing was kind of woo woo at first, that being the word I used to describe all the new things I was learning on the west coast, 'new age' you might say.
We moved back to the Midwest about 10 years ago and my bowl found its resting place on the altar in a neglected corner of my studio, accumulating dust along with other previously cherished items.
Life somehow got in the way of my ritual and it made me sad when I noticed my pitiful little altar this week. My meditation has continued through the years, but sadly, my use of the Singing Prayer Bowl has fallen by the wayside.
I picked up the small items I had dumped from inside the bowl. There were some from a swap I did back in the day; each person had written a prayer and then stitched it into a tiny package. Secret prayers, sent into the world, I wonder what my prayer might have been? I found a miniature mandala book, a few metal tags with engraved words and a rattle.
Sounds and Symbols of a life that has become a bit dusty.
And I am blessed.