What if the sounds you resist tell you the most? Most people come to a sound bath hoping to relax. Fewer realise it can be a genuine therapeutic tool — one that reaches places the thinking mind simply can't.

In this episode, Clare Savory demystifies the instruments behind the magic, from Himalayan singing bowls to gongs to crystal bowls, and explores why understanding them can completely change your experience.

In this episode:

• A plain-English guide to the instruments Clare uses — and the specific benefits each one offers
• Why Himalayan singing bowls are often the starting point for grief, emotion and feeling stuck
• What gongs actually do to your body — and why they're one of the most powerful therapeutic tools in the room
• Crystal singing bowls and the gift of mental quiet — pure frequency for an overloaded mind
• The seven R's: Including resistance, resonance and release — and what your reaction to certain sounds might be trying to tell you
• Why one session isn't enough — and how little and often is where the real change happens

3 minute sound baths available to listen to here: www.feelingsound.co/blog/12-soundscapes-of-christmas

Presented by Clare Savory, produced by ASFB Productions. For more about what we do, and to listen to free guided meditations and sound baths visit FeelingSound.co

Feeling Sound — Episode 3

Understanding the Therapeutic Benefits of Sound Bath Instruments

Hi! I'm out on my evening walk again, just enjoying life after a busy day. I hope yours has been a good one too. Maybe you've got your trainers on and you're walking with me — enjoying a bit of time to think about something else, and maybe learn a thing or two along the way.

Sound baths have been one of the most important ways I've found to rest — a playful, guilt-free way to feel more like myself, reconnect with others, and share something genuinely restorative with friends and family.

But when I first came across the term sound bath — or gong bath — I had absolutely no idea what to expect. Did I need a swimsuit? What were all those strange instruments? I remember my very first sound bath, in a quiet little room tucked away in an office block, filled with figurines and more instruments than I could name. And I'm a music geek. I was intrigued, but also a little overwhelmed — the geek in me wanted to know what everything was, how it worked, what it sounded like. If I'm honest, I spent most of that first session with one eye open, watching the practitioner and thinking: what is she doing now?

So I thought it might be helpful to give you a heads-up on what to expect — and a guided tour of the instruments I use and why. Just to note: every sound therapist's toolkit is different. What I use and how I use it reflects my own training and approach, but it gives you a good starting point.

Think of it a bit like visiting a GP. Depending on your symptoms, you might be prescribed different things. Sound bath instruments work in a similar way — each one has its own therapeutic qualities, and knowing a little about them means you can start to understand what might work best for you.

In my sessions, I use gongs, crystal singing bowls, Himalayan singing bowls, a monochord, rain stick, ocean drum, Koshi chimes and various therapeutic percussion. I'm always adding new things — there's something wonderfully childlike and playful about these instruments that I love, especially in a world where us adults can get a bit too serious.

When I had my very first one-to-one sound bath — long before I trained as a sound therapist — the practitioner asked me which instruments I'd like. My instinct was: all of them! But she gently drilled down into where I was at. At the time I was struggling with anxiety, grief, and feeling emotionally stuck. She suggested we focus on stilling the mind and working with the heart.

That might sound a little woo-woo, but there's real science behind it. The approach she used was the same one I later trained in at the British Academy of Sound Therapy — where I learned the ingredients, the recipes, and how to build a session tailored to what someone genuinely needs.

Himalayan singing bowls are often associated with emotions and the heart. When people come to me experiencing grief, bereavement or emotional stuckness, these are often where we start. They're softer and quieter than many of the other instruments, which makes them a wonderful entry point. And there are so many ways to play them — you can strike them, run a wand around the rim to create a sustained tone, or even use a violin bow to draw out an ethereal, floating high note. Being a Grade 8 violinist, I was very much on that last one. There's also a technique using a soft wooden mallet and your mouth as a resonant chamber — moving your lips like a fish to create a wa-wa effect. It sounds absurd, but it's genuinely brilliant, and if anyone opens their eyes while I'm doing it, I have to try very hard not to laugh.

Then there's the gong — the cool kid on the block. That sense of mystery, those otherworldly sounds, that huge metal disc shimmering with colour. People are drawn to gong baths for a reason. Gongs have been used as therapeutic tools for centuries, and they offer something really physical: if you love standing close to the speakers at a gig and feeling the music vibrate through your whole body, gongs are going to speak to you.

Gongs can help reduce pain and tension — headaches, migraines, chronic fatigue — and have been shown to support people with conditions including insomnia, MS and ME. They're a serious therapeutic instrument. There are countless techniques: different mallets, different strokes, moving the gong over the body, or simply receiving the vibrations as you lie or sit. I think of playing the gong like creating a floating magic carpet — long, low, smooth waves that build gently and always come back down to settle. It's a journey, not a shock.

One thing worth noting: I always ask new clients to complete a registration form, including whether they experience anxiety or depression. With gongs, I'm a little more mindful with anyone who ticks yes — the sheer volume and intensity can occasionally feel overwhelming or foreboding for someone who's already overstimulated. If that's you, starting a little further back in the room is absolutely fine. It's not about missing out — it's about finding the right distance for your nervous system.

Crystal singing bowls are probably the fastest-growing corner of the sound bath world right now, and they're becoming increasingly popular — partly because they're more accessible and affordable, and partly because they're genuinely beautiful. I always play one or two at a time. A single note held for two or three minutes feels almost radical in a world of constant more, more, more. Two bowls played together create harmonies — pure frequencies with no harmonics, just one clean note. That's why crystal bowls are so associated with mental stillness. If your mind won't quieten, if you just wish you could have five minutes of peace from your own thoughts, crystal bowls are worth seeking out.

The harmonies created by two bowls together can range from what people describe as beautiful to something a little more unsettling — and both have their place. In one-to-one sessions, knowing your intention or what you're working through allows me to lean into specific intervals and harmonies. Minor thirds, for instance, can create space to sit with melancholy and sadness. Perfect fifths can bring resolution. It sounds technical, but the point is simply this: with proper training and qualification, I can tailor the sound to genuinely serve what you need. You don't have to figure that out — just tell me where you're at.

Finally, whatever instrument combination I've used in a session, I always close with therapeutic percussion — rain stick, ocean drum, Koshi chimes, shakers. This is my way of gently bringing people back to a more wakeful state, like the snooze button on an alarm clock. The sound of the rain stick or ocean drum in particular carries something special: that rush of water feels like an invitation to let go of whatever you don't want to carry out of the room with you. To let the tension wash away.

Interestingly, the therapeutic percussion divides people more than almost anything else. Some people resist it — they don't want the session to end. Others feel an immediate sense of release, like they've been waiting for exactly that sound. I can never predict which way it will go for someone, and I find that endlessly fascinating.

Which brings me to something important: you can't always think your way to knowing what you need. You might arrive convinced you want gongs and crystal bowls and nothing else — but your body has its own wisdom. Sometimes the instruments we resist the most are the ones that have the most to offer us. In my training I learned about the seven R's: resistance, resonance and release being the key three. The sounds we push away in a session are often worth exploring. They might remind us of something, stir a feeling, point to something unresolved. Over the course of several sessions, I've worked with clients who've gradually learned to sit with sounds they initially found uncomfortable — and that shift, that willingness to be with discomfort, has built a real resilience they've been able to carry into their daily lives.

Sound baths can be so much more than simply nice and relaxing. They can be genuinely therapeutic — used to reduce symptoms, support healing, and help us process things that our thinking mind hasn't been able to reach. Sometimes we can't think our way out of something. Sometimes we have to feel it. And that, really, is what Feeling Sound is all about.

As ever, regularity matters more than intensity. Little and often is where the real change happens. And there are so many ways to explore — different instrument combinations, group sessions, private sessions, or even a session with a friend or partner if that feels like the right way to begin.

If you'd like a taste of what's possible, head to feelingsound.co — I have a series of free three-minute mini sound baths there called the 12 Soundscapes of Christmas, featuring a variety of the instruments I play. A lovely little sampler if you're curious.

Until then, I'm going to keep enjoying this walk. I hope you are too — whatever your evening looks like. I hope you feel sound. See you soon.