Beyond the Sound: What Really Happens in a Gong Bath

When I first trained in gong work, I was taught to play “by the numbers.” I was told to bring out certain tones to align so-called chakra points, or to coax Solfeggio frequencies from the gong as if they held some hidden key. None of this sits with me now. There’s no scientific evidence for chakras as physical energy centres, nor for Solfeggio tones doing anything mystical.

But what I have seen, time and again, is that sound itself does work deeply on the body and mind. Not in the way the old manuals told me, but in ways that can be explained by physics, biology, and somatics.

Meditating in a soundbath

I’ve noticed that some soundbaths begin with little or no introduction, moving straight into the sound itself. For some people, this works beautifully. But I’ve also seen how powerful these experiences can be, and without context or a chance to integrate, participants can sometimes leave feeling stirred up with no clear sense of why. That’s why I choose to do things differently.

Before the gongs begin, we start with a shamanic drum journey. The drumbeat entrains the nervous system, guiding the brain into altered states, preparing the body for sound. I explain that these sessions can stir old memories, sensations, even discomfort. It isn’t wrong if pain rises, or if emotions surface, or if the body temperature suddenly shifts. These are signs of processes moving.

We begin by tending to what some might call the aura, but what science recognises as the biofield. Our heart and brain generate electromagnetic fields measurable beyond the body. We emit heat, and our fascia carries electrical charge when stretched or compressed. This means we are constantly interacting with our environment, and why vibration has such a profound effect on us.

To prepare this field, we use rose essence. The scent, subtle as it may be, works on memory. Smell is the most direct sense linked to the limbic system, where memory and emotion live. One whiff can transport someone back decades. Combined with sound, it helps surface what has been forgotten or buried, allowing release. At the same time, a few drops of red rose tincture help ground the body, softening the heart-space. Fed tends the space with sage, palo santo, and frankincense, their smoke and aroma shifting the mind into altered states, bridging ritual with biology.

Then the gongs begin.

The wind gong brings dissonance. Its sound is chaotic, unpredictable. Dissonance doesn’t harm, it disrupts. It shakes loose what is stuck, allowing the nervous system and fascia to re-pattern. Some resist, some feel unsettled, but it is in that storm that the possibility of release arises.

The Chau gong grounds and resonates through the whole body. Low-frequency sound penetrates deep fascia—the connective tissue that wraps every muscle and organ. Fascia is piezoelectric, meaning it generates small electrical currents when stretched. Sound amplifies this, stimulating fluid movement, reducing inflammation, and loosening tension stored in the tissue.

The symphonic gong carries the listener into theta states—the dreamy place between waking and sleep. Colours appear, visions unfold, lost relatives or even pets are felt nearby. These are not mere flights of fancy, but the nervous system processing memory and emotion in a dreamlike way.

Finally, the nipple gongs. Played in a slow heartbeat rhythm, they coax the body into entrainment. Clients often feel their heart race, then slow, until their system settles into coherence. The vagus nerve listens to this vibration, shifting the body into calm.

Last night was no different. Some felt pain flare in the lower back, only for it to vanish. Others shivered with cold before warmth returned. Some saw colours and images, while others felt the presence of loved ones who had passed.

When pain arises in a gong bath, it often sparks a conversation afterwards. This is where Fed brings in the lens of Chinese medicine. For thousands of years, the Chinese linked organs with emotional states, grief with the lungs, anger with the liver, fear with the kidneys. And when you listen closely, you can see why. They were pattern-seers. They noticed how the weight of grief affected breath, how anger churned through digestion, how fear froze the body at its core.

Through a modern Western lens, the same truths appear in a different language. Emotions are chemical. Hormones and neuropeptides flood the body, each state changing blood flow, breath, and muscle tone. Take fear, for example. In fight-or-flight, adrenaline surges from the adrenals, cortisol is released, the gut tightens. This is why fear is often felt in the stomach, the “second brain” packed with 500 million neurons. Anger, meanwhile, drives blood into the limbs, tensing muscles, constricting fascia, often leaving the liver sluggish under hormonal strain. Grief collapses the chest, reducing lung capacity, mirroring what the Chinese observed thousands of years ago.

So when someone feels sudden pain in their back, their chest, or their gut during a gong bath, it may not just be fascia loosening or blood flow shifting. It may also be old emotional chemistry surfacing, ready to be released.

The shifts between cold and warmth are the body’s autonomic nervous system in action. Sound vibration stimulates the vagus nerve, which governs heart rate, digestion, and temperature regulation. When the body drops out of stress mode, circulation changes, sometimes felt as a sudden chill followed by waves of heat as blood flow redistributes. It’s a sign of the body recalibrating itself.

The colours and visuals often appear when the brain moves into theta states. This is the dreamlike zone between waking and sleep, where imagination, memory, and sensation overlap. Theta states open the door to inner imagery and sometimes the sensation of presence—what people interpret as relatives, guides, or animals nearby. From a neuroscience view, it’s memory and imagination surfacing; from a shamanic view, it’s the veil thinning. Both are true to the person experiencing them.

And the racing then slowing of the heart, that is entrainment in real time. When I play the nipple gongs in a slow heartbeat rhythm, clients’ systems respond. The heart syncs to the external beat, the vagus nerve signals safety, and coherence returns. It feels like a wave of relaxation washing through the body.

The common thread is always the same: by the end, people leave softer, lighter, calmer. Not because of “magic frequencies” or mystical claims, but because vibration has worked through fascia, nervous system, hormones, and memory. The gongs act as mirrors, shaking loose what’s stuck, then guiding the body back into rhythm with itself.

This is why I hold the space differently. Sound is not about chakras or magic numbers. It is resonance, dissonance, entrainment, fascia, neuropeptides, lymphatic flow, and the electromagnetic field we all carry. Shamanism frames the ritual, scent unlocks memory, physics explains the movement, and the body tells its story.

Ty Enfys at Langrove

That’s where sound does its deepest work, helping people remember, release, and return to themselves.

See you at my next Soundbath……

Phil. Ty Enfys Shamanic Activations Ltd