Let Me Make You a Sound Bath, Babe, by Nihar Patel

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Welcome home! You look tired. Long day? Yeah, your boss is a nightmare. Uh-huh. Wait, before you get all worked up, you need to relax. Unwind. I know just what will help.

Let me make you a sound bath, babe.

I’ll start with a base winter solstice blend. The slow priming of a gong will fuse with the clockwise blossoming of a quartz singing bowl. You’ll lie back, put on a silky eye pillow, and allow your chakras to be tuned by the vibrations. As you feel rejuvenated, cares of the earthly world will vanish as you begin a healing journey that will restore your sense of womanhood and nourish your inner being. How does that sound?

You’re quiet. Why aren’t you saying anything? I’m simply offering a way for you to reflect on the busy day of work you say you’ve had. Uhhh no, sound baths are a real thing. It’s musical meditation. I can switch to a Tibetan brass singing bowl if that’s what this is about. I mean, it’s not ideal, seasonally speaking. I can throw in some rain sticks, though obviously that would undercut the soothing bass of the didgeridoo. But whatever you want. I just want it to be special to you.

Are you crying? Why are you crying? Those aren’t the tears of joy I expected to be showered with. What do you mean, “Is this all I do all day?” I work just as hard honing my craft as a sound healer as you do as a lawyer. Why? The same reason you work hundred-hour weeks at Skadden! For us. For our future!

I disagree. It is equal, if you factor out money and stress, which I do and so should you. Quantity of work isn’t quality, babe. Hate to break it to you. When I’m making a sound bath, it requires such intense concentration that 15 minutes is actually equivalent to 12 hours of your M&A work. Actually, I don’t see how making you a regular bath with hot water would’ve been more thoughtful. Are you dirty? No. It’s your soul that clearly needs scrubbing.

Usually the response that accompanies the offer of a sound bath is “Can you chant shamanically?”, not “You’re the least supportive boyfriend ever.”

Your sadness right now is making it hard for me to get into the mood to give you the sound bath you don’t even know you badly need. That’s not a preposterous sentence. That’s a truth that I perceive with my precisely tuned ears.

Where are you going? Okay, if you need a walk to figure out some things, I get it. Take your time. There will be a relaxing sound bath waiting for you when you come back, whether you appreciate it or not. In fact, a walk and a sound bath are better than just a sound bath by itself. Wow, really? I’m not hearing what you’re saying? Quite an accusation considering my ears are my gift. I didn’t want to assume you meant figuring things out meant figuring us out.

What I’m realizing is I’m not sure I can be with someone who doesn’t look at the gift of a sound bath and swell with a crescendo of gratitude. I guess that’s me needing to figure things out. Frankly, I wish I were with someone who could give me a sound bath at moments of crisis like this. No, I had to settle for a partner who helped me through a costly personal injury lawsuit. I’m not being sarcastic. There are more lawyers than legal jobs in America right now. The market is saturated, in case you didn’t know.

Oh, and while we’re being honest, you telling your co-workers I was drunk when I gave out complimentary sound bath gift certificates at your office holiday party was when I knew we were in trouble. Sometimes, it’s the sound baths you don’t give that reverberate the most, sadly.

Tonight? You want me to pack up my crystals and chimes and ocean drum and just wander the streets like some nomadic Tuvan throat singer? Well, obviously, that image does appeal to me as a sound healer, but that’s beside the point.

You kicking me out like this hurts. It megahertz. That’s sound bath humor, by the way. You know what, just forget it. We’ve been vibrating on different frequencies for too long and I’ve lost hope that we’ll ever be in sync. Your ears have been closed this whole time, babe.

Nihar Patel is a writer and director in Los Angeles. Twitter: @niharpatel.

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Let Me Make You a Sound Bath, Babe, by Nihar Patel