Review of Integratron/sound integration trip -By Holly Prouse As car doors close, water bottles unscrew. Deep purses reveal hidden snacks for our two-hour drive from Orange County to Joshua Tree. The air is electric! But we still need to push each other out of our auric fields. We're sensitives. It's not natural for us to be this close. It's an auric-field stew. Integratron's courtyard welcomes us with it's wealth of outdoor furniture. It's a treasure trove of carved wooden sofas, chairs upholstered with denim jeans, and a fireplace cut out of a metal barrel with shooting stars on the side. There was even a floor lamp with an electrical cord running to an outlet. Where's the remote control and popcorn in this joint? Our hostess gracefully emerged from her white brick House she emits incense and hippie-era simplicity. Her gauze skirt flows in the desert breeze as she welcomes us with open arms. We become tiny ducklings as we followed her through the yard and into the big white dome. It is cool and air conditioned.As she spoke about the creation of the dome, I wandered around taking photographs in a moment of auric peace. We went upstairs. The top of the dome feels like a temple. It has an altar with tiny gemstones, various deity statues, and photographs of religious icons. The room is focused on nine quartz crystal singing bowls. Each one is keyed to a different Chakra in the body. The idea is to be bathed in a bubble bath of sound, and me with rubber ducky in hand. We situated ourselves on mats wrapped in colorful blankets from south of the border. The beautiful wooden floor was vast and far reaching. We were readied for total musical relaxation. Dibs on the mat closest to the bowls. Our hostess-with-the-most-est blossomed into a regular musical conductor. She sat down behind the singing bowls with her flowing skirts and scarves. She twirled a baton around their fluted edges and the quartz bowls began to sing.I lay on my back and waited. What will a sound bath feel like? Should I have remembered my bathing cap? The kind with rubber flowers on top that your Mother made you wear like it's still 1950? (Maybe I should push that from my auric field.)On my back. Listening. Nothing. No booming voice from the Almighty declaring life's eternal message (which I was good-and-ready to hear). Just a hot Mexican blanket on the floor. But then I saw it. The English coast. Tall cliffs overlooking a deep blue sea. A little stone cottage. I was sitting on the porch in a wooden Adirondack chair (none of that Ikea stuff). My arms were wide open and I was soaking up the warm Sunshine waves of peace were breaking on the shore below. Then the music quieted and our conductor left the room. There's a childlike kind of peace that comes after listening to singing bowls. It's probably unique to each individual but I didn't want to get up from the floor. I wanted to roll around with my arms outstretched in all directions even if it meant that my blouse was riding up and exposing my pasty-white-pudding belly. But I didn't care. I rolled around and around. The other ladies began quietly sharing stories. I just rolled. I rolled from one end of the Integration to the other. I would have rolled off the edge if I could. I rolled until I got tiny little floor pebbles in places where I didn't want tiny little floor pebbles. But that's what Integratron did for me; pasty white belly and all. Just total relaxation. |
Pictures of the Integratron trip |