Speaking with Source & the Medicine of Sound:

A reflection on the healing power of vibration

Most of you know that I’ve always approached yoga more as a spiritual path than a physical practice. Yes, I practice when I'm happy & I retreat to my mat when times are tough — it helps me feel anchored, held, and present. But lately, things have been a little tougher than usual.

Four weeks ago, my dad left his physical body.

I feel his presence with me every day, and I trust he’s home now. But still — I miss his human form.

Grief has a way of moving through us in waves. Some days I feel steady. Other days it rises up suddenly, in the most unexpected moments. And while I’m incredibly grateful for the kindness so many of you have shown me — for the warmth of the Wild Soul Studio community — I’ve also felt the need to shift this energy in a deeper way.

For me, that energetic shift is often achieved through sound.

Since my dad’s passing, I’ve found myself spending more time than usual playing our gongs and drums — letting the vibrations soothe my nervous system and speak the feelings I haven’t had words for.

I recently took a couple of days off, and found myself thinking back to recent memories — days at the beach with my dad, the salt on the air, the sound of the waves. So I picked up a buffalo drum and headed down to the rocks by the sea.

I didn’t plan anything. I just sat. Let the wind move through me. Listened to the sea. Felt into the energy of the moment... I began to drum.

At first it was soft — like a heartbeat. Then it grew. The rhythm built on its own, my breath changing with it. My body moved without me thinking. The beat carried something I hadn’t been able to express.

I know the very fabric of the Universe is vibration — and so are we. And in that moment on the beach, the drum became my voice. I poured out everything I’d been holding. All the grief. All the love. All the mess of being human. I chanted seed mantras from somewhere deep in my belly — and felt connection through this primal language, older than words, that let me speak to Source without needing to explain myself.

From frantic rhythm to stillness. From expression to surrender.A sudden, softening wave of peace. A sense of being completely connected — to nature, to my body, and to something far greater than either.

It's hard to explain, but if you've felt it you know what I mean. It's not about music. It's about energy — the primal language of vibration speaks to parts of us that words simply can’t reach.

In yogic philosophy, this is the essence of nāda yoga — the yoga of sound. The understanding that vibration is the source of everything. That when we attune ourselves to it, even for a moment, something within us remembers. And in that remembering… something softens.

People sometimes call practices like these “woo woo.” But it’s older than language. Long before pills and protocols, our ancestors used rhythm to grieve, to heal, to celebrate, to pray, to feel less alone. Sound was medicine. It still is.

You don’t have to understand it.You don’t even have to believe in it. But I know when I feel it life is better.