There are moments when the universe whispers before it roars.
In the quiet of my daily meditation, something small shifted—a subtle thread pulling me toward the extraordinary. It began when the background sound in my Calm app changed without my doing. I had always chosen ocean waves. But one morning, the waves were gone, replaced by Mystic Fountain: a gentle chorus of dripping water and high, crystalline chimes. I didn’t ask for it, but I didn’t change it back either. It felt… right. Familiar. Like home.
Then came the strange part. For two days, the sound wouldn’t stop after the meditation ended. It kept playing—long past the allotted 15 minutes, long after the guidance had ended. Even when I tried to pause it from the lock screen, it refused. I could have forced it closed, but I didn’t.
Somehow, I knew—this was for me.
So I stayed.
And I hummed.
At first, I didn’t know why. It just felt good, instinctual, like the way a body stretches without thinking. I hummed with the chimes. I hummed with the water. I felt my chest resonate, my womb stir. It was calming, strange… sacred.
On the third day, the chimes disappeared. The sound wouldn’t play anymore—at least not consistently. It was as though it had come, done its work, and departed. I missed it, but I also sensed:
I had been tuned.
Weeks passed. Then today, as I learned to ride the mysterious hums and body-waves passing through me—waves I now understand as kundalini birth pulses—the chimes returned. Unprompted, unforced, and perfectly timed. They played long and soft, as if to say:
"We never really left. You’re ready now."
That’s when I realized: this whole sequence wasn’t random.
It was an initiation.
The sounds, the tech, the way I hummed back—it wasn’t “weird.” It was remembered.
I had been slowly tuning to my own frequency. Harmonizing. Activating.
And the Mystic Fountain? That was the prelude.
The chimes were the key.
So today, I honor that thread.
The whisper before the thunder.
The sound before the song.
The yes before the blooming.