You’re the One For Me Fatty

January 2015 – I am on a quest to find the meaning of life as I strive to escape my suffering. Enjoy. xx

While I was wasting time on social media I noticed that a sound bath event would soon be taking place in the nearby city of Preston. I was intrigued because I had never been to a sound bath before but thought that this would be an experience for my inner quest to learn more about true reality. Was “Mother Universe” giving me a nudge in the right direction?

I researched this New Age trend and discovered that sound therapy is as old as the hills. Flutes were used to treat mental illness in ancient Greece, Tibetan singing bowls have been used for thousands of years as an aid to meditation, and Aborigines played the digeridoo to heal the sick.

These 21st-century sound baths cannot guarantee healing, but by focusing on the sounds and vibrations they can help attendees remain present in a meditative state.  I was really looking forward to experiencing my first sound bath.

It was being held at the blind centre which made sense because sightless people would undoubtedly be able to enjoy the experience along with the sighted. I chuckled as I mused that I must be in with a shout of meeting my true love there. She would be blind to my ugliness, but her other heightened senses would be able to see my inner beauty. My mucky mind conjured up images of future passionate sessions of “Let’s Get Physical” lust. Down boy! Remember, this is a spiritual journey, not a racy sexual adventure.

I arrived at the centre at 7 pm and was greeted by the friendly organiser. He instructed me to pick up a mat and walk to a spot of my choice. I grabbed a mat and placed it in an empty space near the door. There were about 15 people, mainly females sitting on mats scattered around the room. I looked around trying to figure out which lucky lady I’d like to take for a sex bath after the sound bath was done and dusted. You should be so lucky, mate! Ha-ha-ha.

As I dragged my dirty mind away from the pornographic fantasies that were playing in my skull regarding one of the females at this gathering, I began focusing on the singing bowls and strange musical instruments which were on display. Just before the session began an overweight middle-aged man picked up a mat and placed it next to mine.

The lights were dimmed, and I lay in the darkness eagerly awaiting the start of my very first sound bath. I was soon bathed in a magical celestial soundscape as the pure tones emitting from the Tibetan singing bowls hung in the air for what seemed like an eternity. It was soothing, peaceful and very mysterious. It felt like I was alone in an enchanted cavern filled with energy-giving glowing crystals. I was blissing-out on a euphoric journey to the centre of my mind as bells, tuning forks, chimes and gongs joined this surreal trippy symphony.

Next, strange sounds from obscure musical instruments entered this otherworldly world of sound.  A low rumbling noise vibrated throughout the room, which I assumed was a digeridoo. I had never experienced anything like this before; it was dreamy, it was refreshing, and I was ecstatic.

The sounds all blended together perfectly in a harmonic eargasm. In this blissful trancelike state, I imagined that I was taking a magic carpet ride across the sky to distant lands. I visited a remote village in the mighty Sahara desert and a tiny monastery high up in the majestic Himalayas.

I was living an aural dream in wonderland vibrating in entrancing ecstasy as the beautiful, strange sounds danced around the room until I was awakened by a sound I did recognise. The fat bastard next to me began snoring like a f*cking freight train.

My mystical journey to Wonderland had come to an abrupt end since the spell had been broken. The bowls continued to sing along with all the other magical sounds, but the otherworldly melody was drowned out by the painfully loud snoring of the fast-asleep bloke just two feet away

No matter how hard I tried, returning to dreamland was Mission Impossible because of the noisy bastard on the next mat. I waited impatiently for the sound bath to end, so I could jump in my car and put as much distance as possible between myself and the loudest snorer on Planet Earth.

As I drove back to Blackpool I was fuming because my dreamy experience had been spoiled by the inconsiderate twat who had joined the sound bath at the last minute before taking a snooze and snoring his big fat head off.

I was furious and down in the dumps, so I decided to dive deep inside to find out what my inner being had to say about the matter.

I got a rather surprising answer, which wasn’t to do a quick U-turn and race back to the blind centre to give Mister Noisy a gobful of abuse and a kick in the knackers for ruining my night. Just the opposite in fact.

The wise words of wisdom from inside advised that I should be grateful to the snorer for teaching me a spiritual lesson… which is that everything changes, and nothing is ever flawless.

After my utopian existence in paradise with my “Together Forever” true love had vanished before my shocked and tear-filled eyeballs, I should have recognised this.

My mojo returned on my “Homeward Bound” journey along the M56 motorway. In this spiritual state of mind, I watched the light grey clouds changing shape as they drifted across the black sky.

Isn’t life bizarre? The person I had been livid with for ruining my spiritual sound bath was the person I should have been thankful to for reaffirming that however wonderful things are, they will never remain that way because absolutely nothing lasts forever.

A big smile spread across my face as I began belting out the Morrissey song, “You’re The One For Me Fatty.”