On a Friday night in spring, Kelly Smith calls her Sound Bath class to order, hushing the chatter among the two dozen women (and one man) gathered in Edina's Barre3 studio. Each of us sits on a mat on the floor. We'd been reminded to wear comfortable clothes and bring a pillow and blanket, as if we were going to a yoga sleepover.
"I'm about to tell you the hardest thing you'll do in this class," Smith says, with a smile and a dramatic pause: "Lie down."
Amid the ensuing laughter, pillow fluffing and settling in, Smith tells us she will play the seven crystal singing bowls arrayed in a semicircle in front of her. She'll guide us through a meditation. Our job, she says, is to relax.
"If you fall asleep and snore, don't worry, because the sound from the bowls will drown it out."
As she begins to play, the sound is indeed loud, and resonant — notes hang in the air, extended. Smith began the guided meditation in a jungle. And I wish I could report back on where she took us. But the next thing I knew, she said we were coming out of a cave. I hadn't been in one. I'd been somewhere else, someplace bright and humming, where I was deeply relaxed and, yes, likely snoring.
Across the Twin Cities and the country, this form of meditation is generating buzz, with sound bathing turning up on an episode of "The Kardashians" and being touted by Adele as a way she coped with pandemic-induced anxiety.
Smith, 31, who founded Yoga for You eight years ago and the Mindful in Minutes podcast almost five years ago, thinks the pandemic increased interest in the practice. "People were left with their own thoughts and feelings. Lockdown time helped us see the value of connecting with and caring for the self."
Primal responses