The Senses Therapy: A foray into the world of sound therapy

I’ll be perfectly candid with you. In my paltry 19 years of living, practising meditation and yoga have never crossed my mind. I’m not alone in this—my circle of friends remain similarly uninitiated. Is it a generational thing? Perhaps. As a broad disclaimer, discovering The Senses Therapy wasn’t something that occurred out of my own volition. Instead, all credit goes to my editor who stumbled upon a poster featuring ‘Sound Therapy’ in all its mystique. 

Like any lifestyle experience that begs further probing, this one comes with an experience worth writing. And so the baton is handed over to me, as I word out my virgin experience in the world of devotional exercise and spiritual healing.

Searching for the studio is a mental journey in itself. Nestled amidst rows of shophouses, is a narrow staircase up to the second floor that appears less than inviting. To the unsuspecting eye, it’s easy to miss. Just keep a lookout for two laminated posters along the entrance. It’s humbly furnished from the outside, offering nothing more than simple signage and one shoe rack. At this point, slightly apprehensive is the best way to describe my feelings, because behind those doors will always be my first. The first taste of therapy, I mean.

Healing through sound

But first, a backstory. Opened in 2019, The Senses Therapy is helmed by Jasz and Lusin. They offer both one-to-one and group sessions for a variety of classes (S$18 for a single online class, S$36 for single common class, S$180 for a one-to-one class) ranging from yoga to meditation. In the spirit of keeping things direct and to the point, let’s address the elephant in the room: What is sound therapy? My conversation with Jasz sheds light on the techniques of ‘healing through sound’, which I shall try my best to summarise. 

She brings out an arsenal of instruments and carefully displays them on the mat. I’d be lying if I said that any one seemed familiar to me. These aren’t the strings and keys you’d find in a Yamaha store. Tibetan singing bowls jump out at me, all adorned in their shiny furnishings and floral imprints. A strike on the edge of the bowls lets out a rich, resonant tone that does stray quite far away from my playlist of Coldplay and Taylor Swift. Elsewhere is a visually striking rainstick which stays wholly faithful to its name. Jasz’s careful manoeuvres with this cylindrical instrument create an eerily close reenactment of the pitter-patter of heavy downpours. Maybe I should get one for my naps. 

The other perennial question is this: How does this help me? It’s an entirely valid query, and a sentiment I’m sure many in my therapy-less position will share. Before my session begins, Jasz asks me if there are areas in life I currently struggle with. Talk about loaded questions. As someone who so recently broke free of the shackles that are the life of a JC student, I immediately realised that I never had the time, or mental space, to ask myself that very question. I embarrassingly shrug, as if I’m beyond the trappings of frivolous things such as personal problems. I’d soon find out otherwise.

Let’s meditate

It begins with me on a mat. Enter the horrid flashbacks to school fitness tests, as the dreaded initialisms of IPPT and NAPFA all come back to haunt me and my unfit past (and present). Not to worry, there’s none of that here. First, I sit cross-legged, eyes closed on the foam. Put me on a treadmill, and I crumble, but this I can pull off. It’s a peaceful five minutes, where it’s just me, my thoughts and the calming words of Jasz. 

Here’s where things get a little interesting at The Senses Therapy. Classes here vary between meditation and yoga, but Jasz and Lusin carefully differentiate their programmes, where sound elements are smoothly integrated into the lessons. 

As I shift to different postures and holds, the instruments come into play. It’s thoroughly audible and yet not overly piercing. My concept of time does become a little skewed in the process, where my mind runs free against the backdrop of trickling rain and singing bowls. As much as I desperately want to avoid the cliche, it’s undoubtedly relaxing. Where your thoughts bring you during this precious period of solitude is entirely up to you, and for me, it’s time away from the impending doom of national service or the worries of the next publishing deadline. 

Bottom line

I’ll admit, the first ten minutes were swarming thoughts of “What am I supposed to be feeling?” and “Am I doing this pose correctly?”. My advice? Ease into it. Speaking from one who bears the burden of inexperience, a session at The Senses Therapy only becomes something constructive when preconceived notions of therapy and meditation are shunned. The experience will differ from one person to another, and rightfully so—mental growth is, after all, a process. Don’t arrive thinking that therapy magically erodes stress. For some, first confronting your troubles through meditation is the first step in the right direction. It’s no wonder then that such sessions become a point of weekly return for some. 

I didn’t attain Nirvana nor did I leave with a refreshed outlook on life, but what I did gain was an enriching insight into the appeal of sound therapy and all that it entails. It’s an experience I have Jasz and Lucin to thank for, and while I can’t say that I am about to sign up for a package class myself, perhaps I will set aside some me-time for all things solitary, tranquil, and for the lack of a better word, therapeutic. Consider me a partially convinced cynic.