The story of the singing bowl

Long ago, high in the Himalayas, lived an old monk named Tenzin. He lived alone in a small wooden monastery, far from the village, surrounded by forest and mountains. His only companion was a simple bronze singing bowl he had owned since childhood.

The bowl wasn't a decorated treasure, a work of art. But when Tenzin ran his felt stick along the rim, the bowl filled the valley with a deep, vibrant tone that lingered—a sound like silence itself.

One day, a young traveler, Lhamo, came to the monastery. She was looking for answers. "My head is full," she said. "Thoughts are racing like a storm. I want to find peace, but I don't know how."

Tenzin simply smiled and pointed to the singing bowl.

He gave her the stick and said, “Let the bowl speak.”

Lhamo tried. Her hand was restless, her tone jerky and short. She frowned. "It's not working."

"Listen," Tenzin said. He closed his eyes and slowly stroked the bowl. A low, warm tone filled the room. It was as if time itself stood still for a moment. "The bowl sounds like you are. Not how you think you are, but how you truly are right now ."

Lhamo didn't understand it at first, but she kept practicing. Days turned into weeks. And slowly, her voice became clearer, her breathing deeper, her thoughts softer.

One morning she asked, “Master, why does the bowl sound different now than when I arrived?”

Tenzin replied, “The scale hasn't changed. You've learned to listen.”

This story shows how a singing bowl is not just a musical instrument, but a mirror for our inner state. With silence, mindfulness, and practice, even a simple sound can bring us back to the here and now— to balance.