An unlikely chanter
I chant. And I love it.
And even though I do this whole sacred sound thing, a lot of people still react to this news with a genuine sense of surprise.
You chant? Seriously? Wow.
And the wow is usually an I’d-never-have-guessed-that kind of wow.
I can understand their surprise. I guess, in a lot of ways, I’m an unlikely chanter. I love punk rock music. I don’t meditate (in the usual way). I wear KISS t-shirts. I watch beatboxing videos on YouTube.
That may not immediately translate into an image of me singing devotional chants with my whole heart. But I do. And I love it.
Did I say that already?
Sorry. I kind of gush when I talk about this stuff.
Where it all started
My first exposure to chant was through the tradition of the Yoruba people. They have a style of call-and-response singing called orin. During one of my visits to my elder, Baba Bolu, he led a group of us through an orin for Aje Saluga, a goddess of prosperity.
It was a pretty amazing experience, feeling the back-and-forth flow as Baba sang a line and then we sang a line. Between the drums and the singing, it rocked my world. I could feel the power of chant in my bones.
But my real passion for chanting began when I bumped into the music of Krishna Das. Krishna Das sings kirtan, a type of devotional chanting found in the spiritual traditions of India.
And speaking of rocking my world?
Yeah. He rocked it in a huge way.
When I heard KD sing the Maha Mantra – the one most folks know as the Hare Krishna mantra – something pretty wow-worthy happened. The short version went like this:
Lots of tears. An unstopped urge to let my body move. And a great big huge sense of love.
I was a little surprised by this. Not because I don’t get the whole sound shifts stuff thing, but because I was just listening casually. And I had no idea what any of the words meant. And because I totally wasn’t expecting that kind of response.
But it definitely affected me. In a deep way. And I had to know more.
So, with the quickness, I snagged everything Krishna Das ever recorded, and I listened. A lot. Like pretty much non-stop for awhile. And as I listened, I sang along. I butchered way more words than not, but I kept singing. Because I loved how it felt.
It was hard to explain why, but singing these songs just felt good. Like yummy-for-the-soul sort of good.
One day I was watching KD’s Yoga of Chant. He was talking about how chanting helps you to find the kind of peace that doesn’t go wonky in the face of day to day stuff. That deep peace that’s always there.
Now I’ve heard a lot of people talk about inner peace, but it’s never hit home the way it did that day. And I realized the reason it landed so strongly for me then is because it was clear that Krishna Das wasn’t talking about peace conceptually, but experientially.
He’s tasted what he’s talking about.
Right then I knew one thing. I wanted whatever it was he had. And if chanting is what got him there, then it was time to chant.
That’s when it all came together for me. Singing these songs feels so good because they connect me to that great big peace. And that’s delicious!
And the tears that flowed the first time I heard KD rocking the Maha Mantra? I’m pretty sure those were tears of joy and relief and celebration. I’d brushed against something I had been searching for forever without even really knowing it.
Why I chant
So I chant to keep in touch with that great big peace. I figure it’s a good idea to keep the path between us clear, so I don’t forget where it is.
But I still forget. So I chant to remember.
And I chant to clear out the clutter that covers up my heart. The stuff that shuts me down. The stuff I trip over. The stuff that breeds stuck. All the ick I should have gotten rid of ages ago, but have kept around for a variety of reasons. I chant to let it go bit by bit.
Chanting makes my heart clear.
I chant to remember who I really am. When the dust of life settles over everything, and I start to believe I’m the stuck and struggle that I’m experiencing, I chant. As I do, it’s like a big wind blows by and carries away the dust and the detritus.
And then it’s like, Oh right! That’s who I am. Right on.
I chant to fill up. After a lot of years of being used to running on empty, taking time to fill up is really important to me. Life is better. I’m happier. I can do what I do way better. And since I dig chanting so much, it’s easy to make time to do it. Which makes it easy to fill up too.
I chant to get unstuck. I can spend a couple of hours pushing and pushing, where absolutely nothing gets done. Then I can chant for ten or fifteen minutes, and the stuck shifts and the road opens and whatever I’m doing flows like water.
So now I’m trying to remember to turn to chant sooner, before I push and push for hours on end. Baby steps, right?
I also chant to give thanks. Some days are filled with a whole bunch of awesome. So I chant to celebrate, to share a big woot with the Big Mystery.
I chant to touch that bigness. When I chant I feel the presence of something way bigger than me. Maybe that’s where some of the peace comes from. I don’t know. But I do know that a few seconds with this bigness helps me to keep everything else in my life in perspective.
And I chant for me. I don’t do it for other people, or when other people are around. I don’t do it during sessions. I do it by myself, for me.
I think that having a for-me thing is really important. I don’t have to worry about what I sound like, or what I look like, or whether my socks match. I can just focus on chanting.
Did I mention the peace? Yeah, it’s awesome.
I’m nowhere near the peace-that’s-always-there-no-matter-what place. But even hanging out with real live peace for a few minutes is pretty awesome. And pretty healing.
And I figure that if I hang out there often enough, this peace may eventually stick around. We’ll see.
For now, I’ll keep chanting.
Checking out the chant
If you find yourself wanting to check out chanting, it’s super easy.
Pick any word or phrase that holds some mojo for you. It might be a classic mantra like Om Mani Padme Hum or the Maha Mantra. It could be a sacred name that reflects your personal relationship with the Divine. Or it could be a word you really dig. Like love, health, peace – anything you’d like.
Set aside a few minutes to do your thing. Pick a place where you’ll be comfortable, and where you’ll have enough privacy to really rock out, if you want.
And then just chant.
Quietly. Loudly. While sitting. Or standing. Or dancing.
Whatever works.
There are all kinds of traditions around chanting, but, at the end of the day, it’s really about the relationship between you and the chant. So start where you’re comfortable, and do what feels right for you.