This will work with my tingsha ringing and my Himalayan singing bowls. Hmmm, i love this.😊❤❤❤❤
@Lucianacf09198Ай бұрын
🙏🏼
@Lucianacf09198Ай бұрын
📿🙏🏼
@佳穎吳-r3iАй бұрын
感恩❤
@Lucianacf09198Ай бұрын
📿🙏🏼
@enriquevega8632Ай бұрын
Ffbfhfhfrhpoo
@wc5343Ай бұрын
听后经常做梦,大多是美梦,是怎么一回事呢
@小兔子-e1k2 ай бұрын
頂禮聖物🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷
@selinad.46532 ай бұрын
我在听这个音乐冥想时,闭着眼睛看到光!❤
@rogershen01Ай бұрын
加油、再繼續下去你就睡著了。
@yiningma16062 ай бұрын
有广告 冥想会被打断
@Lucianacf091982 ай бұрын
📿🪔🙏🏼
@cardiandrews22662 ай бұрын
Very like this sounds, make me very peaceful
@yanjunsun8832 ай бұрын
愿世间多美好!平安喜乐!
@hugohernandezlopez18302 ай бұрын
Perfecto 💯🎉 🙏 Gracias
@TazDevmusic2 ай бұрын
Thanks for use my muisic.🤗
@oliviaywt2 ай бұрын
謝謝!
@PokharaAnnapurna2 ай бұрын
There is a rocky mountain. There is a peak. There is a small cave. You are sitting in it. Close your eyes. You face the open side of the cave. You see light and darkness all over your body. Close your eyes. You feel your eyelashes fluttering slightly. Close your eyes. You see the forest spread out under your feet, the sky spread out above your head, and the cave you are sitting in at the same time. Close your eyes. You feel the cold inside the cave and the heat outside the cave at the same time. Close your eyes. You see the day and night of the rocky mountain at the same time. Close your eyes. You see the red sun and the pouring rain at the same time. Close your eyes. You see the meeting before you decide to become yourself. Close your eyes. You see the movement of consonants and vowels coming together to make your name. Close your eyes. Many voices call you at the same time. Close your eyes. You see the sight of those voices scattering to the sky and the ground and becoming the sound of rain and wind. Close your eyes. You see the will of the rain and the will of the wind. Close your eyes. Your gaze falls against your will to a part of the forest. Close your eyes. You feel protected. Close your eyes. Grandma is asleep. Close your eyes. You, five years old, watch the sunlight quivering on your blanket as you sleep next to Grandma. Close your eyes. Your gaze soars to the sky. Close your eyes. Your gaze falls back to a part of the forest. Close your eyes. You see yourself in your school uniform floating above the train window. Close your eyes. A translucent landscape passes over you. Close your eyes. You see your back walking along a white sand beach. Close your eyes. You see an open space where every book you have read is open. Close your eyes. You see every page of every book as an open space. Close your eyes. You hear the sound of waves mixed with screams. Close your eyes. Thoughts of death pass through your mind, but you don’t see what you don’t want to see. Close your eyes. Your gaze soars to the sky. Close your eyes. You see a part of the forest burning, and you see the burnt area covered in bushes again. Close your eyes. Your gaze falls. Close your eyes. You see yourself sitting on a bench by the lake with white hair, reading a book. Close your eyes. The wind turns a page, then two. I close my eyes. I see a few snowflakes fall on the lake surface, melting and quickly becoming part of the lake. I close my eyes. I see my family come to life and die. I close my eyes. I see my friends come to life and die. I close my eyes. I see tears flowing from my eyes. I close my eyes. I see that the past and the future both belong to this forest. I close my eyes. I see that everything that is not the past and the future also belongs to this forest. I close my eyes. I see eyelids that never open. I close my eyes. I open my eyes. The house is quiet. ...
In my mid-twenties, when I was suffering from severe panic attacks, I wanted to escape the world and become a bell ringer in a monastery. I wanted to go to a Benedictine monastery, and look up at the bell tower, and hang on a rope like the Hunchback of Notre Dame. I wanted to be a bell ringer, and fly away from the pitying gazes. Only with this emotional desire, the monastery did not open its doors, and now I am waiting outside the monastery for that moment of desire. In this hermitage, at 7 a.m., an old nun, hanging on a long rope, rings the bell. Sometimes, when I lean inside the door, it seems as if she has not yet handed me over to the bell ringer. Today is Schubert, tomorrow is Gounod's Ave Maria at Sunset. ...
@PokharaAnnapurna3 ай бұрын
Poor house in Faulkner Mountain On the eaves hangs a single wind chime, and it makes a noise Where does the wind come from? The bell rings, as if to say something How does its sound Ring the air Long and long And the birds spread their voices with the sound The trees in the thick valley all bow their heads to one side And their hair is neatly combed and spread And the weeds in the shadows between the rocks round their ears And the flowers to the trees, And the trees to the moon, And the moon to the stars, Sending their sounds from all sides And the flat roofs of the villages far below the mountains Struggling, caressing each head Spreading warm waves Upon the round ripples that began first And the round loops that began later follow neatly Forward without loops, without overlap And each keeps its own way The ring that returned after hitting the wall of the underworld One by one, it returns as a seedling The bell that holds all the sounds I made The waves of words and actions I spoke without thinking while living here It circles the four corners of the universe and returns to me When I hear the sound of the wind, I realize Everything in the universe already knows everything Finally, I think deeply ...