Tibetan Prayer Chimes

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1 Trainers’ Tools

 

I’ve long believed that any large EFT training

Is in need of some way of getting

People’s attention at beginnings and breaks.

 

Twenty years ago, I saw

My favorite Focusing trainer using

A Tibetan singing bowl to start a session.

 

I asked for one for my birthday,

Settling for an inexpensive model

Tuned to middle C.

 

This bowl served me well

But sounded more the dinner bell

My mother used to call

Her wayward children home.

 

This led a generous EFT colleague

To buy me a more elegant little one

With a penetrating, bell-like tone.

 

A musical instrument, it was,

But also a bit heavy

And prone to being knocked out of true

In my luggage.

 

Another EFT trainer, since passed away,

Had the solution to this problem:

A little pair of shimmering

Tibetan prayer chimes,

Tethered together by a rough bit of rope.

 

I took these two trainers’ toys

To many trainings,

And they became a fixture

At EFT conferences,

 

Helping sessions run closer to on-time,

Without yelling or shouting,

And flashing former participants back

To earlier trainings

They had done with me.

 

2  Lost Chimes

 

For my most recent trip, I packed light,

Took only my set of chimes

And used them well

For the training I ran

In Switzerland.

 

After a stop in Poland,

I arrived in Romania.

First day, EFT trainer meeting:

Loud buzz of excitement.

 

At this point, I usually pull out my chimes,

To mark the start,

To penetrate the din.

 

But when and where did I see them last?

I went through my backpack: nothing.

Upstairs, I rummaged through my suitcase:

Not there.

 

I repeated the search of backpack,

Slowly and carefully.

But they had pulled a disappearing act.

 

What happened to them?, I wondered.

Did I leave them in the training center

Or my hotel in Switzerland?, in Poland?

I grieved them. Trainer meeting and conference

Went on, noisily, behind schedule, without them.

 

 

3 What Happened Next

 

Conference ends. Singly and in small groups

People go, leaving the usual

Post-conference emptiness.

 

At the airport,

Security pulls my overstuffed,

Black backpack aside.

They take out many things,

Putting them Into another tray,

Checking, checking:

 

Phones, wallet, hard-drive,

A little metal tin of cocoa nibs,

A suspicious small notebook from Canada,

Which they bang repeatedly on the table.

 

Clearly checking for something,

They put my bag through the scanner again,

But the mystery remains:

 

Like digging deeper into a magician’s hat

(Are all EFT trainers magic workers?)

They pull still more things out of the bag:

 

Shirt, keys, masks, food;

They heft the large Granny Smith

breakfast-apple-for-the-teacher

Fervently offered to me

By an Asian EFTer.

 

Until, at last, from the darkest recesses

Of an outer pocket, unexpectedly

And to everyone’s surprise and relief,

They pull the Tibetan prayer chimes,

That so perplexed and worried them.

 

We all laugh.

“Thank you for finding them!” I exclaim,

They hand me the pile of backpack and trays.

 

No time to explain the back story

Which has taken me many hours

And thousands of miles to lay out here.

 

I go on my way,

Still laughing and shaking my head,

Full of wonder and joy

For all the small things

That make our lives magical and full.

 

                                    -5 July 2025, enroute from Bucharest to San Francisco