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This is the second post in a four-part series by contributor Carole Braden about her experiences with relaxation CDs from Centerpointe Research Institute. Read part one of her series here.
photo: Thinkstock
Part Two:
Four days later, as I pondered whether to eat a bag of chips or not scrub the bathroom, the Centerpointe package arrived. It contained a pile of printed literature and a CD. I threw the paper on the floor with the cardboard mailer, popped the disc into my computer and uploaded the demo track it contained to iTunes. I didn’t bother moving it onto my iPod – just plugged in my earbuds and clicked play. My computer said the track would run for 20:02. I had a feeling it would be over long before that.
Surprisingly, though, I immediately liked what I heard. It started with the “white noise” sound of falling rain; then that pitter-patter was joined by tones that sounded to me like timpani drums or ringing bells. Dum, dum, dum, dum. I was into the idea of replacing the self-flagellating voices in my head with this mind-numbing music.
Then he started talking. “Hello, this is Bill Harris, Director of Centerpointe Research Institute.” His tone on the demo track was just hypnotizing enough to make me suspect he might be a relative of Charles Manson. I listened anyway – I was still impressed by my Internet friend Marshie’s positive assessment of this strange head-shrinking experiment. But really, how much killer instinct could 20:02 impart?
He talked for 13 minutes, to be exact, and he said some compelling stuff. The Holosync hocus-pocus, he explained, was about special sounds (based on scientific research) imbedded beneath the rain and “crystal bowls” chimes I was hearing. In order to best benefit, he said, I should listen while sitting in a comfortable chair, and with my eyes closed. I also needed to listen with stereo headphones – without which the music could not do its magic. With relaxation comes many rules.
“These tones,” Bill said as the bowls bonged away in the background, “are giving your nervous system a stimulus of a very precise nature.” He continued: “In order to handle this stimulus, your nervous system is …creating new neural pathways between the left and right hemispheres of your brain.” I sat there, picturing a hot, deep-voiced Dr. McDreamy inserting cool, thin rods to reconnect my formerly feuding lobes. I’m not kidding. It felt really good.
As I understood it, listening regularly would let the two sides of my brain work in tandem, instead of in the usual left, right, left, right way. Apparently, this CD would up my learning ability, creativity, mental clarity, memory skills, and self-awareness, along with (and most importantly for me at this point) allow me to take a daily deep-relaxation break from my prickly existence. I wondered, would it help me make embryos that turn into kids? This guy seems to think his supernatural tapes can help me do anything. Even better, thanks to a money-back guarantee, I could listen for a year and still get a refund if the mysterious Holosync sounds didn’t fix me.
“In observing over 100,000 people using Holosync in 172 countries on six continents since 1985,” this Harris guy said, “We’ve noticed that dysfunctional feelings and behaviors…like anger, depression, anxiety, sadness, overeating, substance abuse, and a large number of others, fall away… .” As I’ve mentioned, I felt my fertility woes were in large part due to my constant worry and stress over whether or not I would ever pop out a kid. In any case, why wouldn’t I want to do something that could make me happier and smarter – and possibly even snuff my interest in those chips? (I doubt, however, the discs will convince me to clean the bathroom.) The final seven minutes of the demo consisted of rain and music only, no voices, facts, or figures infiltrating. As I listened, my clenched fists relaxed and my forehead began to feel Botoxed. When the sounds ended, they had been seven pretty damn good minutes.
Next morning, I went to the Centerpointe website, clicked “purchase” and authorized PayPal to transfer the $179 I owed for my first set of discs. Stick with me. I may not be as crazy as you think.
Carole Braden is a freelance writer based in New York City. She’s currently seeking her bliss on a three-month trip zig-zagging South Africa.
