Pete's Expert Summary
My human, in her endless quest for what she calls "inner peace," has acquired this... thing. From what I can gather, it's a block of wood from a brand called Woodstock Chimes, holding up a single, shiny metal stick. It comes with a tiny hammer, which they pretentiously call a "mallet." The purpose, apparently, is to create a single, piercing *ping* sound to "redirect attention" or aid in "meditation," tasks I already accomplish with a well-timed stare or by simply existing. While the mallet has a certain potential for being batted under the furniture, and the wood base seems adequately shaped for a good chin-rub, the entire concept feels suspiciously stationary. It seems designed to make a single noise and then do nothing, which, unless that noise summons a ghost-mouse or opens a can of tuna, sounds like an egregious waste of everyone's time.
Key Features
- High Quality Beautiful Sound - The Zenergy Chime is tuned to a clear tone. A gentle tap of the included mallet emits powerful tones of singular beauty that last and last - a great classroom or meditation hand chime
- Great for Yoga, Classrooms, Meditation and Healing - Provides a great sound often used by professionals and teachers to redirect attention and bring calmness to their surroundings
- Made With Long-Lasting Materials - This handcrafted chime is bold in design. Made of cherry finish ash wood, 1 silver polished aluminum solid rod, mallet. Length 7".
- A Perfect Gift - Ready to give in a kraft gift box, this hand chime is a great gift for Yoga, Meditation, Teachers, Back to School, Birthday, Anniversary, Sympathy, Memorial Day, Mothers Day, Fathers Day, Wedding, Housewarming, Retirement, Christmas
- Why Woodstock Chimes? - GRAMMY(R) Award-winning musician Garry Kvistad founded Woodstock Chimes in 1979, providing high quality Woodstock Wind Chimes for outside, garden decor for outside, outdoor decor, patio decor and musical gifts
A Tale from Pete the Cat
It arrived in a box of brown paper, an offense to my senses that was only slightly mitigated by the box's excellent corner-chewing properties. My human cooed as she lifted it out: a slab of dark wood and a silver rod, gleaming under the lamp light. She called it her "Zenergy Chime." I called it a new dust-collector. She picked up the little wooden stick, a glorified twig, and I watched with the detached amusement of a scientist observing a particularly dim-witted amoeba. I expected a dull *thwack* or a cheap *tinkle*. I was prepared to be unimpressed. She tapped the silver rod. The sound that bloomed in the quiet room was not a sound at all, not in the way the clattering food bowl or the chirping birds are sounds. This was a column of pure, liquid silver light that poured directly into my ears and resonated in my bones. My whiskers vibrated with its frequency. The hum of the refrigerator vanished. The ticking of the clock ceased. For a suspended moment, the only thing in the universe was that single, impossibly clear tone, hanging in the air like a star. My nap-addled brain, usually concerned with snack schedules and sunbeam locations, was wiped clean. As the note slowly, reluctantly, began to fade, a strange clarity descended upon me. The world, once a muddle of shapes and smells, sharpened into crystalline focus. I saw, with the certainty of a prophet, the precise trajectory a dust bunny would take as it drifted under the sofa. I understood the faint, frantic heartbeat of the spider hiding in the corner of the ceiling. I knew, with absolute conviction, that my human was thinking about refilling my water bowl, but would become distracted by her glowing rectangle in approximately thirty-seven seconds. The chime was not a toy; it was a key, unlocking a plane of perception I never knew existed. My human, of course, noticed none of this. She simply smiled, a placid look on her face, and set the chime and its little hammer on her desk. She was a fool, a simple-minded keeper of a powerful artifact she could not comprehend. This was not some trinket for "mindfulness." This was an oracle. Its tone had granted me a fleeting glimpse into the fabric of reality itself. It is, therefore, worthy. In fact, it is essential. I will now require her to strike it before every meal, so I may divine whether we are having the chicken or the far superior salmon.
