Finding Stillness in the Ranks: Inside CPT Paula Ramirez’s Sound Bath Sessions

Finding Stillness in the Ranks: Inside CPT Paula Ramirez's Sound Bath Sessions

By Kristen A. Schuler

The room was quiet in a way that felt unfamiliar for a military building. Fluorescent lights hummed softly overhead. Boots shuffled as Soldiers settled onto wrestling mats and cots. A few crossed their arms at first. Others closed their eyes almost immediately. No one was required to speak. No one was required to explain anything.

In a corner of the room, crystal singing bowls were arranged in a semicircle. CPT Paula Ramirez, commander of RRB A Co., Washington Army National Guard, took a slow breath before gently striking the first bowl. The tone lingered in the air.

I had spoken with CPT Ramirez earlier about how she began facilitating sound bath sessions for her Soldiers, but observing one firsthand was something entirely different. What I witnessed was not a performance or presentation, it was regulation. It was stillness. And in many ways, it was leadership expressed without rank.

About a year and a half ago, one of her Soldiers returned from deployment to what she described as "a series of devastating life events", infidelity, divorce, and a suicide attempt.

"I had never witnessed such a drastic change in someone's physiology and presence," she said. "His blue eyes were dark in a way I had never seen before. I remember thinking, something is deeply wrong here."

He was still experiencing suicidal ideation when he returned to work.

"In that moment, my title didn't matter," she told me. "I didn't approach him with my rank, but as a human being who saw another human being in crisis."

Knowing that becoming a licensed therapist would take years, CPT Ramirez began researching complementary approaches that could support nervous system regulation alongside clinical care. She discovered research on rhythm, vibration, and sound, and began with something she already owned: a Native American drum. With the Soldier's consent, she created a quiet space, lit a candle, and began drumming in a slow, steady rhythm. After that first session, he rested for over an hour.

"When he woke up, he said it was the most peace he had ever felt in his life," she said.

They continued meeting weekly. Over time, she watched him stabilize and reconnect with himself. Other Soldiers noticed the change and began asking questions. Eventually, more asked to participate, including senior NCOs and officers.

Drumming one-on-one became physically demanding, so she transitioned to crystal singing bowls and structured sound baths, allowing her to support multiple Soldiers at once. The sessions are optional. Soldiers can participate fully, sit quietly, or continue working. There is no pressure and no requirement to share personal experiences.

As I observed the session, I saw what she had described to me earlier.

"I'm watching their nervous systems," she said during our interview. "Early on, I see shallow breathing, restlessness, tension. As the session unfolds, I look for softening, slower breath, relaxed posture, deep sighs."

Within minutes, the shift was visible. Shoulders dropped. Hands unclenched. One Soldier who had been fidgeting at the start sat completely still. Another exhaled deeply, as if releasing something he had been holding for weeks. At one point, the room felt different, heavier at first, then noticeably lighter.

"There's often a moment when the room becomes quieter, both externally and internally," CPT Ramirez explained. "It feels like everyone drops into the same rhythm."

Sitting in that space, I understood what she meant. The bowls' tones overlapped and resonated, filling the room without overwhelming it. There was no conversation, yet the atmosphere felt collective, as if, for a brief period, no one was carrying their stress alone.

After the session ended, Soldiers rose slowly. Some stretched. A few remained seated for an extra moment before standing. Most did not say much immediately. That, CPT Ramirez told me, is common.

"Later, they'll be the first ones to show up to the next session," she said. "The experience usually speaks for itself."

Soldiers have reported leaving sessions feeling as if they had just awakened from a deep, restorative sleep. Some describe feeling lighter. Others say it gives them a mental reset before returning to the demands of the day. One comment that has stayed with her: "I didn't realize how tense I was until I wasn't anymore."

For the Soldier who first inspired this work, the change was profound. At the time, he described relief from the emotional weight associated with suicidal ideation and moments of clarity that allowed him to begin forgiving himself. Today, she shared, he is doing very well.

CPT Ramirez frames the practice not as alternative therapy, but as readiness.

"A regulated nervous system supports focus, decision-making, and recovery," she said. "When it's framed that way, it aligns with mission effectiveness."

She also connects the sessions to spiritual readiness and overall wellness in alignment with FM 7-22. When senior leaders began attending, she said, their presence signaled legitimacy.

"It showed Soldiers that leadership values wellness, not just endurance."

As an observer in that room, what stood out most to me was how this work has shaped her leadership.

"It has made me more patient and more observant," she said. "I lead with a deeper awareness that behavior is often communication."

She described noticing when a Soldier appears disengaged, frequently absent, or unlike their usual self. Instead of reacting immediately, she slows down.

"I see it as a cue that something deeper may be going on," she said. "I create space for conversation, support, and accountability rooted in care."

Her understanding of resilience has evolved.

"Resilience isn't about pushing harder," she told me. "It's about knowing when to pause and reset."

Before the session I observed, the room carried the quiet hum of a typical duty day. Afterward, there was something else, not dramatic or emotional, but steadier. Regulated. Focused.

CPT Ramirez hopes Soldiers leave knowing they are supported without having to explain or relive their experiences.

"Most of all, I hope they know they are genuinely cared for," she said. "Not as assets or outputs, but as people."

In a profession where toughness and endurance are often the standard, CPT Ramirez is broadening what strength looks like. Within her formation, strength is not only about pushing through, but also about awareness, regulation, and intentional recovery.

Sometimes, it starts with something as simple as allowing Soldiers the space to close their eyes, take a steady breath, and let their nervous systems reset even if just for a few moments.