We’ve already touched on chanting throughout this series, probably more than I expected. It remains one of the most widely practiced and often misunderstood forms of meditation, especially for Western minds like mine. It appears across nearly every major tradition, usually through the repetition of words or phrases considered sacred.
If you resonate with chanting, if you feel the connection it creates to deeper teachings and traditions, then embrace it fully. The body can respond positively to sound, rhythm, and vocal expression, often creating a sense of ease, connection, and even joy.
If chanting does not appeal to you, that is perfectly fine. Find another doorway into meditation. There are many.
There are two broad approaches.
Devotional chanting, where the voice is offered to a deity or divine figure.
Non devotional chanting, where sound is used as a tool to calm the mind and regulate the nervous system.
In devotional traditions, chanting is prayer and surrender. Hindu practices chant to Shiva, Krishna, and Durga. Tibetan Buddhists chant for compassion. Sikhs chant Gurbani. Christians sing hymns. Jews chant the Torah. Muslims recite the Quran. Sufi traditions repeat divine names. The intention is connection, purification, and reverence.
This runs deeper and older than any single religion. If you’ve experienced chanting at a campfire, singing songs about creation, or at ceremonies that use plant medicines to alter consciousness, it’s similar to, and perhaps the origin of, far eastern and Indian chanting. It’s all the same thing. It’s sing song praise of divine creation, and in some cases, praise of the teacher or guru.
You do not need to believe in a particular religion to connect with it. But make no mistake, devotional chanting is a religious prayer practice, to chant and praise and say God’s name. Repeat, repeat, repeat.
Chanting at a kirtan, a devotional gathering built around call and response singing, will test your strength in seated postures. The goal, for me, every time I’ve attended, was to use the chant and the group’s energy and enthusiasm to enter a meditative state. At the kirtans I attended, each devotee is given a sheet with the prayers, and a leader, sometimes called the kirtan wallah, sings a phrase, and the devotees repeat it back.
The second approach has nothing to do with belief. It is about physiology and attention. Yogis chant Om to quiet the mind. Buddhists chant to stabilize focus. Taoist systems use sound to regulate internal energy. Modern mindfulness groups use toning and breath based chanting without any religious identity. In these systems, chanting is simply a concentration tool. Buddhists use Om and many other sounds specifically to induce deeper meditative states.
Here’s why I think this works. When you show up, again and again, to a place where you go to liberate yourself from suffering, and chanting is the tool being used, your mind starts to associate that chant with the act of becoming conscious and present in a relaxed state. It’s the same basic principle as training a dog to run home at the sound of a dinner bell, just at a different level of consciousness. We can train ourselves to feel awake, bright, even something like samadhi, by consistently attending the same kind of meditative gathering.
It’s all good work. One path leans toward devotion. The other leans toward regulation and clarity. Neither is required.
It’s far outside the scope of this book to teach devotional chanting. I’m keeping this grounded in experience and psychology. What I can say with certainty is that chanting can regulate the nervous system, steady the breath, and interrupt obsessive thinking. It works for many people.
Chanting at a group event with live music, tabla, harmonium, bells, voices, can be genuinely enjoyable. Music we like naturally calms the system. Add a shared rhythm and group energy, and people often drop into a relaxed, open state. I’ve seen it.
I attended two events with Krishna Das, an American practitioner of Hindu devotional chanting. His voice is deep and steady, built for call and response. People sat, swayed, sang, and some danced. The joy in the room was obvious. That alone tells me it works.
But here’s the other side. Most yoga based chanting in the West is rooted in Hindu traditions. That can feel unfamiliar or distant for many people. Personally, I don’t connect strongly to devotional chanting. Large group chanting can lose me. I get bored. I drift. I gravitated more toward physical yoga and the clarity of philosophy.
That doesn’t make chanting wrong. It just means it’s not my primary tool. And that’s the point. Use what works. Leave the rest.
Before we go further, it’s worth acknowledging something simple. We are already habitually chanting all day long. Not out loud, but internally.
“I’m not good enough.”
“This is too hard.”
“Something is wrong.”
That loop shapes our chemistry, mood, and behavior. That’s unconscious chanting. Conscious chanting reverses the direction.
A phrase like “I am safe” or “I am here” can become a stabilizing anchor. Repetition shifts attention. Attention shifts state.
No belief required. You don’t need religion, Sanskrit, or a temple. You can use simple words:
Gratitude.
Peace.
Breath.
Here.
The power comes from repetition and attention, not magic. Chanting is just another way to return.