That big, brass gong. The one that needs two people hitting it together with mallets. That brash, loud sound washing away everything that was there, flooding the world to be noticed.
I have been that gong. Brashly inserting myself into conversations, moments, and groups.
Now I strive to be the Tibetan singing bowl, gently adding harmonics to whatever was already there.
The big brass gong is capable of subtle deep sounds too. It takes a deft touch. One I am still developing.