…it’s about connecting.
seems like most folks understand how primal a drum is. it is so much so, that most i’ve met – and i mean most - have some sense of their own rhythm and can naturally express something in rhythm with others, even if it is something as simple as the pulse.
that is where i started. the pulse. that was my level of understanding when i went to my first big drum gathering. it was an open circle where apparently everyone interested was welcome. i was at first amazed at what i witnessed. i guess there were 100 people or more, many with drums, some with sticks and bells, some clapping or vocalizing and some dancing. i found myself looking for a leader, something to explain how all these people sounded so good together. i walked the entire perimeter, listening while the rhythm seemed to morph as new drums came into my hearing range and other left it. i thought, “wow! this is really something i’ve never seen before, like some kinda democracy better than any we could contrive.” these folks all sounded great together and everyone was speaking at the same time. so, i kneeled down over the small drum i had borrowed and started pulsing. it was literally what i knew, but as i did that i could feel the connection. as i listened i could hear how my pulse fit within the context of the larger sound. i was participating at my level with something much larger than me – and it was good! i felt connected in a way that i had never before felt. as i sunk into that feeling of connectedness, i realized all these people must be experiencing something very similar; that they too must feel connected in a special way. everyone appeared happy, joyful and open. wow.
throughout that weekend, i experienced lots more drumming and decided that this was something i wanted more in my life. i came home and came up with a drum and started inviting friends to play. one thing led to another and soon enough the full moon drum circle at farmer brown’s was born. in the early days of those gatherings i think most everyone coming understood about connecting. see, in the early days there was the full moon, there was food; vegetarian was encouraged, as many of the folks open to such connecting also enjoyed the idea of sharing healthy food – and there was rhythm. i don’t think most of us knew much about rhythm (except that natural part we all share), we all had to listen and keep trying until we came together, but we always seemed to come together. to connect. drumming together connects us in a deeper way.
then i met a teacher who knew amazing things about a drum and i learned one or two. i found it fun to actually understand more than just pulse and improvise. to be able to fill in between the spaces and know where i was related to that pulse increased my confidence. i found it easier when i went to a gathering to play more expressively, to join in with more of my voice. well, that turned out to be the beginning of a process of learning many more things, one small step at a time gaining a rhythmic vocabulary. during that same period of time, hundreds of people around boise were having their first experience at the full moon gatherings. the drum swept in like a wave and seemed to have a life all its own. it was right about then i first noticed a small rip in the fabric, because it was right about then that others like me, who had been learning things started to clash a little with those who were new to this drumming thing.
see, when you learn a thing a natural progression is that you want to show others you have learned a thing. in hindsight, this is where it got real tricky. showing and sharing works really well in the right situations, as it can inspire and encourage others to learn more. but, i soon learned that showing the things you know in the wrong situations can cause others to respond in a negative fashion. knowing things changes things. i think it affects most the way you listen. knowing things and being with group of others who know the same kind of things shows you how to better listen for ‘depth’… to increase your skills, your precision, your performance. knowing things and being with group of others who don’t know the same things requires listening for ‘breadth’. i believe for most of us who think we know things, learning to listen this way is at first difficult, as our focus is most often on depth. conversely, it is easy to listen for breadth as a beginner. if you want to join in it may all you have to work with! as a beginner you are still relatively unaware of the depth…. and someone who knows a thing can appear showy, selfish and uncooperative to a group of people who just want to play together. it is communicated, often times at subtle levels that few notice, but it is communicated. when you know a thing and don’t understand this or, worse yet don’t care to refine your listening skills to include breadth, you are just asking for a negative response to your showing of that thing. in those cases one would do better becoming a teacher or performer, where the situation is more clearly defined – and where depth is more the focus and intention.
after (quite some time now of) seeing that drum wave recede in the same mysterious manner that it grew i understand better what happened and why. i see that as much as i grew rhythmically and musically and as much as i really appreciate depth in a thing… i also desire breadth in things. i want to further refine my listening skills and find ways to include, not exclude. the drum has universal primality. it has the ability to connect like nothing i’ve ever experienced. it can also divide. the difference is in the listening.
see, for me it’s about connecting, not about drumming.
[this is an article written by Rick Thom son]
“Imagine darkness so intense and so complete covering you like a velvet blanket. A blackness which cuts you off from the everyday world, which forces you to withdraw deep into yourself, which makes you see with your heart instead of your eyes. You can’t see, but your eyes are opened. You are isolated, but you know that you are united with all living things. And out of this utter darkness comes the roaring of the drums, the sound of the prayers. And among these sounds your ear catches the voices of the spirits, ghostlike, whispering to your from unseen lips. Lights are flitting through the room, almost touching you, little flashes of lightning coming at you from the darkness. Rattles are flying through the air. You feel the wings of birds brushing your face, feel the light touch of a feather on your skin. And always you hear the throbbing drums filling the empty space inside yourself, faming you forget the things that clutter up your mind, making your body sway to their rhythm…”
~Robbie Robertson “Contact from the Underworld of Red Boy“
