The Drum Is Everything
I like drum circles. I realize that "drum circle" is shorthand for dismissing an entire group of people or subculture or way of life, but I like 'em. At this point in my life, I don't get out there and do the hippie chick dance or the channeling of the spirit animals thing, nor do I pull out a tom-tom to go pound-pound, but I do like to sit there (or stand there) and feel and experience it all. I find it cathartic and it makes me feel truly alive.
We listened to some drumming and we ate a little tofu and we walked in the dirt and the mud and we sat and watched people go by and we heard singers and instruments and birds and felt lots of love and happiness all around. At night we'd drive back to the coast where we slept after downing some food on our new Propane Stove we got with my REI cashback. On the way to and from we drove on roads through trees alongside of rivers. It was beautiful.
Then, the last night we left, our van broke down. We ended up being towed, five of us in the cab with our driver, a short and heavily tattooed guy with spaces where some teeth once were. He was nice, but it was a big drag. Then next morning, we waited for him to show up again and he towed us to Eugene where we dropped the van off to get fixed enough to get us home, and to use up some of that money we were going to use for things like mortgage and food. It was a pretty miserable day and it continued to get worse. By the time we got home, none of us were speaking to one another and one of us had decided that he was no longer going to live with us. At some point I may be able to tell that story, but not now. Now we are three - two Dads and a son. I had a few more vacation days and I filled in the rest with some sick time, as I was not ready to face the world. I'm still not ready to face the world. I've spent the last week with a migraine and sore bones and joints and DVDs and coffee and sunflower seeds and solitude and silence. I didn't speak for a couple of days - not at all.
We did buy paint to turn our guest room back into a guest room with a new color and an adults only policy, at least for now. We may start painting tonight, or maybe tomorrow. We also bought some paint to do the outside of our cottage. "Cottage" is what we call the garage that the last owner, or the owner before that, or some owner at some point, turned into a little living space. It is where our TV lives and where my art table sits. That is the art table that I want to start using. I want to start using it to make art. That is a concept I'm terrified of, but also longing for and a missing piece of my life. My life - that is what I want most of all - to have my life back. It sounds like such a 70's overworked unappreciated housewife on valium kind of a stance to take, but there it is in black and white for all to see.
A few years ago, my son and I took African drumming lessons. It was fun, and it was one of the few bonding experiences we had together - just the two of us. The other bonding experience was going to the Soul Nights at the Northwest Film Forum. Now the guy who runs the Soul Nights is leaving town. I think I want to find another drumming class or group or something, and this time - after we pay for the van (which is getting a more permanent repair job as I type) and some food and some medicine for our dogs - I might even buy a drum so I can practice at home. Not sure if my son will join me or not, but I'll offer. It would be nice to find a way to bond with him again, something that is just ours.