native american drum
My mom ordered me an 20 inch apache hand drum covered in buffalo skin today from a Native American drum maker. She said that she called them and requested buffalo skin. The drum maker remarked that she had only one piece of buffalo skin left, had wet it, and prepared to cut it into a 16 inch size when she felt a strange inclination to wait. Then my mom called and asked for a 20 inch buffalo skin. Anyway, I'm very excited and it sounds like my mom is excited too.
Years ago, my brother seemed to get into drum circles because he was following the Grateful Dead and I thought it was sort of interesting but not really. I wouldn't have spent hundreds of dollars on a drum. There were other better things to buy. I did buy a guitar a couple decades ago and really, I'm so lame with it. I took guitar lessons and couldn't play for the life of me. I seemed to have no talent. I didn't even really like the sound of it. I like the sound when someone plays it really well but basically, the simple sound of strings didn't really resonate with me. So, I've never considered myself a musical person and in some ways, while I liked the sound of the drum, I couldn't see myself playing it. I really do like Mickey Hart on drums but whether or not I would play them is a different matter. Admittedly, I couldn't even really see why people would want to sit in a drum circle. Besides my brother seemed to be doing it just to be a cool deadhead. There didn't seem to really be any passion and if there was, it was passing.
Then when I graduated with my Master's degree back in early 2006, we had our celebration at one of the student's houses and a number of people brought drums. I borrowed a drum and sat in the grass and started drumming. My friend Kate started dancing and others were drumming and dancing. G. was there and he was having a blast. I couldn't stop drumming. Others stopped drumming but a couple of us were inclined to keep at it. It was so enjoyable for me I was disappointed when people got tired and stopped dancing. I realized I liked drumming.
Back in 2005 when I visited Taos, I stopped by the drum company there and ogled at the drums. I was in native american country and resonated with them, momentarily anyway. So I figured if I ever did buy a drum, I'd buy it from Taos Drum co. Still, I put it off because they are expensive.
This last quarter in one of my classes - expressive art therapy - we were assigned one day to bring musical instruments to class. I brought a plastic rattle out of Gs playroom. It wasn't long until I dropped it in favor of playing Molly's native american drum. There were six of us in the class that day and we were assigned in pairs. One person would listen to the music played by the other. Two people went outside and four of us remained. We were expected to ignore the other pair which is likely why the third pair went outside, so as not to be disrupted.
I banged the beater hard on the drum and there was quite a bit of satisfaction in that (Molly, owner of the drum, was my partner, listening and watching)... then I realized that I (faintly) heard Nastasha's voice - she was in the other pair on the other side of the room - and that I must be drowning out her out with my strong drumming. I lightened up out of consideration for her and her partner. But then in that act, we were suddenly connected and aware of each other. Her voice was very beautiful and haunting. I very quickly got lost in my drumming, and Natasha was singing... our connection became a dance, and although we had been instructed by our teacher to mind our own individual expressions, Natasha and I seemingly could not resist connecting through the music. It was too tempting - we broke the rules, disregarded the teacher, and went wild with our music and voice for a while. I got so lost in it I completely forgot that I was in a room at my school and I forgot that there were people watching and listening. My drumming and her singing synchronized into a beautiful, moving melody that took us and those listening to a different, "timeless" place. I felt like I had some past life connection with Natasha, like we'd been in the same tribe 30,000 yrs ago. It was strange and beautiful. My drumming and her singing told a story of life, death and Spirit, at least in my mind. As a matter of fact, when I was drumming, to a great degree I lost connection with the act of my hand holding the beater and beating the drum. It became slightly unconscious and the vision I was experiencing took over. My hand worked the drum in a way that drove the vision, sometimes not in sync with my conscious mind, seemingly moving on its own accord, but in a way that worked perfectly. "Accidents" became part of the spontaneous rhythm of the melody, only adding richness to it. We were flying. Natasha and I alternately lead each other. It was spontaneous, an intuitive agreement without words, gestures, or glances. My eyes were closed. When we wound down to completion in perfect harmony and I opened my eyes, I felt a jaw-dropping sense of shock. I sure had a fresh (deep) respect for Natasha coming out of that. I suddenly saw her so much more for who she is than just that other person in my class. Now I think I finally understand the drum circles.
I am now getting a strong urge to have my own drum, of course, because I'm dying to repeat that experience if I can. I wasn't sure about finding an unknown apache drum maker and compared that with ordering something from taos drums, which is highly reputed. But then I thought, this is a shamanic type of thing and I don't know if ordering from some mass marketed drum co. will do it for me, so I went with the risk of the unknown. I am suddenly more hopeful given the intuitive nature of my drum maker (crossing fingers until it actually arrives). That seems to indicate that she truly cares about the quality of her drums down to having a spiritual/intuitive outlook on her connection with not only the drums but her customers. As far as I understand, it empowers the drum when it is given by a loved one. My mom is all too happy to provide. I'm beside myself really. It's plain. I ordered no painted design on it. I felt like painting an image on it would define something I wasn't ready yet to define for myself and the blank canvas nature of the drum would be better for my drumming at this point.
Years ago, my brother seemed to get into drum circles because he was following the Grateful Dead and I thought it was sort of interesting but not really. I wouldn't have spent hundreds of dollars on a drum. There were other better things to buy. I did buy a guitar a couple decades ago and really, I'm so lame with it. I took guitar lessons and couldn't play for the life of me. I seemed to have no talent. I didn't even really like the sound of it. I like the sound when someone plays it really well but basically, the simple sound of strings didn't really resonate with me. So, I've never considered myself a musical person and in some ways, while I liked the sound of the drum, I couldn't see myself playing it. I really do like Mickey Hart on drums but whether or not I would play them is a different matter. Admittedly, I couldn't even really see why people would want to sit in a drum circle. Besides my brother seemed to be doing it just to be a cool deadhead. There didn't seem to really be any passion and if there was, it was passing.
Then when I graduated with my Master's degree back in early 2006, we had our celebration at one of the student's houses and a number of people brought drums. I borrowed a drum and sat in the grass and started drumming. My friend Kate started dancing and others were drumming and dancing. G. was there and he was having a blast. I couldn't stop drumming. Others stopped drumming but a couple of us were inclined to keep at it. It was so enjoyable for me I was disappointed when people got tired and stopped dancing. I realized I liked drumming.
Back in 2005 when I visited Taos, I stopped by the drum company there and ogled at the drums. I was in native american country and resonated with them, momentarily anyway. So I figured if I ever did buy a drum, I'd buy it from Taos Drum co. Still, I put it off because they are expensive.
This last quarter in one of my classes - expressive art therapy - we were assigned one day to bring musical instruments to class. I brought a plastic rattle out of Gs playroom. It wasn't long until I dropped it in favor of playing Molly's native american drum. There were six of us in the class that day and we were assigned in pairs. One person would listen to the music played by the other. Two people went outside and four of us remained. We were expected to ignore the other pair which is likely why the third pair went outside, so as not to be disrupted.
I banged the beater hard on the drum and there was quite a bit of satisfaction in that (Molly, owner of the drum, was my partner, listening and watching)... then I realized that I (faintly) heard Nastasha's voice - she was in the other pair on the other side of the room - and that I must be drowning out her out with my strong drumming. I lightened up out of consideration for her and her partner. But then in that act, we were suddenly connected and aware of each other. Her voice was very beautiful and haunting. I very quickly got lost in my drumming, and Natasha was singing... our connection became a dance, and although we had been instructed by our teacher to mind our own individual expressions, Natasha and I seemingly could not resist connecting through the music. It was too tempting - we broke the rules, disregarded the teacher, and went wild with our music and voice for a while. I got so lost in it I completely forgot that I was in a room at my school and I forgot that there were people watching and listening. My drumming and her singing synchronized into a beautiful, moving melody that took us and those listening to a different, "timeless" place. I felt like I had some past life connection with Natasha, like we'd been in the same tribe 30,000 yrs ago. It was strange and beautiful. My drumming and her singing told a story of life, death and Spirit, at least in my mind. As a matter of fact, when I was drumming, to a great degree I lost connection with the act of my hand holding the beater and beating the drum. It became slightly unconscious and the vision I was experiencing took over. My hand worked the drum in a way that drove the vision, sometimes not in sync with my conscious mind, seemingly moving on its own accord, but in a way that worked perfectly. "Accidents" became part of the spontaneous rhythm of the melody, only adding richness to it. We were flying. Natasha and I alternately lead each other. It was spontaneous, an intuitive agreement without words, gestures, or glances. My eyes were closed. When we wound down to completion in perfect harmony and I opened my eyes, I felt a jaw-dropping sense of shock. I sure had a fresh (deep) respect for Natasha coming out of that. I suddenly saw her so much more for who she is than just that other person in my class. Now I think I finally understand the drum circles.
I am now getting a strong urge to have my own drum, of course, because I'm dying to repeat that experience if I can. I wasn't sure about finding an unknown apache drum maker and compared that with ordering something from taos drums, which is highly reputed. But then I thought, this is a shamanic type of thing and I don't know if ordering from some mass marketed drum co. will do it for me, so I went with the risk of the unknown. I am suddenly more hopeful given the intuitive nature of my drum maker (crossing fingers until it actually arrives). That seems to indicate that she truly cares about the quality of her drums down to having a spiritual/intuitive outlook on her connection with not only the drums but her customers. As far as I understand, it empowers the drum when it is given by a loved one. My mom is all too happy to provide. I'm beside myself really. It's plain. I ordered no painted design on it. I felt like painting an image on it would define something I wasn't ready yet to define for myself and the blank canvas nature of the drum would be better for my drumming at this point.