So there we were, a group of strangers, gathered around a fabulous Mother Drum, named “Heart of Peace”. Her human passed out the sticks, and started a simple rhythm. We joined in and played for what felt like only a few seconds.
It was over 45 minutes.
I turned to my wife and said, “I need to make one of these.”
So, the journey began – my version of a midlife crisis, I suppose – on the Path of the Drum.
Those first drums were crude, lopsided, a bit askew, but… That sound.
No, I stand corrected. Not sound.
It went clear to my bones, unlocking memories of past lives, visions of unknown places and peoples, connecting me with Spirit in a way I’d never experienced before. The simplicity of nothing more than wood and hide, intertwined in such a way that it transcended itself was actually, well, spiritual.
I had to share.
At first it was a drum here, and a drum there, a couple at a local festival, a few to friends, and slowly, almost painfully so, it began to take over what little time I had left from my mundane job.
So, I quit my job.
I began experimenting with ideas and designs, at first listening to the people telling me what they wanted. And, it worked. Sort of.
But, something was missing. It took me years to figure out what it was.
So I listened to the drums. I communed with them. I asked them what they wanted. Oh, the visions they gave me! I spoke with drum makers in my dreams and in the ethereal and a single, simple command came back.
Let the drums be what they want to be. Don’t force them. Let each have it’s own voice, it’s own personality.
I’m no longer a maker of drums.
I’m a guide.
Join me on my journey.