The Deep Knowing Sounds Like a Promise on a Drum

I admit it - I haven't drummed all that long.  And there are times when I actually wince when I call myself a drummer.


It all started when I was in a year-long priestess training class.  We were scheduled to have someone come in and help us learn more about drumming in ritual.  That was May of 2010.


I didn't have a drum.  And while I know I could have borrowed one of the ones in the class space, I wanted to make a bigger commitment.  I'm the sort of person who will buy the drum and tell myself that I will learn how to play it.


(Even when I'm less than convinced I will.)


My first drum was a Celtic Labyrinth drum, a deep red, a larger drum, and it was beautiful.  When I pulled her (I assumed) out of the box, the first thing I did was examine all of the grooves and the white of her head.


Gorgeous.  But my hands hesitated.  I wanted to touch her, I wanted to hear her, but even in the apartment all by myself, I didn't want anyone to hear it.  That virgin step towards drumming was slow, less than confident, and it took a few minutes before I summoned up the courage.


Then I heard her sound.  Deep and true.  It called to me and suddenly I was playing a beat that I hadn't practiced and that I hadn't realized I'd know.  The deeper knowing called from my hands into my heart and out into the room.


I stopped.  I heard the echoes along the walls and I wondered what she would sound like in ritual.  And then, I knew that I could.


I could.


That drum has been sent to a loving home with another Witch, but I remember that first day, that first delicate touch as something that stirred me.


Drumming continues to stir me, even when I miss a beat, or bruise my fingers, or wonder if I'll ever be good enough.


But I am good enough for the drum.  I am good enough for the song.  I am a drummer because I play, because I reached out and opened up my heart to what I already knew.


xxoo
Irisanya