Drummers

Speak things into existence.

I shared with a friend that I needed a picture of some drums. Not new ones in a store - I wanted ones that reflected use, love, abuse along with hands pounding on them. Her response was, ”Go to the drumming circle at Malcolm X Park”. Immediately I became excited because I had not been there in years and had forgotten about the drumming circle.

I could hear the beats as I arrived in the park. There were only a couple of drummers initially but I noticed how they were being both deliberate and patient with a newer drummer.  I watched with the biggest grin on my face as person after person came and joined the circle. The people reflected varying nationalities, ages and as it appeared, life experiences.

I watched one drummer who arrived later.  He was slim with beautiful, sun kissed skin and locs wrapped up in a scarf allowing me to see his friendly face. I imagined was a vegan by his build. He took his time removing his drum from his back pack, and removed his shirt and shoes. After sizing up the rhythms and following those who had arrived earlier, he joined in. As he walked up and down the path between the drummers, it became clear that he was one of the leaders.  

The greater the number of drummers, the more I could feel the beats in my heart, my soul. I found myself moving as they pounded these powerful instruments. Every now and then, I closed my eyes and just listened and allowed myself to feel. I watched others do the same as their bodies responded to the beats. It was special - spiritual in some sense. Normally annoyed by dust, I smiled as I watched a woman dance to the beat of the drums making her own dust clouds and getting lost in the moment. The dust no longer mattered because I was a part of the community. There are unwritten rules to the drumming circle but mostly, people are allowed to respond freely.  

I am glad I spoke up.