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Drumming and Community - Michael Taylor This particular Sunday is clear and traffic is light as I travel to my early morning ritual of drumming on the shore of Lake Michigan. Walking up to the spot long ago deemed the "Haunt of the Holy Goat", a feeling of anticipation begins to rise from within me. As I unpack my drum, I give a look to my audience, the Lake, and see that she is very still at this early hour. I begin to remember what it was that prompted me to come here. It was the desire for a deeper understanding of my relationship to the drum and rhythm. I remember that first drum circle - in the parking lot at a Grateful Dead show. From a distance through the din of the crowd I hear the pulse. It seems to emanate from everywhere. I feel as though I have just plugged in to some electrical outlet, only the electricity is in the pulse. Walking closer, I see what is fueling the pulse. Drummers and dancers of all shapes and all kinds. Flailing arms attached to spinning bodies move my gaze around the circle; people with their eyes closed appear to be plugged in to the same energy that brought me here. A sense of freedom and joy comes over me as I begin to move and I feel as if I am rising, freeing myself of flesh. I am totally vulnerable. My ego is absorbed into a larger self. I have no individual identity. I am defined in terms of my contribution to this entity. Elements of this experience have conspired to transport me to a place where all I do is feel the beautiful energy within the pulse - it is pure passion; pure joy; it is life itself. That experience is part of why I am at the Haunt today with my drum. The sun reflects off of the stillness of the lake. The air slowly moves around me like benevolent spirits. It is only me, my drum and the Lake. I try to asses her mood - what does she need today? Is she in a good mood? No matter her state, she always seems grateful for the massage the rhythms provide. As I begin to explore my rhythmic universe, my eyes close unconsciously. Akin to the clarity one experiences as the result of meditation, an incredible openness and sense of connectedness to myself, to the Lake, to the drum, to all things comes over me. This place is deeply familiar to me. I turn around to find a man and a woman with their young daughter. They tell me how much they enjoy my playing. I wondered why. I mean, I understand why, but I'm always fascinated by the deeper question of why people are attracted to and moved by rhythm. I believe it is because all living things are vibrating and are in some rhythm. Rhythmic beings gravitate towards rhythm. I thank them and tell them to enjoy the beautiful day. I begin my second rhythmic journey of the day with a big smile. After a while, I hear something behind me. Its about 8:30 am and my friend Jake has come out as usual to join in the drumming. When he plays he is able to create a voice that complements those around him. Several more people are now sitting in the area; some sunning, some just sitting, all apparently basking in the sun and rhythm. I wave to my friend Sam who is reading a book, his pointed sun hat casts an oblong shadow over the rocks. He seems to be drawn to this area by the energy we create with our rhythms. I wonder if he reads in time. I turn the other way to realize that there are a few drummers that have joined me. I say "hello" and introduce myself. This would be the start of today's drum circle. I begin by laying down a foundational rhythm. The new drummers feel what I am doing and add their voices to mine. One, a young woman, is small and looks rather timid. She smells of patchouli and wears a tie-dyed napkin on her dreads. She adds a part that speaks her language; with soft, small hands she speaks quietly. Another drummer is a large male, very outgoing and unabashed. His Chuck Taylor's seem to strain under his mass. The red, yellow and turquoise strap holding his drum looks like a warriors sash. His part is strong, with a heavy bass and confident tones. The other is another female who seems laid back. Her dress reaches the ground; she seems spirit-like - her movements flowing slowly like a viscous fluid; she plays a part that is repetitive, like a mantra. Together we soar into the rhythmic environment. After a while I give a signal and we stop together. We know each other better now. We communicated and bonded on a non-verbal level. Perhaps we bonded on a verbal level, but the words we used were not English or even spoken. We begin our second rhythm together. This time I ask one of the others to start the rhythm. Several more drummers approach and join us; a few minutes later, even more drummers and on-lookers arrive as if out of nowhere. I stop for a moment and look around. I see dark faces, light faces, young and old, male and female - all these people are called by the rhythm and are a part of this tiny community on the lakefront. We begin to play and the energy in the circle rises at the introduction of these new voices. Soon, I go to that familiar place where I feel I am flying, bodiless, faceless, moving around and among all the others. All of the sudden, the mood of the circle begins to sway and jerk and I feel uneasy. Something is wrong. The power of the pulse is leaking. I return to open-eyed consciousness to see what is going on. There is a drummer flailing his arms in a rapturous encounter with his drum, but he is not connected to the pulse. I subscribe to the notion that "time heals all wounds", and decide to wait a while to see if he would eventually fall into the groove. He does not. More people are opening their eyes, not knowing why until they hear the discordant element in our midst. He is not listening to us; he speaks only to himself. His energy level rises as everyone else's falls. He is now louder than everyone else and the energy of the circle has dissipated. The pulse is weak and unsure of itself and it slowly dies. This is about one person's world. He is not relating to those around him. He is not a part of our community. I don't think he is aware of his negative influence. Drumming has a tendency to tap into the deepest parts of ones psyche, whether we are aware of this or not. Drumming synchronizes the right and left brain and makes our inner-self far more clear, uninhibited and connected. To the person with a lot of anxiety or anger inside, drumming can release a lot of negative energy. I begin to play. Everyone listens to this single voice; the rhythm is reanimated. Drummers are speaking to one another using sounds made by carved wooden shells stretched with goat skin, instead of words. Their silences are as meaningful as their tones. All converge and the energy in the circle goes off the scale. People clearly begin to change their posture, vocalized bursts come at random, dancers appear, we are a single, powerful entity, living and breathing together. After a certain point, the energy reaches critical mass; it is too great and breaks apart. One by one people stop playing; it is clear that something great has ended. Everyone knows that something extraordinary has happened, but few know what or why. Someone says 'hey, that was awesome for a while there'. I think of various conversations, discussions and arguments I have witnessed in my life and see the same dynamics at work in the drum circle. There are people bonding and connecting while other people randomly stomp around not even aware of the dialog taking place around them. There are those devoted to preservation of the whole, those adding to the whole unknowingly, and those not aware of anything beyond their own world, either accidentally adding or accidentally taking away from the whole. If everyone were given a single focus, we would all come together. If everyone listened and added what was needed, drum circles and the world would be a much better place. This idea sets one of my main motivations as a drummer in stone: to spread the gospel of listening. By listening, connection, community and communication would come naturally and effortlessly. I begin to see drumming as much more than an activity. It is a metaphor for life. If people insist on existing strictly as individuals, with only a minimal connection to everyone else, they will build their own lives at the expense of the greater whole. Sam looks up from his book noticing the lack of rhythmic activity and signals to me with an invisible drum. I smile and pick up my drum. Jake begins to play. I listen and follow his lead. One by one, the rest of the drummers join in the conversation. Someone picks up a tambourine and begins dancing. Joggers, walkers and bikers pause in their activity forming a small crowd. A few people start to clap in time, others sway to the rhythm. No one is simply a spectator. The pulse draws everyone to participate. For a while we are speaking and listening together. For a while, we create a window into what life could be if we all listened more and created as one. |
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