In addition to taking time off of just about everything else for most of the last week, while I was under the weather, I also missed my writing group last night. I was quite surprised when the very first friend I made there wrote me last night to ask about me. She said she hoped that I was out showing someone a house, and that's why I was unable to come read some of my writing to them. I was flattered that I was missed. And then I was thrilled, because she issued an invitation to do something totally different. One of the women from group has been taking a drumming class, and she was going to show us some of the things she learned. Another group member is a piano teacher, and she also has a collection of drums at her house, so it was the perfect setting for our little impromptu drum circle.
Our circle leader had a round Native American drum for her instruction, and the rest of us had different sizes of djembe drums. Apparently large djembes are what the classes usually use. We were taught a couple different hand positions and methods of striking the drums for different tones, and then we were off. She started getting us all to play as one by having us think sentences in rhythm, to remember where and when and how to strike. And then we went for it, repeating the same basic phrases for a minute or so at a time. It was surprisingly therapeutic. And we enjoyed the unity. I never really thought much about drum circles, ever, in my whole life. I mean I didn't spare them a thought. But now, I kinda get it. I see a little of the appeal of losing oneself in the rhythm, in a community of noise. I pulled my Scottish drum down off of the wall and decided I might play it a little when the house is too quiet. I need to practice before the girls and I get together again.
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