Drumming

Be careful what you ask for. I wanted cooler weather and looks like we're going to get us some for a few days, which is fine except that it sets off this fibro-thing, creating aches from the shoulders to the soles of the feet. It's overcast today, in the forties, but I see some low-thirties and twenties in the forecast for the weekend.  I'm hoping to finally light a fire in the casita wood stove for writing group this weekend.  The wood has been stacked in there for two years, waiting for a chance to be ignited.

The film, The Visitor, made me return to a former interest.  Maybe it's my partial Cherokee heritage, maybe not, but I've always had a hunch that I'd love drumming.  I bought a Native American drum once at the Taos Pueblo made of beefalo hide, a combination of buffalo and cow hide, but I've long since given it to Elena and Nathan.  So today I'm researching drums online and hoping to find another so that Elena and I can start drumming lessons (I'll teach myself a bit online so I can be the teacher) for her fifth birthday this month.

I love the sound of gentle shamanic drumming, and I'm planning to join Kate and Charlotte's drum circle this month.  Until I find my drum, I'm using a simple toy drum that looks like a lollipop, one I found on Amazon for about $10.  I've been playing it tonight and its sound is, well, quite drum-like.

Etsy has beautiful drums, handmade from all over the world, but I'll wait and invest in a handheld drum or djembe until I find out if I'm going to stick with it.

Drumming, some say, has healing powers.  There's a community drum circle at Synergy on Thursday nights.  Maybe I'll pop in tomorrow with my plastic lollipop drum and see if they'll let me play.