In late September 2007, I was invited to attend a special workshop to learn how to make a drum. Now, if you know me well, you know that I can dance up a storm, carry a jig, raise the roof - although I must admit my performances have ‘matured’ a bit!
Drum music has always carried a special place in my dancing heart as I was transported to a place within myself that knew dances I was never taught. The dancing was a joyous experience, bringing joy in hearing when people seeing me dance were also moved to a different place within themselves. I felt from an early time in my life, the drums speak to me and the earth under my feet move me to the right beats. Over my life, I have been fortunate to spin around many fires.
Still, I did not expect the absolutely amazing sense of empowerment that making a drum brought.
The Gift
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Embarking on a new endeavor is never simple, although one believes so at the outset, with the idea, and the image we create of our expectations. I had been two weeks into completing my business plan for a course I took this summer at the Renaissance Business Center in downtown San Francisco. I went to the Center in search of new energy to inspire birthing a viable creative media company. Leaving my desk for two days was at once a deserved break much desired, as well as a detour from what laid before me among looming deadlines.
As usual, my approach to change was lacking finesse and instead of arriving on time, I was instead rushing to my destination three hours late, flying like a bat out of hell (no offense to bats) to get out of the city and meet with my dear friend Charlene Sul who had invited me to attend. I felt disappointed in myself for having kept her and the other participants waiting.
Driving around the final bends of the journey to arrive at the workshop’s location, I chatted in the last miles by phone with my friend and fellow Maize Project supporter, Mary Hoffman, commenting along the last turns, as I drove closer to the destination, that it appeared I was driving straight into a fire whose smoke could be seen many blocks away. I was coming within feet of a grass fire that my son and I watched quickly spread up the hill. We saw people lined out on the Santa Rosa neighborhood streets we passed, punctuating the worry that this might be a real problem. It felt like a fitting cap to my stressful ride out of the city, transitioning myself from bustle mindset into relax, which of course was made harder with each lick of the flames moving steadily up.
As we stood from the tower of the house, we greeted the bomber with relief as the plane dropped retardant and the helicopter unloaded water above the flames. The host’s husband joined us with new information on the fire department’s progress, all of us sighing in relief as we watched the fire decrease quickly.
The wind gods were with us that day. Our workshop began on a dramatic note, a reminder of how important it is to make the most of every day, and to attend first to that which matters most in life. For me, family and connection with spirit through internal growth are what matter most. I am happy to report that this time, life smiled down on us and we were spared that day.
Like a child, birthing a drum is a powerful experience that I am reminded comes with responsibility to care properly for the drum and the intention in playing.
As I made the turn through the gates to the road leading to the house of the workshop’s host, I found myself behind a white car. To accommodate the descending fire truck, both our cars were quickly steered towards the shoulder of the narrow road that wound up the face of the ridge next to where the fire burned. The fireman warned me to go back down, dismissing that I was expected up in the house above. His cautionary nudge heightened my sense of danger and I felt the fight or flight adrenaline take over.
The driver of the white car had gotten out to talk with the fireman, and now approached my car. “Are you Catherine?.” Somehow, despite my delay, I had made it right in the moment of being behind this white car. The workshop’s host whose house was nestled in the northern California landscape said she first wanted to see how things looked from the tower before making a final decision, but quickly said if the fire got even a bit worse, we’d all head down immediately. Her calm shored up my nerve and I followed her up to the house. As the narrow road rose further up, it occurred to me that indeed we might be in danger if the fire moved quickly as this was the only road out. I determined to stay only five minutes unless it appeared the risk was decreasing. After all, I had my son to think about who traveled with me that day.
I am grateful to those who invited me in to share such a special weekend.
To Elizabeth Theriault who lead our birthing experience, and seen above next to my son, I want to thank you for hearing the call, facing the fear and granting us the knowledge kept so the beat will continue.
To my wonderful son Pablo, who constantly shows me the beauty of life and its many wonders.
I encourage anyone interested in a workshop in drummaking to contact Elizabeth at blessingways@yahoo.com. I can say from experience that the group bonding and self-awareness is something that can be applied to all aspects of our lives.
To my dear friend and guide, Charlene Sul, whose beautiful quilted vibrant colors show through her spirit and her prolific work as a quilt artist. Thank you to the delightfully creative Suzanne Starr Merner whose home cradled us for two days, and reminded me of the beauty that is California.
My drum is the one with the brown wisps on the front, which will forever remind me of the joy that can result from moving through the fire to empowerment.
On the way home that Sunday, driving through one pass along the winding Northern California landscape, I was transported back to a time when I lived in Santa Barbara, during college, and the many roads I drove in those days along the coast I had known ever since I was a child. I felt a connection to myself at a time in my life, and a joy so profound, I cried like a baby. The visions formed there and the awakening I had felt on that lake in Chumash land are intimately woven into the fabric of who I am today and what I seek to communicate through my work today. For that I am grateful.
