Wings of Heaven on My Shoes

“We learn wisdom from failure much more than from success. We often discover what will do, by finding out what will not do; and probably he who never made a mistake never made a discovery.” ~ Samuel Smiles

I have a thing about drum music – always have.  Which is kind of funny because I’ve never had a really good conscious understanding of rhythm.  Even funnier given that I spent my sophomore year in the percussion section of the band.

What can I say – I liked drummers… 😉

In my first semester of grad school, I had the option of taking a class entitled, “Drum Time, Dream Time, Drama Time.”  OOH, three favorites all wrapped up in one course.  I couldn’t wait.

Class was held in a space called “The Cave,” a windowless meditation space that had been used for a variety of ceremonies over the school’s history.  The silence in the room was audible, and the air was thick with good vibes…

Awesome

There were 9 of us in class; the first day, the teacher Bruce stood us in a horseshoe behind the tall djembe drums.  He taught us our first rhythm, and we were off.  Week after week, we added to our drumming vocabulary; the patterns becoming more and more complicated.  Bruce would divide us into groups and we’d have to maintain our own rhythm amidst all the others, while his snare drum soared above them all.

I loved it… and I was completely frustrated.

Every week, Bruce would gently remind me (again) that I needed to keep my eyes open.  “Feet grounded,” he’d say in response to my unconscious tapping.

He explained that in the Afro-Cuban tradition, religious ceremonies often included both drummers and dancers.

“It is the drummer’s job to stay grounded, so that the dancer can dance the space between and make contact with the spirit world.  The drummer provides the tether so the dancer can find their way back to this plane.”

“Eyes Open, Tara!”

Somewhere around week 5, Bruce was once again waxing poetic about the job of the drummer when he caught me shaking my head.

“What’s going on?” he asked me.

“I get what you’re saying, “ I answered, guiltily.  I wasn’t even aware that I had been disagreeing – talk about the body giving you away!  “It’s just that I don’t feel grounded when I’m drumming.  My entire head feels like it’s full of helium.”

“Ok,” he said, “come out here.”  He pulled me into the center of the circle.  “Now, all I want you to do is follow the helium… close your eyes, and let yourself go.”

And he signaled the class to begin the day’s rhythm again.

I stood, surrounded by drum music, and I surrendered myself to it, following the lightness in my head.  My body began to move, hips swaying, feet tapping.

And then the snare began its song, and I lost all control over my physicality.  I couldn’t NOT dance.

There was a part of me, the observer, who in the midst of all this was able to note that I had no power to stop.  It even pointed out that this whole event was an awful lot like that scene from Wayne’s World where Garth sees the beautiful woman and, with Foxy Lady playing in his head, loses control over his pelvis, shaking and gyrating in his attraction for her.

Part of me giggled, while the rest of me danced… the drum held me captive, while at the same time it liberated me. I had been given permission to let go, and I actually felt the lines that had been binding me release.  Just like a hot air balloon that’s lost its ballast, I shot skyward.  I can’t explain it any other way than to say that I danced myself off the planet.

It was my first taste of real freedom, and gave me a clue as to my spiritual identity.  Classes or not, training or no, in the spirit world, I am a Dancer.

It took me three days to touch down again, though I never did regain the same sense of being super glued to the ground.  Today, my grounded ness is a choice born out of a love for being embodied rather than a defensive measure aimed at keeping me safe.

And Dancing is still my fail-safe method for connecting to the All-That-Is.  It is a solace and a gift.

All it took was admitting what I wasn’t.

“Happiness, that grand mistress of the ceremonies in the dance of life, impels us through all its mazes and meanderings, but leads none of us by the same route.” ~ Charles Caleb Colton