This post is going to be rather long - there were a lot of firsts packed into the past three days.
Let's start with how it came about: My wife got a flyer from a friend about a local shaman/shamanka being at a spiritual gathering place nearby for this past weekend when we went to a singing bowl meditation there on Labor Day.
I had a vision while meditating to the singing bowls. (There were five, three crystal and two Tibetan metal.) In the vision, I was a raven in flight. I could feel the beat of my wings pushing the air, see the ground beneath me far below, feel the flow of air over my body.
I decided to go to the shamanic journeying workshop. A few days before we were to have the ceremonies, we were sent a list of things to bring. One of them was a drum. I suddenly realized that I had no drum. To a shaman, the drum is a living companion - your spirit horse, the vehicle that carries you into the Otherworlds. (For some forms of shamanism, it is a boat or canoe.) In any case, the rhythm of your drum facilitates the trance that allows you to journey.
I was looking online at music stores to find a drum that would have a similar sound to what I was finding on Youtube. Nothing at any of the music stores' web sites was close. There were many international percussion instruments that were beautiful, but none had the proper singing drone.
I tried my hand at crafting a drum from available items. A clean, empty paint can - produces a beautiful ringing, almost howling beat. Not right. The closest I was able to manage was a plain five-gallon Home Depot bucket. It has a deep, booming beat that was similar, but not quite there. I was going to go with the bucket. I made my own drum beater out of a 2.5" pine dowel rod about 18" long, stained Sonoma red, with a brown electrical tape grip, and designs burned into it with a magnifying glass and sunlight. The drum beater worked great, but it was getting dented on the hard plastic ridges at the edge of the bucket.
During my search of the night before online, I saw an instrument called claves - two wooden sticks - hardwood - that are beaten or rubbed together to make various sounds. I was thinking to use one a a drum beater with the bucket. It turns out they were a little too small. But there, in the percussion room at Guitar Center, was a pile of un-loved instruments marked for clearance. One of them was exactly the type of drum I needed. I picked it up, and on the first strike of my fingers, it sang. Clearly, the drum wanted me as much as I wanted it. I bought it for $26.00 to a strange look from the sales associate, and the comment "You're going with that?"
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| I named my drum "Thrum". Click on picture to view full-size. I spent the past three days using clear polyurethane to seal the leaf appliques onto the rim. |
I tried the drum out with my new home-made drum beater, and it was powerful. This drum has a beautiful, strong, deep voice! The drum has a rim of dark, dark hardwood, and a synthetic fiber skin. I had some beautiful stickers of Autumn leaves, so I put them around the rim. I am currently in the process of coating the band with clear gloss polyurethane to protect its leaves.
Yesterday was our journey circle. There were eleven of us, seven women and four men.The shaman leading us is named Paula Rosenfeld. She follows a mainly Ojibwe tradition. Paula had rattles and a few drums for those who didn't have their own.
We were holding the ceremonies and journeys at the home of Frank and Kristin, who have a beautiful home bordered by a marsh on one side, and a park on the other. Their side yard is large and mostly surrounded by trees. The weather was perfect, about 77 degrees and sunny.
Paula set out a cloth altar on the ground at circle's center - what South American traditions might call a mesa - and set upon it sacred objects. I had brought gifts for the spirits; a bottle of brandy, a fine cigar; red silk ribbons, and a opalescent marble. These were placed also upon the altar.
We started off going around the circle stating our names, a little about ourselves, and our intention for the day's journeys. Paula smudged the grounds and participants with sage burning in a turtle shell, and a large feather. After the smudging, Frank brought out his peace pipe. The real thing - with pipestone quarried by hand in Minnesota. We didn't pass the pipe. Frank filled it with tobacco, and sent prayers to all four directions and the spirits of the six directions - Hummingbird in the East, Coyote in the South, Bear in the West, and Bison in the North, Eagle in the Upperworld, and Mother Earth in the Lowerworld. We then drummed the beat of the six directions to call their spirits to aid us in our journeys. (Each spirit has its own beat.) I was drumming Eagle's beat, a rapid, continuous beat upon the drum's "sweet spot".
After this, we tightened the circle, and holding hands, did a Vedic breathing meditation to open the chakras. After the meditation, we kept our eyes closed while Paula set about calling our guides. At this part, I was moved by spirit to do the Eagle's beat on my drum, but very, very softly, so that it was barely audible. Paula later told me that she loved it; she had thought it was spirit drumming. Perhaps it was spirit moving my fingers - I am no expert drummer, I have no idea how I knew to do such a soft, unobtrusive and yet centering beat.
At this time, we set out to make our first journey. I did mine siting in a lawn chair, others were on yoga mats or chairs, mostly the mats. I used a green bandana to cover my eyes, and Paula drummed us into journey. Yolanda - lovely gentle spirit - played her beautiful crystal bowls the first two minutes. We were set to go only ten minutes, with a change in the drumbeat reminding us to return to the waking world.
In the first journey, Paula instructed us to start from a place we knew, one where we felt connected to nature. I knew it must be a beach, for I feel closest to Earth Mother when at the merger between sand and surf. It took me awhile to settle on a specific beach, but in the end I chose the shore of Lake Michigan just into the Indiana Dunes. It was a calm day, the water was like blue glass. I went into the water swimming. I was looking for a guide to appear. Suddenly there was a log floating in the water next to me. A bird alighted upon it. At first I thought it was a seagull, but no, it was a raven. I asked the raven if he could take me to Upperworld, and he said "Sure. Hold onto the log." I grabbed the log with both hands, and suddenly the raven was flying through the air with it held in his talons. I was like a trapeze artist flying through the air. The raven turned to me, and said "Next time, forest. I don't like this water stuff." Then the drum changed.
After this first journey, we sat in the closer circle and related our journeys to each other. It was decided then to move indoors to the basement because of ants, bright sunshine, and traffic noise.
After we settled into the basement, we went on our second journey. (I was right next to Yolanda's bowls for the second and third journeys. This was of immense help on these journeys.)
On my second journey, we were to inquire of our guides as to wht we were resistant about, faith, and something else I've since forgotten. I began this journey riding my bicycle along the prairie path, which is wooded with dappled sunlight. The raven appeared flying alongside me. (Riding my bicycle feels like flying to me.) I asked the raven to instruct me about resistance. He had me park my bicycle, and wade into a creek knee deep upstream. I could feel the current strongly against my shins. "That is resistance." said the raven. After that, the journey went subconscious, and I remembered nothing until the drumbeat changed to call us back.
We again went around the circle relating our journeys to each other. I am purposely not reciting what others told me of their journeys here; it is not my right to share without their consent.
The third and final journey of the day was to whichever world the guide wished to take us. I had no more than cranked the pedals of my bike three times than the power of Yolanda's crystal bowls singing had me in the Upperworld with the raven. I was seeing patterns of light and color, and patterns of gold and red ceramic and cloth, like ever-changing mandalas. I was taken briefly to a great hallway paneled with ancient wood, as long as the eye could see and more. There were many branches on either side. On each side were people sitting in fine chairs all lined along the hall .I knew these were my ancestors, and that this was just a brief introduction. Then we were back in Upperworld.
We went to a cave or room, I don't know which. My aunt Felicia was there. She is only 11 months older than I am, and we were very close as teenagers. I last saw her when I was fifteen. I am now fifty. She was diagnosed with full-blown schizophrenia when she was nineteen and institutionalized. She still is. She had a daughter the year before she was diagnosed, and her daughter is a wonderful young woman that I think very highly of. I told aunt Felicia that we all loved her, and missed her, and how proud she should be of her daughter and grandchildren. She listened, while she was there in her room, doing the things a young aunt Felicia would do, brushing her hair, singing softly, gazing out the window. I told her that if she wanted to come back, we would welcome her.
I turned to the raven and asked if he could heal her. His response was "Yes, but you're going to owe me a couple for this one." "Ok." I said. Then the raven said to me that I should open the brandy and leave it and the cigar in the crook of a tree outside, as he and the other spirits were going to need a party after dealing with all of us humans all day.
Just then there was a brass and yellow wood jar that I was told to open. Just as I took the lid off and vapors began to emerge, the drums changed.
There was a young tree outside where I had left a gift of cloth for the spirits, a bright red new bandana. I put the brandy and cigar there, opening the bottle and cutting the cigar.
There were many very heavy and deep stories after this journey. Several were moved to tears. I nearly was as I related speaking to my aunt. After this, we all went outside, and we gave a drum bath to the four journeyers most deeply-impacted, clearing their chakras with the spirit energy of the drums.
After this we packed up and said our goodbyes, thanking everyone for their roles in making it such a successful day.
I stopped on the way home and go the clear gloss polyurethane and a brush to seal the leaves on my drum, and started it as soon as I got home. I still have a few layers to do.
Today, I did my own cigar ceremony, thanking the spirits of the directions for their help before lunch. After lunch, I went to the mall to find dangles for the four holes in my drum. I wasn't sure what to get, but I knew I would find the right things when they were ready to come to me.
As I was walking into the mall, a raven literally flew by over my head.
I found two things, a raven key chain that I'll modify later for the drum, and a glass raven plate, about 10" square. I saw it and knew that it was to become the center of my altar. (Which I will going forward call a mesa.) I wasn't expecting to find this, or even looking to begin a mesa. It just happened. I know it is a gift from my guide.
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| Glass mesa. I've since added red silk ribbons and an opalescent marble. Click on the picture to view full-size. |
Finally, in closing, I will tell you that I do not yet know the name of my drum. It will come to me. In fact, I think it just did as I was writing this. I will call him Thrum. I already knew the name of the raven, however. He is Kutcha, the raven spirit of the Koryak shamans of Siberia and Northern Russia. Perhaps he came to me to help me connect to the Russians in my mother's biological ancestry.
I am deeply grateful for everything that happened this weekend, and for everyone, including spirits, that made it all possible.
Blessings be to All,
Dan
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