This is the Dunduns. The drums that keep the constant heart pounding beat. It seldom changes. It is the rhythm I walk to, play to, eat to and go to sleep with it vibrating through my soul. It is like my own heart has changed it's normal rhythmic beating to this new one, sending my life blood through my body in step with this vital new life rhythm. It is the rhythm.
With eyes closed, I dance, I twirl, I sing, I drum. Every hand on the drum fills me up. Every pulse fills me up. My hands know where to hit the drum, my body dances of it's own will, my voice joins other voices. My heart is beating with the rhythms. I am becoming them, they me.
These rhythms that have taken over me. They mean nothing, they are everything. They don't pay bills, find lost children, bring back the dead, protect us from harm, or fix our problems . They are but a hand beating a drum. They are a memory to hold on to, a place of peace, of perfection. They are a time of so many souls working together in unison, heart beating the same rhythm.
I sink into the rhythm. I forget the heart ache of last year: The constant fear for my youngest daughter. The hopelessness of watching the man I love, live dejected, heart broken for his life right now. The anguish of seeing my oldest daughter so hurt, so torn up on the inside, soul broken, deciding she is worth only what the world throws at her. I have carried all this in my heart for so long. Just for the moment I can be the rhythm, I can escape. I can heal. I celebrate. I have the rhythm in me to go on.
I feel the Holy Spirit in this place. It beats a rhythm of GOD. I feel HIM here everywhere. The buildings vibrate with love. The chapel pulses with' "I am here. I am here. I am here....," The old growth trees with moss hanging from their branches watch over me with wise and knowing eyes. The "Little Hudson", the Boulder River, the rain (so much rain): These waters they wash my sin of despair away. They tug and grab and wash this heavy yoke on my shoulders, that has been holding me down, the one I cannot seem to let go of, away. As long as I am in camp I am healed. I am free.
I am free to dance, to twist, to sweat. I am free to feel young, tall, skinny, sexy. I am free to think that I am a good drummer. I am free to feel the drum, to move. I am free to be a little out of control. I am free to celebrate life. I am free to close my eyes and let the voices and pulses of the morning choir fill me.
I am free to let my heartache out. I am free the let the tears I have held on to for so long out. These tears I cannot stop them. The exotic pulse of the didgeridoo, the dgembe, the drone, the voices, they consume me. My tears they flow, they make their own river on my face, they drop to my lap. I let them. I am free to cry.
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