Renewed by Surprise

I haven't ever sought out a drum circle. Nor have I ever participated in a program led by a man with dredlocks all the way down his back. I did both those things at Kripalu and found myself renewed in a way I'll never forget.

"Let's make some noise at this yoga center!," said our leader, Shaun J. Laframboise, of the KDZ Drummers. Shaun or one of his colleagues lead drum circles at least once a week at Kripalu. Guests looking for some release from all the quiet and intentionality can pull up a seat--and a hand drum.

I almost didn't go, but at the last minute decided to give it a try. I have a list of four practices I find renewing (see the description of my sabbatical plans at the top of the blog), and drum circle isn't on it.  I had my doubts.

"When you put two grandfather clocks in a room together," Shaun told us, their pendulums eventually start swinging in sync. No one knows why. The only theory that has held up over time is that things go better when we work together.

The same is true with drumming, an ancient form of community building practiced around the world. When people repeat even the most basic rhythms together something mysterious happens: they get in tune with each other and with themselves. As the beat goes on, people smile. They laugh. Sometimes they cry. There's a sacred, elemental, moving quality to drumming that draws out the spirit of life.

As I got more comfortable with the rhythm Shaun taught us, I closed my eyes.  I didn't want to see the other participants. I just wanted to listen to my own beat, in tune with theirs. At least for the moment.

"May you be surprised by what finds you," someone said, just as my sabbatical began. I already have been.