I wondered what all the hoopla was about.
I decided to find out.
I signed up for a drumming session, as EVERYONE I know who drums LOVES it. Now that’s a recommendation!
Abbie Ehorn, Instructor: Photo courtesy of Abbie Ehorn @ www.abbiesmusicbox.com
Abbie Ehorn conducted the class at St. Elizabeth’s Hospital in Red Bluff. She’s a full-time elementary school music teacher during the week, so don’t ask me how she can possibly fit in a weekend class, but there she was, with her entourage of hand drums spreading across the floor.
Hmmm. How could these unpretentious-looking tubular instruments stretched with white covering produce such a thrill?
I was soon to find out!
As we dub dubbed our heartbeat on the drums something happened. I was transported to a place inside my mind where I was angry. I don’t know at whom or what I was angry about. Heck, I didn’t even know I was angry! But as I continued to drum, my dub DUBs turned into whack THWACKs. I was sitting next to Abbie, so I figured if my pounding became too vigorous for the drum she would let me know.
THWACK THWACK THWACK
The next rhythm made me want to get out of my chair and dance. I would have, too, except I wanted to drum!
Pat Tap Slide
Pat Tap Slide
Pat Tap Sliiiiiiide……
Drumming fever! I caught it and I think the only cure is to buy myself a drum! Or two.
I’ve already begun shopping. Haven’t quite found the right one yet, but I’m hopeful.
After all, if we truly desire that which is best for us, and best for all, it usually comes–sometimes when and how we least expect it. Like marching to the beat of a different drum. Sometimes that’s necessary to find out who we truly are. Like now. “They” tell me I am dying from cancer. Heck, I’m merely marching to the beat of a different drum, finding out who I truly am. And as I do, I’m finding the simple drumbeat of life. The one that beats with enduring vitality: