Sunday, September 25, 2011

Home

Boom Boom  Boom

I could hear the rhythm of the drum in the background as we moved through the stalls last weekend at the Portland Saturday Market.

Boom Boom Boom

I remembered seeing the young man beating his homemade drum set of plastic buckets and metal as we first entered the market.  His talent was obvious and little ones danced in the drizzle as the sounds grew faster and faster.  But this sound I was hearing did not have the same cadence. . . and he was a couple of streets over.  For lack of other explanation,  though, I attributed the beat to him.

Boom Boom Boom

We watched belly dancers swaying and jingling in the street where the MAX train tracks ran.  Mindless of the sprinkling drops, they moved in concert to their gypsy music in a circle.  Bangles around their hips and laughing faces, their dance was sensual and joyful, mesmerizing and contagious.  I marveled at their comfort in dancing with bellies of every shape.

Boom Boom Boom

The drum was louder than the dancers suddenly.  When we moved into position to catch the MAX back home, I found the source of the sound -  a circle of young Native American men sang and drummed under the highway overpass.  The domed space reverberated and magnified their song.

Boom Boom Boom

One young man's leather tipped stick was obviously the lead.  As the others beat together, he would come down with frightening force: BOOM BOOM BOOM.  The drum, resting on the tops of their shoes, rocked but the skin held taut and strong.  Listening to their song, watching the circle - women standing behind their men, joining the song when appropriate - transported me elsewhere.

Other times.  Other places. Sacred times when I have been privileged to be around the drum circle.  While many may have found their vocalizations unnerving or their drumming annoying, my whole being relaxed.  My breathing slowed and steadied.  The Divine washed over the drums, the circle and me.

BOOM BOOM BOOM

You are where you are supposed to be.  You are doing what I have called you to do.  You are beloved.

BOOM BOOM BOOM

I love you. I love you. I love you.

BOOM BOOM BOOM

A simple Saturday at the market in drizzling rain.  Belly dancers and Native drummers.  I am home.

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