I wrote this in January 1999. Someday I’ll have to write the full story: "The Rise and Fall of Full Moon Drumming."
I remember how frustrated I was during the 80s. Not only had the original "back to the land" movement become passé, but I couldn’t even find people willing to drum or make music for an adequate length of time. Fortunately, since then a nationwide drumming movement has emerged, and drumming circles are everywhere. We started ours four years ago in Radium Springs, and it’s been a dream come true.
Each time we do drumming is different, depending on who shows up and what kind of energy we bring together. It took us a good two years to develop any kind of consistency and tradition, but it seems to have finally become a habit.
At one recent drumming, we had a hug fest extravaganza that was a new development for us. In fact, we had three hug fests that evening. The first one consisted of a dozen people hugging each other in a circle. People would take turns entering the center of the circle, so that they could be hugged by everybody at once. Such nice energy! The second one, later in the evening, was an evenly-balanced group of 6 people — 3 men and 3 women — who formed a circle hug that must have lasted for at least an hour. We sang songs and had a grand time. It occurred to me that we (baby boomers in our 40s and early 50s) were the last generation to all hear the same songs as we were growing up. So we had dozens of songs (mostly pop and rock) which we dredged up from our collective memory bank and shared with each other. Later, a whole new pack of people unexpectedly showed up, so we had our third hug fest. First, we had them form a circle around our circle and hug us, and then we formed a circle around their circle and hugged them back. It was our way of saying, "Welcome to the hug!" A snuggly and huggly time was had by all.
There are altered states, and then there are altered states. The most common by far, I think, is getting "jazzed up" — you dance and drum and howl and sing and whatnot, and your heartbeat increases, and your brain speeds up. You’re vibrating at a higher rate, and it’s a stimulating, joyous space to be in.
[I need to point out that most of us are (as far as I know) stone-cold sober during all of this. One reason the original counterculture never amounted to much was its overuse of drugs, particularly marijuana, which deceived people into thinking that their fantasies were real. (I should also point out that the present younger generation’s totally retro emphasis on alcohol is a tragic evolutionary leap backward. Marijuana, at least, can stimulate creative fantasies. Alcohol just dumbs you down.)]
Ours is a social drumming, with no overtly religious overtones. We aren’t specifically seeking the sacred, but occasionally "something" happens. Once, a year or so ago, some of us entered what I would call "the creative flow," and lived there for awhile. Others might call this a "magical state of being," in which there is a tangible presence of what I would call "the holy spirit." What made this possible, I think, is that we had such a small group (the larger the group, the harder it is to maintain any kind of focus), and the fact that we had a stringed instrument.
A plucked musical note, in my experience, can penetrate to the center of one’s consciousness much more easily than the thump of a drum, and a continuous, yet constantly changing, series of notes can create a wondrous state of mind. I think it’s fascinating to notice that the pendulum has swung from a guitar emphasis (during the counterculture days) to the primitive, drum-only emphasis we have today. I wouldn’t be at all surprised to see more music in the future, which will enhance the drumming.
Anyway, to continue with my story, there were 5 of us — a dulcimer player (me), a drummer, two dancers, and a fire tender. For whatever reason, all the energies were right that night. The experience lasted about an hour (but hey, who was keeping track of the time?) and was a very quiet, gentle happening — magical music, slow dancing, and a small fire. Afterwards some of us compared notes, and the feeling was, "Wow! That was really special!" What I particularly like is how the psychological effects of such an event can linger for days afterwards. You could build a life around this kind of stuff! Which is no doubt why "primitive" people do it so frequently.
