Finding my way back to music
At the age of 11, timidly and hopefully, I walked into the music room of my school and asked if I could be a part of the drum class that year. I wanted to learn how to become a voice in a larger chorus of voices. But he said no, something along the lines of “Sorry, we don’t have enough room for you.”
I never joined a band again. But in following the passion for music that never left, I’ve played music with others all over the world. Usually, though, I find myself on my own, learning to play different sounds and rhythms that I hear on recordings or in concerts.
Eventually, I learned to mimic the sounds of other musicians I liked and slowly began to hear the music of more than just humans. Slowly, I started to hear a musical world that was even bigger, a rhythm chorus that always makes space for me, this wave of sound and dance and communication between all Life.
And in my attempts to mimic these sounds, the song I heard emerges and then vanishes like wisps of clouds disappearing into the warmth of the sun. Sounds returning in another form, in some other moment, only to fall silent again, unwilling to be captured by the parts of me that don’t know how to be in reciprocal relationship. Those parts that bear the weight of forgetfulness that comes from not being of the place I live and the song it’s singing.
My Grief and longing have drawn me back. Up the mouths of rivers into creeks and springs, back toward a Home I can’t quite remember. It’s a slow path, whose steps are not measured in how far they take me but in the quality and presence of the movement. And so in my longing to hear the music I feel in my body, I move slowly through the world, listening for the small sounds of Life amongst the loudness of society and singing out in praise and gratitude to the stories of the Forest.
I want to be a part of that band from so long ago in my imagination, a voice in a chorus of voices. So I’ve begun to form it slowly, with the help of others who are interested in remembering this music; creating a space for play and expression to flourish. I’m watching as we begin to find our unique voices and roles within the larger group. I long for Home. And wish I could dance my way back there. But first, we need the music.
