Drumming, Neopagan Style

A local writer experiences a drum circle for the first — but not last — time

As my 14-year-old son and I stumbled along the trail through tall pines and undergrowth to the flicker of firelight ahead, I half wondered what I had gotten us into.

Micah Harding, drum instructor and founder of Anansi Rhythms, had asked us to join him at a drum circle at Sacred Groves on Bainbridge Island. Sacred Groves is a mystical retreat comprising 10 acres of forested land at the end of a dead-end road. Inhabited by a handful of free spirits, Sacred Groves is devoted to "community healing" through earth- based spiritual traditions, rituals, healing work, music, learning and prayer. The retreat hosts at least a half-dozen events each month, ranging from women’s groups and grief ceremonies to summer campouts and festivals.

Micah had invited us to one of the Groves' seasonal drum circles, in this case called "Drum Journeys Ecstatic Dance," featuring Afro-Caribbean drumming and dancing. Micah is a frequent visitor to these drum circles, often joined by other well-known local drummers such as Tom Brighton and Simone LaDrumma.

A drum circle is a group of people playing hand drums and other percussion in a circle, usually accompanied by singing and dancing. Rather than a rehearsal or musical performance, drum circles are distinctive in that the circle is an end in itself — brought together for all of the participants. Drum circles in the West have caught on like wildfire in recent years and can range from "corporate circles" that stress worker bonding and cooperation to "spiritual circles" meant to restore inner harmony.

Micah told me ahead of time that the Groves' drum circle would be a spiritual circle and somewhat "pagan."

Wikipedia describes a "Neopagan drum circle" as a festival in which "people gather around a large bonfire, the drummers generally sitting on one side to encourage better listening. The musicians sit together and play while dancers dance and circle around the fire. Often, those present will stay and play throughout the night until dawn, treating the evening as a magical (or alchemical) working. Sound is not limited to drumming alone; there is also chanting, singing, poetry, and spoken word pieces."

Additionally, Micah said there would be drummers of all skill levels. Still, as we left the woods and entered the clearing, I was surprised by the diversity of people in attendance. There were people of all ages, from small boys and girls to men and women of "very mature" years, as well as different ethnicities represented. There were families, couples and singles. A few were dressed in flowing robes; others, in jeans or shorts. Some were huddled in blankets since the evening was cool, but many also were barefoot.

Micah was one of the first to take up his drumming position. He waved from a bench where he sat with his drum between his knees, hands poised at the ready.

Within minutes,  a few other drummers left the bonfire and joined Micah on the surrounding benches, picking up hand drums — which were scattered around the meadow — as they went. The benches and a few lawn chairs were set up in the round and formed the outer edges of the circle. An older, matriarchal type woman took her place on a bench at the top of the circle and established the first rhythm, pounding it out slowly and deliberately. Micah and the other drummers joined in and began to embellish the rhythm with their own beats.

The pulse drew more drummers and then dancers. Soon, the circle was resonating in a hypnotizing cadence of sound and movement that echoed in the wooded hollow. As the drums played on, more dancers joined the group and soon lost themselves in total abandon.

Looking at times like a kokopelli, a young woman curled forward into an embryo-like position and then snapped back with her arms and legs thrown wide.  Another swayed with her eyes closed, her feet shuffling in the grass. An older woman marched round and round the circle with head bent, oblivious to those around her.  A man in a full-length Dashiki robe wrapped his arms around the woman with him, and the two began rocking side to side.  A barefoot little girl in a chiffon summer dress grabbed the hands of her mother and drew her into the circle, where she did pirouettes beneath the woman's towering arms. Several older children then joined hands and began twirling in dizzying circles.

As the beat wore on, drummers sometimes deserted their instruments and entered the dance circle, only to be pulled back again by the pulsating rhythms. At times, someone would approach the mic, which was set up on the edge of the circle, and sing out. At other times, the beat would stop, signaling the end of the song, and then another would start up again at the direction of a drummer.

The tones, emanating from so many drums in unison, bounced off the surrounding tree trunks and rumbled in my rib cage and beneath my feet. I was surprised to learn that I not only could hear and see the drumming but also physically feel it. It was strangely soothing, like an affirmation of my own heartbeat.

The rhythms sometimes were intricate, causing the drummers' hands to disappear in a blur of motion over their drumheads. As the night grew blacker, the drummers, dancers and singers became silhouetted against the firelight. The scene reminded me of documentaries I had seen about tribal ceremonies in Africa and Latin America. It looked primal. It sounded primal. It felt primal.

Several of the dancers and drummers invited us to participate in the festivities. But we were planted in place, mesmerized by the scene before us and unwilling to break the trance.

Eventually,  we were forced to leave the meadow by a swarm of mosquitoes that, interestingly, didn't seem to bother any of the drummers but left us with a mass of welts. We wondered: Had the deep rumble kept the insects away from the drum circle? Or was there a force of nature in the circle that protected the drummers and kept "bad spirits" at bay?

We left the clearing at the end of one of the songs. As we entered the woods with the firelight at our backs, the drums began pounding again in steady rhythm, and someone started to sing …

We knew the song would continue long into the night …

—Tammy Adamson-McMullen