Join Phil and Lynne and go deep into the woods to "birth" your own drum under a sacred Yew tree. This unique experience is run throughout the year on a one to one basis or in small groups.One of the most important tools you will ever need as a shaman is the drum, the spirit horse to take you on the journey to the other-worlds. The crafting of your first drum is like the birth of a child, an experience that fills you with both wonder and love.
When asked to make a drum with someone the first step of that process is to ask them for what purpose they want to bring this “being” into the ordinary world. As an Animist I view my drums and rattles as living things, so it is important that I understand their intent.
To make a drum is easy, to make a shamanic drum that will enable its caretaker to travel outside of ordinary reality is a skill that few people possess.
I make frame drums, the skin is Red Deer or Fallow, I prefer the person I'm teaching to make the drum themselves, and often I make one at the same time. Whenever possible the drums are crafted under the Yew tree that I work with. The Yew is the Axis Mundi of my Shamanic Druidry, the tree of rebirth and ancestral memories.
The skins come from the same herd of deer, and as our drums have grown in number over time they have created a tribe, or herd. Many times, in the drum circle we run here in Kent, people have commented that they could hear the Stags calling to each other as the rhythm flowed; it's like a song beyond the drumming.
The Birthing Process
We start by soaking the deer skin in pure water taken from an ancient spring head on the marshes near were I live. The person making the drum is asked to bring with them plants and herbs that they feel connected to so these can be added to the water and the skin washed with them.
Next, the maker sands the hoop; with this process they get to not only put their energy into the frame but get to know its very bones. After this we make a paint of Red Ochre and water and this is smeared onto the hoop with their fingers; for me this symbolises the blood of the drum. So, now we have the blood and the bones of our drum. The skin is then removed from the water and thanks are given to the stag who’s life was sacrificed, holes are punched around the skins edge and the hoop is placed on top ready for lacing up. We use sinew rather than raw hide strips as these become the vocal cords that allow my drums to sing.
Next, the maker sands the hoop; with this process they get to not only put their energy into the frame but get to know its very bones. After this we make a paint of Red Ochre and water and this is smeared onto the hoop with their fingers; for me this symbolises the blood of the drum. So, now we have the blood and the bones of our drum. The skin is then removed from the water and thanks are given to the stag who’s life was sacrificed, holes are punched around the skins edge and the hoop is placed on top ready for lacing up. We use sinew rather than raw hide strips as these become the vocal cords that allow my drums to sing.
Then I ask the maker to put their hands back into the Red Ochre before they begin stringing the drum as this imitates the natural birthing process and they become the midwife at the birth of their drum. When the threading is done, then comes the tensioning; this is something I normally take over as it takes skill and intuition to make sure that skin and tension will work together.
When all this is finished we put the drum aside and start on the beater, the heart that makes the drum come alive. I only work with the indigenous trees of Britain so discuss with the drum-maker beforehand what tree they would like to make the beater from. I ask the person to find their beater stick before they make the drum so he or she can spend time with the tree of their choice. Making that effort is what it's really all about.
Once both beater and drum are completed they are blessed over a fire and a ceremony is performed to awaken and welcome the drum to this world. When the skin has dried (usually 3 to 4 days) it is time for the maker to journey with it and meet the spirit of their drum for the first time.
The hoop is the bone
The Ochre the blood
The hide the voice
that calls to Spirit
Yew baby artwork by Tina Swale @ www.astrocal.co.uk
The Ochre the blood
The hide the voice
that calls to Spirit
Yew baby artwork by Tina Swale @ www.astrocal.co.uk
I asked Phil to birth my drum a little over a month ago. My partner of 12 years died last year and I wanted to incorporate a small stone, which was taken from the beach where I cast his ashes into the sea in a salt urn, into the beater. As I felt the drum should act as a drum between this world and the next, the addition of the stone seemed appropriate.
ReplyDeleteWhen the drum first arrived, I felt that it should acclimatise itself to its new home and surroundings - I live in the Highlands of Scotland. I left it next to a pair of stag antlers in a room on its own for a couple of days before feeling that it was ready to be played. The yew beater has a perfect balance, it strikes the drum without too much effort, as if the drum is playing itself. There are a variety of very deep tones spread across the drum and it didn't take too much to journey quite deeply; the drum guiding how the rhythm should unfold. I was right to wait a number of days before playing it - it needed to relocate itself in time and space to its new surroundings in the Highlands, to tune in and start to speak the language of the surrounding mountains, loch and burns and I could also hear the song of the stags which live in the forest behind the house.
The drum acts as a portal - it is only for playing on certain occasions and with a deep respect. The skin stretched across the head contains many images seen if used as a focus for meditation - wolves run across its surface; so far I have counted nine with a large wolfs head containing the smaller figures. It is part of a larger 'herd', when one drum sings, the other drums hear and respond. Each time the drum is played, the song of the others can be heard responding in harmony. Before I asked for the drum to be birthed, I felt guided to tell Phil a little about what the drum was for - this is an important part of the drum's birthing process. I am glad I was absolutely clear in my intentions as the drum fully lives up to its promise.
The relationship with the drum is in its formative stages. A new child that is learning to speak - I too am learning its language, which is an ancient and almost forgotten speech which I am now slowly remembering. This is not a musical instrument, but rather a teacher, a guide on deep journeying into the landscape and a friend when walking through the portal and into the world of Spirit. A serious commitment to enter into. You might just find a wolf curled up at your feet every time you pick it up to communicate with it...:)
I’d long since been an admirer of Phil’s work and I wanted to go on a drum birthing day but work pressures made this impractical. I decided instead to ask for Phil to birth a 15 inch fallow drum in my stead. I’ve very glad I did.
ReplyDeleteNot only is it (and the birch beater) utter works of art but they simply burn with energy and spirit.
So much so that, if I’m honest, it was frightening at first. For the first few days I mostly wanted to sit with it. Examining the texture of the skin – playing it gently and little at a time.
This however is a drum that wants to journey. Its voice is powerful and strong, old but young. It wants to journey with me and show me the world anew. May we grow and journey together.