A vacation in the woods leads to a lot of thinking. And drinking, sometimes. I may or may not have greeted the day with a morning
swig of Jameson straight from the bottle.
Let’s spend a few minutes together, and I’ll tell you what I
think, OK?
1) I think I adore my son.
I know that’s a no brainer, but bear with me on this one.
During Saturday night’s furious drumming, Wifefish brought
Little Danger and his little drum down to the Dome to hang out with Daddy. She sat him next to me in the sand,
surrounded by some of the best drummers I know.
He beamed. He gazed
at the fire and slapped that little drum one-handed, his eyes alight. I beamed.
I gazed at him and played little fills for him, little auditory “I Love
Yous” that he did not recognize as such, but one day likely will. (I can make Wifefish grin by playing a particular
little “solo” in the drum circle we frequent, even in a sea of 40 drummers). I grinned like the Cheshire Cat, and grooved
on.
The moment didn’t last, of course. The drums picked up speed and intensity, and
as his head was only inches from the bottom of my drum, where all the decibels
live, it got too loud for him toot sweet.
(OK, OK, tout de suite for you purists.)
But brief as it was, it was a moment we enjoyed, each for different
reason, but each completely.
I was worried that the trip might look like this, but he really enjoyed himself.
2) I think that nights spent with a drum under my hands,
dancers moving with their whole spirit, and woodsmoke scenting the air are some
damn good nights indeed. There’s a
moment in a drum circle that may not come in other musical venues, a time where
as a drummer you realize that a dancer has latched on to your specific
contribution to the rhythmic tapestry being played; this is especially cool
when the drum jam is free-form, and not specific polyrhythm.
I had some moments thus this weekend, one in particular with
an awesome free spirited chic, who just happens to be a god friend, who allowed
her movement to expand into the space in a fashion best described as “awesome.”
Suffice to say, it was anything but humbling to hear her
describe it, this new experience to her that I’d been on both sides of before.
We are all dancers, in our own way.
3) I think it’s wonderful to enjoy life’s rituals
together. Two dear friends got engaged
this weekend, a joyful event indeed.
Seeing the subtle way their demeanor changed as they stood together was
awesome as well, a subtle “something different”, a leaning into each other that
was just a tiny bit more, well, profound of a sudden. It will blend back into normalcy, but for a
day or two, it was glaringly obvious…and perfectly right.
4) I think I’m
blessed to have more than a small number of friendships that just exist in a
timeless state: no matter how much time goes by, we pick up as if we saw each other
yesterday. There’s no awkwardness, just
gladness in each other’s company. I can
think of six of these right off the top of my head. These are friends that do not live close by,
but with whom I remain close anyway, even given my horrible status as a poor
correspondent.
I’ve never analyzed what it is about these relationships
that hold them in near perfect stasis.
Perhaps they exist in some quantum state where observation destroys the
observed, and so I will remain willfully ignorant.
5) I think I abhor
cold nights while camping. It got down
to 40ish degrees both nights, and damp the second. It was fucking frigid. Granted, it wasn’t Hoth in January, but it
sure as hell didn’t feel like a Midwest May,
either.
We wrapped Little Danger up like a burrito between us,
rather than relegating him to his own cocoon.
Given that his head stays at pillow level, this meant periodic crotch
stomps were received by yours truly as he would stretch and flip. That I did not eat his face is testimony to
my devotion the child.
We made the choice not to use our tent heater, given that
red hot metal at floor level of a fabric domicile with a toddler in residence
makes just about as much sense as strapping a raving badger to your bare
genitals while juggling flaming chainsaws.
And so we suffered slightly, by which I mean that I cramped up like a
shock therapy patient who has pissed off his physician.
Still, the overall experience was in fact positive, and left
me with the firm feeling that my own bed, when returned to, was a little slice
of heaven.
So how was YOUR weekend?
Let me know what you think here in the comments…
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