Another Night on the Bridge

The night began, as most, with a certain awkward searching for

spirit in the music. We stumble along, trying out one rhythm

and another and another, floating in a sea of chaos, occasionally

washing ashore as an island of group sound coalesces around a

rhythm that somehow expresses something of spirit. We rest

together there for awhile. Resting in these islands of group

sound deepens the connection that we feel with each other, and

primes us to connect more deeply with spirit within ourselves.

The islands become larger and more real with each landfall.

This night, as usual, there came a breakthrough moment for me, when

I began to sing through the drum, when my emotions began to be

expressed directly in the pitch, rhythm and innuendo of my hands

striking the drum. This is the moment when technique begins to

take care of itself and expression becomes everything. The drum

becomes the voice of spirit. Whenever this happens, when spirit

finds its voice, I become a spring of the water of life, and

it doesn't just happen for me. It seems that we all reach this

state of mind together -- those of us who are the music. One

way or another, when I and my drum become the voice of spirit,

of life, the group mind begins to breathe and sing and dance

and thrill to its self-awareness.