Day 17...not as wild as I once was!

I seem to have mis-dated my page, though!

Heat really gets to me, after a run-in with heat exhaustion about ten years ago, so I have to time my outdoor activities in the summer with that firmly in mind.  This night, the heat and humidity were marginal--I almost didn't go with Joseph to Rocky Hollow, but I was delighted I DID.

The early-evening light made long shadows where I could hide...

I often wear a damp kerchief around my neck when it's hot out...a trick my ancestors knew well.  Occasionally I spray myself with water from my little watercolor kit, too...but when there's no breeze at all, that's not a huge help.

We are designed so our sweat will cool us as it evaporates, but on humid days that just doesn't happen...I feel as though I'm coated with rancid yak butter.  I find my inner journeying somewhat derailed by not being able to breathe properly...

The wee fan fits right in the drink holder, and can be aimed almost anywhere I need it.

Teeny-tiny technology to the rescue!  I am never above combining modern solutions with my re-wilding if it lets me enjoy the inner journey a bit longer, and in more safety--heat exhaustion is no joke.

The fan is rechargeable and works a treat--a little lifesaver...

Knowing our limitations is part of the journey...

I've been reading Elizabeth Gilbert's The Last American Man, about Eustace Conway, an amazing, brilliant, and committed man who lived close to the land and hoped to turn America around to his vision by sheer will and energy--and commitment.  It's a fascinating book, and I've done some of the things Conway espouses...but yes, at my age I need my AC, and my fans, and a comfortable bed!

Weather changes, and so do I...Drumming, ancient crafts, Day 15

I was taken by the notion of making my own when I got to play and hear The World Drum, which has traveled all over the world, from hand to hand.  It has been played in ceremonies and quiet celebrations and riotous dancing, and seems a miracle of worldwide cooperation in these turbulent times.  It brings peace to the heart.

For more of its amazing story, read this from Morten Wilf Storeide.

My first still goes everywhere with me...

 

My drums absorb the moisture in the air, changing tone day by day, hour by hour--I sympathize!  The weather affecs me greatly as well.  Their voices become lower and lower these humid days--and less resonant--and finally, soft and flat.  I warm and dry them as ancient peoples have done for eons, and once again their voices rise and ring and resonate, each with its own mysterious song.

The rawhide still carries within it the life of the deer and elk that once walked the land; the wood of the rims was born of stately trees that grew tall and took nourishment from the earth...as do we all.

I have loved making my own drums...and will make at least one more.  The most recent I call my healing drum; the rim of ash wood reminds me of my ancestors and of Yggdrasil, the World Tree of old Norse tales.  The hide was a gift from a friend, who prepared it himself.  And each step of the process was meaningful, respectful, and sacred.  The big elk drum is the family drum...Joseph plays it too and loves the deep rich sound.

Each one is different, and sounds different.  Each has its own demands, and resonates in its own way.