The Drum

As I passed the circle for the first time drum beats rose into the air. The little shop was full of the instrument of rhythm and I joined the throbbing circle with my numbered skin.

I needed this. I needed therapy and this was my cheapest option. Driving home in a sated state I knew that I’d be back, where I could hide and hit and thump and play.

At the end of the year and the last drumming circle of 2008, I clutched the birthday money and knew I’d have one of my own. The drums and digiridoos that I had left behind left a sickly feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I didn’t realise how much they were and when I put my large hand on the drum that I could afford, my fingers reached over the edge. I decided to double the amount to R800 but was worried about December coming up with no work.  I could see the size that I needed and although it was still a little small, it was perfect. I dilly dallied with the sizes. I brought up one drum and then another asking the size and price. Mine was in the mix but R300 more than I could afford. I kept asking and swopping drums and the crowd in the shop grew. As soon as the lady gave me an R800 price on a R1100 drum, I literally shoved the money into her hand and was chuffed that I had got “a bargain”.

I pushed the reality of what I’d done deep down under my anger and entitlement. I justified my deception and thought that in the great scheme of things it was very minor.

It never worried me, I forgot about it, until I bought a new drum that I could well afford. That night started pricking lightly at my mind. My heart was healed and I had been on a roller coaster ride of amazing healing and self discovery.  I had red beads tied on the first drum and couldn’t put red beads on the new drum.  The red beads were symbolic of my “bleeding time”, my grief, over the loss of my old life.

My ex-husband got engaged last Sunday. I felt complete release and freedom, a welcome reaction and measuring stick of my spiritual growth over the last 6 years.

I knew that week that I had to get to drumming, although I didn’t connect these two events.

When I realised the drum was gone I was strangely calm. I went to tell my friends that I thought it had been lifted and in support of my loss sent the thief many curses of damnation, lambasting him with bad luck for years to come and many awful things to happen. Right at that point I knew that it was unfair and I confessed to them and begged them not to send bad vibes to the sweeper of my last chapter.

I then posted a pic of the drum on the social media and made it public. I received a barrage of pity for me and fury at the thief. Another spiritual friend reminded me that their karmic debt and all curses sent would be added to mine if the drum wasn't mine in the first place. I'm truly grateful to him. I deleted the post.

.....it was time to confess.

I’m embarrassed and very sorry. I had in the six years come to feel so much for the owner and his family, which made this even worse. I also know that this is perfect in the plan for more depth and understanding of how the karmic wheel turns and how gracious and stupendously precise universal discipline is.

I let the “bleeding drum” go with love and know that the next person will learn the lessons that are so exacting if they are interested to learn and grow, and make restitution, even if it takes 6 years.