Appearing and Vanishing
Dear Drummers,
Welcome all, welcome newcomers and old-comers, welcome rhythmically proficient and groovlically challenged, welcome to anyone who wants to set in motion their hands, their arms, their bodies, and most important, their life-loving, love-living, ever-pulsing Spirit, that Spirit coursing through you that loves your Earth and earths your love! Welcome, welcome to drumming this Friday, June 5th.
The photo above is a robin’s nest that seemed to suddenly appear on the second-story window sill of our house two weeks ago. Ten days ago, these eggs appeared. A few days ago, two gooey, trembling almost-birds appeared. A couple of days ago, fully feathered small robins seemed to replace the previous occupants. This morning the nest was empty. Tonight, while playing catch with my two boys in the front yard, a sudden explosion of bird screeches made us run to the back yard where we witnessed no less than six robins attacking, as mightily as they were able to, a large, dark bird. They all scuttled through the shadowed branches of the giant elm, appearing here, disappearing there, until finally the large bird swooped out – maybe a Cooper’s hawk – I’ve seen him fly through our yard low several times lately, gliding low past the living room window – or maybe it was a crow. In the large bird’s mouth, a trembling baby robin. A few muscular flaps of its long wings, and the dark bird was gone, skimming just out of reach of the tree tops, the community of robins only able to watch: stunned, quiet, empty as the sun sank down.
And so it goes, this life in which each and every one of us eats, and each and every one of us becomes food.
And so we drum.
Addendum: This morning I awoke to the sound of small wings fluttering against the window. I looked out, and there I saw the mother robin, perched in the nest - preparing it for the next brood? Robins typically have two broods per season, sometines three. On it goes, this dance between eros and thanatos, the life force and death force, both of whom sing to us at each moment. On it goes, on and on.
And so we drum together.
Welcome all, welcome newcomers and old-comers, welcome rhythmically proficient and groovlically challenged, welcome to anyone who wants to set in motion their hands, their arms, their bodies, and most important, their life-loving, love-living, ever-pulsing Spirit, that Spirit coursing through you that loves your Earth and earths your love! Welcome, welcome to drumming this Friday, June 5th.
The photo above is a robin’s nest that seemed to suddenly appear on the second-story window sill of our house two weeks ago. Ten days ago, these eggs appeared. A few days ago, two gooey, trembling almost-birds appeared. A couple of days ago, fully feathered small robins seemed to replace the previous occupants. This morning the nest was empty. Tonight, while playing catch with my two boys in the front yard, a sudden explosion of bird screeches made us run to the back yard where we witnessed no less than six robins attacking, as mightily as they were able to, a large, dark bird. They all scuttled through the shadowed branches of the giant elm, appearing here, disappearing there, until finally the large bird swooped out – maybe a Cooper’s hawk – I’ve seen him fly through our yard low several times lately, gliding low past the living room window – or maybe it was a crow. In the large bird’s mouth, a trembling baby robin. A few muscular flaps of its long wings, and the dark bird was gone, skimming just out of reach of the tree tops, the community of robins only able to watch: stunned, quiet, empty as the sun sank down.
And so it goes, this life in which each and every one of us eats, and each and every one of us becomes food.
And so we drum.
Addendum: This morning I awoke to the sound of small wings fluttering against the window. I looked out, and there I saw the mother robin, perched in the nest - preparing it for the next brood? Robins typically have two broods per season, sometines three. On it goes, this dance between eros and thanatos, the life force and death force, both of whom sing to us at each moment. On it goes, on and on.
And so we drum together.
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