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A chant written while I drummed through a three hour rainstorm at PSG 2009
How she rains, soft she falls
Kisses from the Goddess touching us all
How she rains, harder she falls
Saoking our skin, touching us all
How she rains, sweet she falls
Filling our hearts, touching us all
I am the drop
Through which the ocean flows
I am the drop
Through which the ocean goes
I am the drop
That cleanses your soul
I am the drop
I will make you whole
Gina Estevez LaMonte (c) 2009
Thursday morning, PSG 2009
With enough rain, enough water, any dam will break.
The skies have opened up - I take that back - the sky hasn't opened - rather it is closed - filled with spongy gray clouds that are in turn filled with glorious rain. I think she was doing the dishes - celestial dishes, celestial cleaning, that is - and is squeezing the sponges and the dishrags out.
Or are we so in need - so emotionally dry or in need of cleansing that we draw the water to us?
Drumming in a rain storm - the rhythm was as clear as any midnight drum circle around the fire. But this was water all around and I under a canopy with the King of Cups (my lovely drum). I am the drop through which the ocean flows - nothing like a little Zen Gnostic spirituality in the middle of a Pagan festival.
All my intentions for dry clothes, dry towels, dry anything, are naught. I am powerless against this rain. Don't know that I would really want power over it. And so everything hung to dry is now hung to soak.
And so I drum. In the rain. Listening and falling into the steady rhythm. Letting a prayer spill from my throat - a prayer of simply being. Not asking. Not thanking. Not needing. Not praising. Just being. Just singing. Just here and now, and the tears fall because I have missed writing and rhythm and music so very much.
With enough rain, any dam will break. I hear this call to pick up the drum and find the voice that I lost. And there are so many questions. How, who, what will this cost me, how much time, how much energy ... Stop she says with each drop. Listen she says with the rain. I cannot say what you must hear with your heart so full of questions. Let the questions go - for now. Listen and know what you have hidden. Learn what you would do. Shut up and sing. Shut up and play!
And so, I had one of my infrequent moments - crying, playing, raining, pouring - it is all one. And there is nothing else here but the Goddess, the rain, a woman and her drum ... and some very wet, but very clean clothes. |