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Dear blog friends,

Today I would like to talk about the sound of the drum. About the sound of this particular drum.

It is a Motherdrum that is located in France and calls out from there to the world.

This drum has just been covered with a new skin, which was a considerable financial, timely and logistic effort. First, the right skin had to be found, (which are probably one of the few things not available on Amazon!).

These skins must be carefully selected. A horse skin produces different sounds than buffalo skin and thus reaches different realms. To find this new skin involved travel and that took more than a few days. Two female bison hides of different ages were finally selected.

Then raising the skins, tuning them, and keeping them tuned is a fine art. For all that effort, I thank Vero and Dennis.

The beats are amplified by the double skin from above you, and they reflect back from the ground. When you are lying under this huge drum your whole body vibrates. The first beats are very slow, because the healer is trying to connect with you. With each (gentle) drum beat, you feel your body slowly fall out of tension. One loses the feeling of one's outer limits.

Then, as you slowly melt away and the world recedes into the distance, the rhythmic beats become faster. The relationship between the drummer and the person coming for the drum call plays a big role. Maybe it's because I've been here several times before, but I feel well taken care of. I can let go of mind and body. This divided space becomes one. I have no intention, I expect nothing, I am in free flight.

On this particular day, on one of those rainy and far too cold late summer days in August ´21, the wood stove is actually crackling, because the drum needs a certain temperature. My mind makes a last feeble attempt to ponder the poor state of the world (we are in the middle of the pandemic still), but the drum immediately takes me away from it. "Not now," it seems to say.

About now the overtone becomes audible, a steady tone the drummer joins with her own voice. Only fragments of her voice reach me down below, it is as if the space between her and me were swallowing parts of the sung message.

Then the issue appears. Today I didn't name one, I didn't ask for an answer explicitly. I asked for guidance and allowed myself to drift. Then, as if letters were glowing in my mind's eye, I see writing, it says "...ARRIVING".

My theme. My eternal, eternal theme. I have to smile.

I see the face of a little fox in front of me and he looks at me as if to say, "what are you doing down there...?" I grin at him. He sits down and tilts his head.

"What are you looking for...?" he asks like a talking mythical creature. I think he wants to help me find it.

A change of rhythm startles him. He comes back once more to tell me not to worry. "See you..." the fox says in some language I understand, English, French or German? And I have a feeling that he will be waiting for me at home...

Now I feel a breeze. I hear light footsteps. There are several of them. I try to lift myself a little to see who is there. But no chance, the drum keeps me flat on the ground, motionless.

I hear voices. Women's voices. And I know they are barefoot. From where? I don't know. This is the magic of the drum. It creates a world in which you know. Just like that.

I see from behind closed eyes that the women are wearing green dresses. Light green. All the same color, different fabrics, different cuts. Although I can't see them clearly, I know they have reddish hair. Long hair. Wreaths of barley.

Like a crack in the projection suddenly a secular image flashes in: from a film I saw recently. A film about hundreds of Israeli women - all dressed in white - dancing for justice and peace. Their image and their song fade away. The drum brings me back. Now I hear music I can't name. But I hum along. Part of me hums along. There are no words. No language.

Everything that weighed me down when I arrived that morning has given way to these sounds. I have the feeling of being weightless. I could laugh out loud and I am completely relaxed. The chants fade away, and the rhythm of the beats slows down. The journey is about to end.

I lie in silence for a few more minutes, listening to the soft rustling of Vero's clothes. The crackling of the fire. The crackling of the skins.

Then I slide out from under the drum and there is tea. I wait. Vero now tells what she has perceived or seen. Today she stays silent for a long time and says, "...they are all there. You are blessed."

I wait. But I already suspect that this will be all and I realize how much it is.

They are all there, the watchful beings, the friends from the Otherworld, and they are watching my way.

It usually takes a few days to decipher all the things that happened in the presence of the drum. Images keep coming and going and each time they do, I understand what they are telling me.

I hope I could inspire you. Find a Motherdrum and lie down under it!

I am sending you heartfelt greetings and all the strength you need,


Photo: It shows Vero with her drum.

Translated with

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