The day started gloomy for me. I drove to Connecticut for a wake of my friend’s son who died in a tragic car accident. At the same time, I was still recovering from my recent divorce which kept me in a state of uncertainty and loneliness at times.

Unable to calm my soul after the wake, I drove to New York City to just wander around the Central Park. Randomly picking turns and paths, to kill the pain in my heart, I suddenly heard sounds of drums and felt naturally drawn in that direction. Soon I noticed a group of drummers passionately hitting diverse types of instruments. I sat on a nearby bench, closed my eyes and indulged myself in the rhythm. Not sure how much time has passed, but when I opened my eyes I noticed one of the drummers walking in my direction. His one hand holding his drum and the other bleeding from hitting it too hard, he sat next to me and started chatting. Not long after, my hands were on his drum making weak discouraging sounds, that were nothing like what I just heard. Encouraged to try again, I closed my eyes, felt the drum and began to move my hands. It connected me with something I hadn’t known before, and I felt a huge lump in my throat that was equal parts sorrow, gratitude and joy. That friend was Anthony, still my dear friend.

Since the initial tremor of my first encounter with drumming never ceased, I felt compelled to follow where music would lead. It would be a few months before I was graced with the drum teachings of my friend Dion, but there was a spiritual relationship nevertheless. Once I felt the drum in my chest, the void I’d carried after the divorce was gone. In its place was acceptance and hope.

The rest is a composition in the making. Along my life path I met a lot of drummers, but two souls made a special impact on my life, Mari and Chelo. Not only we drummed our hearts out together, but they opened their home to me, and made me part of their extended family.

Every Friday night for three and a half years, I would arrive around 11pm to Port-o Lounge in Jersey City, set my drum next to other drums and wait for Mari and Chelo to signal that we start to beat the drums, with a cowbell or dundun drum setting the desired tempo. As soon as I would struck the animal skin of my drum, what started off as a modest sound of a beating drum slowly yet solidly transformed into a wave of vibration that appeared to tremble my entire skull. There is a component of drumming that inflames something ancestral within, something that helps one cross the boundaries into ecstasy – especially when fueled with unlimited sangrias. There were red, white and black nights. There were masquerades and costumes. There were professional and amateur dancer igniting the crowd to move and experience the magic. It was far more than just delighting in the opportunity to make music together. Every night I emerged from the other side of this experience with a wide smile and internal peace.

Science has made it pretty clear that drumming has several intense and integral uses to improve physical, mental and emotional well-being. Drumming opens doors, enhances self-esteem, increase immunity while reducing stress, enhances brain function, lessens anxiety, creates joy and improves quality of life, ensures a healthy workout, stimulates our minds, boosts our creative potential, makes us laugh and connects us on many levels, but most of all, it is also a fun and expressive way of sharing our experience!

The drums have offered me the most successful channel for stress relief. Whether I’m anxious, irritated or bored, I consistently feel lighter and happier after playing on my djembe. So I drum. Subsequently, I have far more energy, motivation and optimism. In short, drums are my therapy.

We all have rhythm within us. We make music without even realizing it. We are all drummers. We tap our feet when hearing a tune. We bounce a pen on a table when anxious. We clap when impressed. Deep within us, there’s a voice, a vibration, an effluence of life from every cell. Our uniqueness resonates through the mode we decide to live.

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