Drumming is a very ancient art. People have used percussion instruments since the Stone Age. Scrapers, beaters and rattles have been dated back as far as 20,000 B.C., during the Paleolithic Period, when early men were hunters. These objects were painted with red ochre, indicating that they were considered sacred. The first skin covered drums turned up in the Neolithic Period around 8,000 B.C. at the beginning of agricultural society. The first artistic representations of drums was around 2,200 B.C. Many of these pictures showed women dancing and playing hoop drums.

My first personal experience with drums was also with women playing hoop drums. It was at Women's Council at the Brant Reservation in Western New York state. This reservation was the home of Seneca Indian Elder Twylah Nitsch. She founded the Wolf Clan Teaching Lodge and sponsored Women's Council, a spiritual gathering focused on Seneca philosophy (See article on Women's Council, under Native American in the Index).

Women's council is opened by a drum, the Heartbeat of Mother Earth, which continues twenty-four hours a day throughout the weekend. This drum heartbeat is performed by volunteers, who take turns drumming for one hour intervals at the central council fire. The constant heatbeat created a beautiful backbeat for the gathering and was a constant reminder of our connection to the earth.

The nights at the council were filled with drumming and dancing. Women played hoop drums and danced, just like in the pictures from 2200 B.C. Some Seneca dances were taught, and as the eveining progressed the dancing became more improvisational. It was a powerful experience just to watch, and even more compelling once I was brave enough to join in. Dancing itself is very freeing, but there was a magic I never experienced before in the simple beat of those primitive hoop drums.

As a person who is tone deaf and definitely not musical, I at first just enjoyed listening to the drumming and dancing to it. However, the drum beat does call you. When I finally tried percussion instruments, I found them to be very forgiving. My first choice was the easiest--a rattle. You can do anything with a rattle and still fit into a drumming circle. There is no such thing as off-key, and even the rhythm is not very important when you're just shaking a little rattle. But it sure feels good to be a part of the music!

I soon graduated to a hoop drum which I got from my friend Lori. It was named Star, for the pattern in the elk hide from which it was made. The hoop drum is a good one to start with. It is a piece of hide stretched across a wood frame, and laced on the other side with strips of leather. You hold on to the back, and hit the front with a beater. Thus, you only have to hold a one-handed beat, as opposed to two handed playing demanded from bongos, congas, or African ashikas and djembes.

I enjoyed playing Star for several years, until I made the mistake of leaving her in the hot sun on my car dashboard. Skin drums loosen with moisture and often must be tightened before playing. This should be done by gently and slowly bringing the temperature up, holding the drum near (not to close) to a fire; or leaving it in a warm, dry place for awhile. The dash of my car on a hot June day at Women's council was just too much for my drum--she was overstretched and lost her tone. She was flat from that day on.

Right after the loss of my old drum, I saw a Lily Dale flyer advertising a Hoop Drum Making Workshop. Lily Dale is an old Spiritualist Community in Cassadaga, in Western New York. The Lily Dale Assembly currently continues their Spiritualist tradition, but have expanded their summer workshop schedule to include a variety of New Age activities.

The workshop was given by Joy Wedmedyk from Earth Rhythm in Brunswick, Ohio. Joy is a drummaker, dancer, and healer. I was fascinated by the thought of making my own drum, so I signed up for the workshop, which ran two consecutive afternoon sessions.

At the first session, Joy talked about drumming and the creative process of making a drum. There were a dozen women at the workshop. We broke into pairs, and together chose a deerskin. Joy lead us in a ceremony to release the spirit of the deer. We visualized the animals alive, and thanked them for the gifts of their skins. In pairs, we made two drums from each deer hide. We traced a drum pattern on the skin. Then we cut out the pattern and punched holes along the edges, and also cut lacing from the remaining hide. Our deerskin were then put into a barrel of water to soak overnight. We made our drum beaters with round wooden sticks and heads of cotton batting wrapped in leather, and also stained the hoops.

The next afternoon, we took the soaked deerhides and began to lace the drums onto the hoops. It was a long but satisfying process. Joy checked each drum for tightness before proclaiming it finished. The drums had to dry completely for three days before they could be played. We finished the workshop with a naming ceremony for our drums. I named mine "Nissah", the Seneca word for Grandmother Moon. Three days later I discovered her unique voice, and progressed on my drumming odyssey.

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