Drum Shame

I promised myself I wouldn’t have drum shame at Camp Merveilles just because my drum is not a djembe, and a first attempt, and not like the others, etc. Well, I knew I’d have drum shame, but I coached myself to show up anyway, as myself, authentic, misfitting, and courageous. But the sound is shameful! It was tinny, shrill, glaring, awful! So I gave it a good whack to loosen it up and the tone bottomed out. Now I have to try to tighten it again, not knowing how, really, and not knowing if i’ll ever get to a good tone. Is it simply an inferior drum? I could rent a drum for only $10/day, but why? I really really really want to play my own drum! THIS drum. That my dear friend and I made. I know it sounds like a stupid problem, but I’m stressed about it. And it’s stomping a nerve that was ripped right outta me and obliterated during 3 of 4 legs of the trip I have yet to write about. *sigh*

I’m usually pretty good at not borrowing trouble. Raw nerve ‘n’ all…

I’ll be fine. Marko will help me tighten this thing. This time, I will learn how to move to the next row after finishing a round, so that when I need to make adjustments in the future I won’t feel stupid and useless. This feeling of failure does not belong to my drum. It’s all mine. It belongs to my insecurities and how I process fear.

I made a drum, dammit! I’m proud of that!

Am I really doing this?

Am I really doing this?

measuring the new hide

measuring the new hide

Diamond [in the rough] Stitch

Diamond [in the rough] Stitch


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