The first skill when making a driftwood drum beater is finding the right piece of driftwood.
I look for pieces that are strong and without cracks,
but also interesting.
but also interesting.
Perhaps what catches my attention is the way the wood grew,
Or seeing that a beaver chewed it,
or noticing that nature and the waves of the ocean sculpted something very smooth and even.
But before I begin felting the wool to make the drum beater,
I do something else, the secret ingredient.
I make a bead from a tiny chip of shale
using a piece of pointed flint.
The flint is twirled into the centre of the shale
until a small hole appears,
and the irregular edges are smoothed away with a flat stone.
I save the bead dust as this is the real treasure of the process.
Because what makes a bead is the hole in the middle,
and not the material around it.
I make beads to honour the cedar trees that give me rings
for the back my frame drums,
and this thank you honors the pieces of driftwood also.
So no matter how the drum beater is finished--
with a laced design of leather,
or with a simple embellishment of smoke-tanned deerskin,
always my thank you comes first.
Here is a story I wrote for my Journey Oracle wisdom cards
that tells a deeper meaning about making a bead.
But before I begin felting the wool to make the drum beater,
I do something else, the secret ingredient.
I make a bead from a tiny chip of shale
using a piece of pointed flint.
The flint is twirled into the centre of the shale
until a small hole appears,
and the irregular edges are smoothed away with a flat stone.
I save the bead dust as this is the real treasure of the process.
Because what makes a bead is the hole in the middle,
and not the material around it.
I make beads to honour the cedar trees that give me rings
for the back my frame drums,
and this thank you honors the pieces of driftwood also.
So no matter how the drum beater is finished--
with a laced design of leather,
or with a simple embellishment of smoke-tanned deerskin,
always my thank you comes first.
Here is a story I wrote for my Journey Oracle wisdom cards
that tells a deeper meaning about making a bead.
A Journey Oracle fairy tale
MAKING A BEAD
There was a child who so
loved butterflies that she wanted to make them a gift. She felt communication
without words when she was near one, like a coming into power. Her mother
suggested she make a bead to give and that in doing so she would discover the secret
of something, a knowledge that cannot be out there, and this knowing would be
the gift that the butterflies would most like to have from her.
“But what material shall I use? I don’t want to be a death bringer to
wood or bone” the girl said. “I’ll use an empty shell”” she thought. “This will
be no harsh look at reality because the creature will have already left.” And
so the girl found a shell and chipped and sanded it with a rock until a
circular shape appeared. “But now the fairy tale’s over” she realized, “now I
must be doing the work to make the hole.”
The girl looked for shards amid a
scattered focus of rock rubble, like seeing horns of stone that would be able
to pierce without breaking the shell. She began twirling a sharp piece into the
center of the shell circle, and felt her inner tension clearing, like she was
going to a new place in how she used her hands. This twirling took a long time;
the layers of shell were like hard news that does not want to be forgotten. Yet
finally the girl felt a little tickle against her finger, the way butterfly
feet tickle when one was walking on her hand. A hole appeared!
“This is the secret my Mother told me about”
she exclaimed. “A bead is not something that surrounds a hole; a bead is the
hole with something surrounding it so it can still be seen. I am giving the
butterflies something invisible.” Then the girl looked at her sore fingers,
dented from all the twirling. “Maybe this is the knowledge from making a bead
that cannot be out there—that the butterflies want the gift of my effort, more
than the thing my effort makes.”
