“Now I’m gonna tell you who I am.” He said with a sly grin.

“Now I’m gonna tell you who I am.” He said with sly grin.

excerpt: “History of the Groove, drummer’s story” Russell Buddy Helm ©2013 all right reserved

2013.”Now I’m gonna tell you who I am.” He said with a sly grin. Not that I really cared. I had been on staff at this very high end recovery organization in the Pacific Palisades for about two years. Each week I would bring six Ghana Djembes around to each of their three private houses, estates actually, and drum for an hour with a few of their patients. These people were from all over the country, even other parts of the world. And they came to this organization, because of its very good reputation for helping people recover from a number of conditions; drug and alcohol are just a small portion of their treatment expertise. They handle  ADHD, hypertension, various traumas, dysfunctional family issues, bipolar, depression, anxiety, bad hair days. You name it these guys have a specialist on staff. There is a whole army of psychotherapists, gourmet chefs, masseuses, yoga teachers, meditation instructors, aerobics instructors, arts therapists, nutritionists….and me on the drums. It is an easy gig for me actually. I enjoy the people. They come from other places, and I witness their recovery partially because of the healing drum therapies I have been developing over the last twenty five years. I feel vindicated, in the sense that what I suspected is true; certain types of drumming can heal.

“This is better than psychotherapy.” a few of them have stated to me. I love hearing their get well stories although I cannot relate them. I don’t know who these people are but some of them have status that I would rather not know about. So I don’t ask names. I give them a cursory introduction to drumming meditation. They invariably want to know who is doing this back in their home town. Alas, I cannot refer them yet, because there are not that many certified HelmTone Drum therapists out there in the real world. I am teaching them as fast as I can.

After keeping a very low profile and drumming with me for a month, this recent client grinned and told me,
“I am ………’s drummer.”, I nearly flipped.

“Well then, you of all people, should know if this drumming healing process is bogus or not.”

“It’s not bogus, Buddy. It really works. Thank you.” That was the greatest endorsement I could possibly have gotten. He could have been my brother, we were so much alike.

excerpt: “History of the Groove, drummer’s story” Russell Buddy Helm ©2013 all right reserved

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The ten year old girl diagnosed with autism sang “Fever” by Peggy Lee exactly like the record

2011. The ten year old girl diagnosed with autism sang “Fever” by Peggy Lee exactly like the record

excerpt from “History of the Groove, drummer’s story” Russell Buddy Helm ©2013 all rights reserved

The ten year old girl diagnosed with autism sang “Fever” by Peggy Lee exactly like the record. Her mother had brought her in to see if she could possibly sit in with our drumming meditation group. I was astounded.

“She likes music.” her mother offered.

“This is more than liking music.” I explained. “She is a savant.”

Her parents didn’t really know that she could sing so well. I know professional singers who can’t remember all the verses to ‘Fever’. When she joined the group, and we hit another groove, she opened up and sang “You can’t always get what you want.” by the Rolling Stones, improvising on the drum while she sang the lead, putting Mick to shame. When I hit a classic swing groove, she launched into ‘Summer Wind” by Frank Sinatra. “Dear Prudence” followed that. Whenever I hit a new groove, she found a song. But it had to be close to the original tempo. Up to that point she had said absolutely nothing, eyes not focusing on anyone, just looking down, or at some colorful handmade artifact on the shelves in Seasons, Cathy’s sanctuary/gift store of twenty eight years.

“Take it from the top” I said to her and she immediately started the song from the beginning. No hesitation.

She sang into the microphone, while playing the djembe, smiling, improvising. The grown up drummers fell in love with this ten year old angel who was obviously a genius, but had been saddled with the diagnosis of autism. There were tears in her mother’s eyes and the girl’s therapist was in awe. We sailed through songs that I didn’t even know; Jack Johnson, Nora Jones. I checked the youtube versions and realized that she had hit complicated time signature changes on the Jack Johnson song exactly like the record.

“Would  you come to Paris with us?” The therapist asked. “..to the international symposium on autism. In Europe, they hospitalize autistic children. We would like to show them what is happening here.”

“Pay my way and I’m there. I want to do this at the Sorbonne.” That didn’t happen. But she is opening for Wayne Newton at the Sands in Las Vegas next month…..just kidding…I am actually doing the drumming therapy, currently on Sorbonne Avenue in Bel air, so drumming to get the universe to provide does work, only its got a bizarre sense of humor…

Sacred rhythms in our culture are hidden within our pop songs. The drum parts that we love so much are our sacred tribal rhythms. I have a great respect for the drum masters from Africa  who come here to teach us their sacred rhythms, but what we have is universal. We have simplified the tribal patterns from all over the world, as they arrived in New Orleans several hundred years ago, and even today, into accessible danceable grooves that function as our cultural highwater marks. America can do things that the rest of the world will resent, but everybody agrees that our music is great. It is great because it has a little bit of everybody in it.

When somebody comes into our shop and says they ‘don’t have rhythm’ I will immediately put a drum in front of them and prove to them that they do have a sense of rhythm and all I use is the Downbeat. The concept of the downbeat is one of the single most important contributions we have made to world culture. It has united, integrated, revolutionized, healed and motivated our society.

When slaves arrived in New Orleans they were allowed to keep the Djembe drum. This was not so on the other slave ports on the Eastern Seaboard because there, it was seen as non Christian. But in new Orleans, the djembe helped create jazz, rhythm and blues, rock n roll. The bandstand was the first place to integrate our races. It was the simple idea that we could all immediately agree on at least one single note; the downbeat; the beginning note of a phrase. Everything else could go off, but as long as we all support the downbeat, we will have a group, a community, a nation. This was not an African concept; if it had been, the story of slavery might have been totally different. It was not a European concept. The invention of the Downbeat was a cultural expediency developed in Congo Square in the French Quarter by a mix of different peoples. It was probably suggested by a woman,

“Why don’t you guys agree on at least ONE NOTE, so that we can dance?”

When our young prodigy sat down at a drum, all I had to do was set up a simple repetitive downbeat at a tempo that had been typically used for our hit songs back before the drum machine crunched our music, and she responded from a deep level of understanding; below intellect, below injury, below medicine. She responded in a common language that most of the society does not even know exists. So when you hear a classic rock song, or a great big band arrangement think of this little girl who can sing and play just by listening for the downbeat. This is not just a miracle, it is a confluence of technology and ancient grooves; she downloaded tunes into her ipod. She has great musical taste. It was a tribute to her parents that they brought her in to the drumming group. She is a blessed and lucky girl.

Here is a link to the video stream I managed to keep. Sorry about the commercials, but go to about 22 minutes and listen to her sing ‘You can’t always get what you want.’ If you don’t fall in love with her, check your heart.

http://www.justin.tv/buddyhelm/b/302837883

excerpt from “History of the Groove, drummer’s story” Russell Buddy Helm ©2013 all rights reserved

 

 

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“I am a Miracle” she said as she hit the drum

“I am a miracle” she said, as she hit the drum.

excerpt “History of the Groove, drummer’s story” Russell Buddy Helm ©2013 all rights reserved

2000. “I am a miracle” she said, as she hit the drum. She had never hit a drum before; not much chance of that; being a Beverly Hills matron with some plastic surgery along the way. But she was very sweet and sincere, and also scared. She had been through four cancer operations and the doctors were hovering around her, ready for another one. Her therapist sent her to us. We discussed her situation, while setting up a relaxing healing downbeat groove that she could play along to. It is important for the client to participate by playing the beat along with the drumming therapist. They cease to be passive at that moment when they hear their own downbeat note and that is the beginning of their metamorphosis. There are no wrong notes when you play this way. There is hope in every beat.

She discussed her family situation, entangled relationships with brother and sister, and sole care giver to her cancer ridden father. Her brother and sister had projected the shadow of the family onto her, so she said she felt like, “Cinderella’, under the heal of her siblings. They let her take care of the sick father. She did it without complaining, but when it came for him to be discharged from the hospital, she chose to take on the daunting task of taking care of him. On the night before his release, she came to the shop and created a drumming ritual with candles and a quiet groove and affirmations. Her father passed later that night, and she said that we had helped release him. She felt that he was staying alive just for her, so when she released him in her soul, he passed away gently as she was also free.

She told us that their family lawyer had spoken to her privately, “I have watched your brother and sister treat you shabbily for most of your lives. But lately, they have changed their attitude toward you. There is more respect there. What have you done to change this, if I may ask?”

“I’ve been drumming.” she said with pride. She had bought a small drum and was drumming on her own. “I am a miracle” was her healing mantra and she would stay on the groove, repeating that phrase for an hour or more, often two or three times a week in a private session in the store with me. When she came into the shop and drummed she would light up like a light bulb.  It was keeping her going. At one point the doctors called her just to say they could not find any new cancer and they actually told her, “You are a miracle.”

“I know.” she said. Her life was looking really promising and she wanted to have a companion, so I told her to drum on the kind of partner she wanted; make it specific. So she made a list of characteristics and then drummed on it; envisioning these characteristics manifested in a person. When she arrived for her weekly drumming session she was giggly like a little girl.

“He’s here.” She said, “He’s everything I wanted in a mate; great sense of humor, etc…..except, I was hoping for someone a little taller.” I laughed. She had not included that in her description. She brought him in and I was pleasantly impressed. She put her own life in order and ‘like attracts like’. She got what she wanted.

We now know that certain types of drumming increases the T cell count in the blood stream; one of the cancer fighting elements in our own survival system. I suspect that there are other cancer fighting elements in the act of meditation drumming, such as stress reduction, visualization of healing, intention, joy, endocrine stimulation, endorphin supply, mental stability, and who knows what else. I also know that drummers have died in a number of crazy ways but few I know of have died of cancer.

When I told her I was going on tour, she gave me a worried look. She feared she would not make it until I got back. I was driving through the Smokey Mountains, outside of Cherokee, North Carolina, in the middle of the night when my cell phone went off. There was no reception up there. It was her number but there was nobody on the line. I found out later, she had died that night at Cedars in LA. The last thing she said to her therapist, who was there when she passed was, “Tell Buddy it works. My life was better with the drumming.” She gave her drum to her therapist, who started to drum with me. One day while we were quietly drumming  our friend appeared to me, as if in a dream. I don’t get visions. I try to stay grounded when I am doing this. She spoke to me saying, “I was very far away, but I heard your drumming and I found you. I am sorry you weren’t there when I passed, but I want to bless and protect your work. So I will be here.” I try to be pragmatic about the benefits of the meditation healing drumming in order to relate to the greatest number of people. But as time goes on, I feel that we do have angels involved with this kind of drumming too.

excerpt “History of the Groove, drummer’s story” Russell Buddy Helm ©2013 all rights reserved

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“Make sure you are not being followed.” He said, then hung up.

“Make sure you are not being followed.” He said, then hung up.

excerpt: “History of the Groove, drummer’s story” Russell Buddy Helm ©2013 all rights reserved

2009. “Make sure you are not being followed.” He said, then hung up. I was nonplussed. The caller did not explain anything; just time and place and what gear they wanted me to bring.

“You must sign a nondisclosure agreement.” he had stated. “Are you OK with that?”

Yeah, I was. It almost felt like I was in my father’s business. I knew better than to ask questions; just show up, do the gig, get paid and keep my mouth shut. I had two drumsets shipped to me overnight, loaded up my van and arrived in the parking lot of a grocery store at the appointed time and sat there, waiting. He walked up to me on my blindside. He was a professional. His neck was thicker than my thigh. Solid as a rock; he had Blackwater written all over him. “You weren’t followed, right?”

“No.” He seemed to be nice but I wouldn’t want to get on his wrong side. I have seen plenty of mercenaries; my favorites are the old school soldiers of fortune. He had some of that panache but kept it hidden. That’s good, no need to advertise who you are. I still had no idea what was going on.

“Follow me.” He said and jumped in a white new pickup and we were off. I thought I knew these hills but he took me where I had never gone before, stopped at a very high tech gate, punched in a code and we went through. Wound around past ritzy homes and then pulled over. He helped me unload all the drums, carry them into the ‘guest house’ which was huge. Set them up on the Alpaca rugs and waited, again. Finally people started coming in, more body guards, baby sitters, nice people. I sat at the drums and laughed at my life. I had been in some funny situations. This was one of them. Kids started coming in. Really nice kids. I started to get them going on the drums. Finally mom came in with a baby on her hip and it all made sense. She stuck her hand out and shook my hand. She was really nice. This was a cool gig. We banged and had a good time. Dad came home at the end of the day. He reached over the drumset and shook my hand, kicked back and enjoyed the show. He instructed the kids,

“Play like Buddy.”

The coolest testimonial never heard..But I really wasn’t interested in the celeb energy here. I was picking up what they wanted from the drumming; peace of mind; just like all the other people I have been working with. The grooves put them in a place of safety, honesty, trusting, caring, joy, healing, confidence. They really needed all that stuff; just like everybody else in the world.

There is an instinctive need in people for ‘rhythmic nourishment’. Computer drum machines don’t fill that need at all. It makes the anxiety worse, so people feel the urge to hit a drum. They assume that the type of drum to hit is a drumset. So that’s what they had me bring. What they really wanted to hit was a hand drum like the healing djembes from Ghana. So the next time I went up I brought the djembes and let everyone hit those. There is a big difference between a drumset and a djembe. The steel, chrome and machining on a drumset is impressive looking but it is intimidating and puts out the wrong kind of energy for healing. The djembe has no technology so it has a nurturing quality to it that is missing on a drumset. Plus the deep tone is from a goatskin head and a carved thick wooden shell. The only drumset drummer that I knew that still used actual skin drumheads on his kit was cousin Levon Helm. That’s why The Band sounded so authentic. He knew the difference between plastic and skin.

I went up to their house for a few months and watched the kids and the big people open up a little, share the groove and experiment with their own creativity. We showed the kids how to stay grounded and confident and find the downbeat. It was as educational for me as it was for all of them. When it was over, it was over. I never heard from them again. They ended up with a lot of drums and it would be great to have a drumming meditation circle with all their friends, but I seriously doubt that would ever happen. They got what they could get out of it.

excerpt: “History of the Groove, drummer’s story” Russell Buddy Helm ©2013 all rights reserved

 

 

 

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Orgone Drumming; the future of the Groove

Orgone Drumming; the future of the Groove.

excerpt: “History of the Groove, Drummer’s Tale”

Russell Buddy Helm © 21013 all rights reserved

We don’t have words to describe the actual effects that meditation drumming has on the human system, yet. But we must also take into consideration the effects on the surrounding environment. The drumming energy field is quite powerful; it has influence over the people and location that is a party to this celebration and meditation. Not all drumming does this, but what happens is an energy increase in both the people and the location. Wilhelm Reich’s research from the early fifties defined ‘life force’ in scientific terms; he called it “Orgone”, and it is definitely time to review his astounding work and accept it into our vocabulary of energetics. His work was so controversial that his lab reports were burned in a fit of puritanical paranoia by the Department of Defense and he was imprisoned for the rest of life, when they discovered he was enhancing the life force using sex. We have evolved enough since then to reexamine his ground breaking work.

The accumulation of Orgone energy was his basic goal. The more Orgone in the body, the healthier the person. It is also transferable to others, just by being in proximity.I have experienced it in drumming groups and it makes  you really exaltedly high. Not intoxicated, or sedated, but actually a higher consciousness.

Drumming is sex. Drumming generates the same kind of energy that is generated making love. Just ask any great Rhythm and Blues singer and they will explain in great detail how the grooves enhance love making. Every great rock n roll song contains lyrics about sexual energy and how it plays out in the drama of our lives. I am not promoting free love, I am advocating the understanding of the life force. The drum generates the life force and we have no instruments to  measure it. There has been some blood research and Mickey Hart will put on a cerebral baseball cap and show his brain lit up but that does not explain what is actually happening. That is for the next generation of energy researchers to articulate. I am merely bringing the discussion into the public domain.

excerpt: “History of the Groove, Drummer’s Tale”

Russell Buddy Helm © 21013 all rights reserved

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“I am not a victim.” The good doctor drummed as she spoke, using mirrored hand activity

“I am not a victim” The good doctor drummed as she spoke, using mirrored hand activity.

excerpt “History of the Groove ” Russell Buddy Helm ©2014 all rights reserved

2001.

She spoke, “I am not a victim.” while hitting the downbeat with alternating hands on each word, using ‘mirrored hand activity’.  She is a well known Phd in brain research who had a history of trauma and delayed stress. She came to me because nothing else was working as a therapy.

When our hands perform identical motions, the brain hemispheres go into a unique, balanced electrical exchange and our critical mind slips into a suspended state. The removed critical mind hears the unconscious speak and witnesses what needs to be dealt with, healed, resolved, released, accepted, honored or mourned.

Conventional therapy is like trying to fix your car while you are driving it; engaging the intellect to fix the intellect. We need that vocabulary to understand what is happening, but in drumming therapy, the intellectual mind is released from controlling, so it can observe how our belief system is really working.

There is discussion about ‘negatives’ not working in affirmations; the mind supposedly can’t hear the word ‘not’,  instead it hears, “I am a victim”. I don’t know if that is true or not. Drumming affirmations are a form of computer programing; our own body and mind is a computer. “If X does not equal y then goto…”. is a typical subroutine using a negative. Very simple rhythms are the basic programming language of the human operating system. The command line being entered needs to be concise and repeatable, but slowing tempo is unique to the human operating system. We encode all events with an emotional value, slowing down tempo makes a positive and safe memory.

We often lose track of time while in the groove state because the critical mind can be controlled with rhythm.  Advertising has known this for decades. I played drums on enough commercials to know that producers know exactly what they are doing when they request a rhythm at 60 beats per minute. Our critical mind is blindsided by rhythm so we will believe what the media wants us to believe; buy a Maytag, or go to war. We are rhythmic animals. We can’t help it.
George Lucas said it best; “The soundtrack is fifty percent of a movie.”

Most people don’t even know it’s there.

We rhythmically convince our belief systems to view past events differently. The belief system notices the new input; “I am not a victim.” so it comes up with its own conclusions that meet this criteria. The client doesn’t even consciously enter into the discussion, the details are resolved in the unconscious. The foregone conclusion has been drummed in, the system adjusts to accommodate the belief; even ideas that are not true or real such as “I have never been a victim”. Our belief system adopts it and works with it anyway.

In this case, the doctor became more in control of her situation, her stuttering ceased and she was not frozen in her past. Her present life took on new meaning where she could make decisions to improve her current well being. The past was not controlling her present. She became an advocate for this type of healing drumming therapy in her research for combat veterans suffering from delayed stress.

One other facet we worked on was anger; This was a different approach that dealt directly with the way humans ‘learn’ to get angry. We acquire a style of anger based on society, media, family, friends, events and beliefs. It may not always be in our best interest, but humans get angry. So instead of repressing, I chose to redirect the method of anger into something more socially acceptable. By slowing down the tempo while the client is drumming and saying. “I am angry” we witnessed a profound change in how the person expressed their anger. As the drumming tempo slowed down using mirrored hand activity while the person repeated the phrase, they inevitably started to smile. It is ludicrous to be or say you are angry while the tempo is really slow. As a result, their usual anger outburst changed; it became a calmer expression of anger. We have had more positive feedback from this single affirmation than any other. Slowing down the statement while drumming, “I am angry” redirects the electrical signals through the amygdala. There is an actual change in circuitry through the brain. The good doctor who had survived severe trauma and helped create a new form of healing defined this change in the brain based on her own research. The universe provides.

excerpt “History of the Groove ” Russell Buddy Helm ©2014 all rights reserved

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“I am Beautiful” was difficult for her to drum on

“I am Beautiful” was difficult for her to drum on

excerpt: “History of the Groove, Drummer’s story” Russell Buddy Helm ©2013 all rights reserved

2000. “I am Beautiful” was difficult for her to drum on, but it was no doubt part of the issues that brought her to Seasons, our gift store/drumming therapy center on Montana Avenue in Santa Monica. She was a pretty woman in her early thirties with flawless white, almost porcelain skin; in the model of the Dutch masters  paintings. She confessed to being diagnosed with OCD; Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Her therapist was a friend of ours and had been treating this woman for seven years. She had not had any real social life in that time. She told her story to me as she gently hit the drum sitting in front of her. I had long since given up comparing people’s conditions because one person’s tragedy can be another one’s minor irritant; it is in the perspective that we make the meaning of the event. In this woman’s case, she did not have brutish trauma incident’s, maybe an overbearing parent might have set the stage for this condition, but the solution was usually the same; the steady heartbeat of the drum coupled with a reassuring affirmation or release goes a long way to alleviate their discomfort. Rhythmically reprogramming our belief system is a nonintellectual method of getting on with the good things in our lives.

She blushed when I suggested, “I am beautiful” as a drumming affirmation. Often I suggest something just to prime their pump, and get their own imagination going. She reluctantly drummed on it; moving her hands lightly back and forth on the downbeat, getting a deep tone to vibrate up through her body as she repeated the phrase, “I am beautiful…I am beautiful..” Over and over she repeated, sending the concept deep into her own psyche. Her eyes closed and she let the trance take her to a  place of peace and acceptance as the tempo slowed down. I have taken the old Rhythm and Blues axiom of ‘Laying back the tempo’ and applied it to the therapy scenario and it works. Slowing the tempo was one of the first discoveries I came upon in the drumming therapy evolution. Most New Age therapies like EMDR and others use rhythm to program a new concept into the patient, but the problem is not in the patient; the practitioner invariably speeds up the tempo of the treatment creating anxiety in the patient’s subconscious. Our DNA seems to be hardwired on this issue of tempo in the environment. We, as a species constantly monitor tempo in our surroundings, resulting in survival decisions that affect our behavior. If the tempo around us is fast, then we become more alert, our muscles tense, our pupils contract, our peripheral vision narrows, focusing on what is in front of us, preparing to fight or run; all based on an increasing tempo. That is why the great blues masters insisted that the tempos be ‘laid back’ so as not to intimidate the audience. There is great survival wisdom in this approach, plus it gets the girls to dance. Slowing down a tempo creates a safe space, a healing opportunity and a receptivity in the belief system of the participants. First, I just tried to get the alpha personalities to just relax a little bit, but they could not, because being fast was tied into their survival strategy, even though they knew it would result in high blood pressure and a less than adequate intimacy. So I used the tambourine on my foot, to signal to their higher intellectual functions that the tempo needed to slow down. It worked most of the time even though the patients wanted to speed up. I let the chink, chink of the tambourine coerce them into slowing down. It resulted in an amazing outpouring of psychology from the patients; as they slowed down, their system ‘dumped’ what it needed to get rid of; fear, tension, trauma history, anger, sickness, regret, on and on. As I slowed them down, they talked; never having hit a drum before. As they applied the downbeat to their own embattled psyche, they were healing themselves.

As we brought the tempo down to almost a standstill, she nodded, stating that it felt good to her, but that it ‘wasn’t quite it’. We talked some more and I decided to offer another deeper affirmation; “I am Desirable” upon hearing this suggestion, she turned a bright red and said that she could not, would not say that. “Its just words…” I explained. “Its just a drum…what have you got to lose?” She reluctantly repeated the phrase as we slowed down from sixty beats to less than twelve beats per minute. So slow that her subconscious had to pay attention. Then she wanted to play it fast, real fast. So we did. There are no rules here.

I received an email the next day from her;

“If I hadn’t been so grounded and pumped up at the same time from the drumming therapy session, I would not have said “yes” to the offer from my eighth grade boyfriend who called me up last night and asked me out. I haven’t seen him since junior high school. Apparently, I am fine, just the way I am.”

She had not been out in seven years. We were invited to their marriage. At the reception, her new husband knelt in front of her with the band backing him up. He sang, “You are so beautiful…to me.” She sat in her white gown, surrounded by her attendants, and saw us sitting at a nearby table. She tapped on her legs,  and said out loud, “I AM DESIRABLE…” She gave us a big smile and added, “…Works for me!”

They have a child and are still happily married.

excerpt: “History of the Groove, Drummer’s story” Russell Buddy Helm ©2013 all rights reserved

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We were drumming sixty feet below the surface in a missile silo

We were drumming sixty feet below the surface in a missile silo

excerpt: “History of the Groove, Drummer’s story” Russell Buddy Helm ©2013 all rights reserved

2004. We were drumming sixty feet below the surface in a missile silo in the Kansas heartland. The huge concrete underground structure built in the early sixties was a boondoogle then, but now it was converted into a healing center. A circle of about forty five drummers were intently focused on maintaining a prolonged meditative healing groove, focused on the creator of this event, lying in the middle on the beautifully carpeted stage that had been the generator room for the cold war standoff but since then had been redecorated with wood paneling, balconies, bedrooms, kitchens, living rooms, state of the art media centers, massage and meditation chambers, stained glass windows that were back lit mimicking the surface sunlight; a masterpiece hidden below the earth.

The owner and promoter had just been stricken with the nerve disorder Bell’s Palsy and reluctantly allowed us to drum for him. He finally acquiesced and lay down in the circle and let us drum on his condition; focusing on putting healing energy into him. The vibrations moved through the wooden stage and through his body and mind carrying with it everyone’s good intentions. They all loved him and his wife. This was an oasis of enlightenment.

When the drumming meditation seminar was finished, we climbed to the surface on the circular stairway,  and enjoyed a star filled, balmy night watching fire spinners with more drumming outdoors. It was another world underground, like a tomb or pyramid.  They had made a magical healing environment down there, hidden below the pasture land, but they also kept a small reminder; one room was still as it had been in nineteen sixty two with the extremely primitive control console complete with a rotary dial phone, a few lights and buttons, and two ignition switches that would have launched an Atlas C nuclear missile into the heartland of Russia. Thank God it never worked.

My next venue was in Cape Cod to drum in the backyard vineyards of a pychotherapist and her husband in the quaint seaside town of Brewster. My first book was in the Ptown public library. I could not find my hat. It was a ceremonial cap with designs on it that lent a special feel to the drumming occasions. I surmised that I must have left it in the Silo back in Kansas. I called them.

“Yes. Your hat is here.” He said somewhat cryptically. “But….can we keep it here? I will pay you for it.”

I laughed, “You like that hat, huh? You would look good in it, leading drumming groups.”

“It’s not that.” He said, “We would just like to keep it to remind us what is possible. My Bell’s Palsey is gone.”

I was stunned. The recovery time is usually months. “Sounds like the hat wants to be there. So sure, keep it. I’ll get another one.  You don’t have to pay me.”

excerpt: “History of the Groove, Drummer’s story” Russell Buddy Helm ©2013 all rights reserved

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One Thousand Nuns Were On the Groove

One Thousand Nuns Were on the Groove.

Excerpt “History of the Groove, Drummer’s story” Russell Buddy Helm ©2013 all rights reserved

2003. One thousand Nuns were on the groove; two hundred nuns were in the chapel and the rest were on a video feed out to the dormitories on the grounds of the Dominican Order’s Mother House. It was a Thursday morning prayer group and we were all drumming. The oldest nun, in her habit, eighty two years old, sat next to me and was beating on a djembe with as much or more conviction than I’d seen the weekend before at the festival fire dance. They were all committed to generating spirit right here in their beautiful white chapel. I had arrived with a car full of Ghana djembes, and a muddy tambourine pedal that soiled their white shag carpet but they did not mind at all. They were focused on prayer and drumming.

That morning, driving out through the desolate farmland, I was feeling tired. I had a moment to talk with the universe, directly to Divinity; “Look….This is getting to be a lot like work…I am feeling tired. I am thinking of pulling the plug on this. So if you want me to continue this work, you have to give me a sign. It’s got to be a big sign though; I am deaf, thickheaded, lazy, and stubborn. If it’s not a big sign, I will miss it.”

I pulled into the Dominican convent and unloaded the drums. Drummers unload and load drums twice as much as they play the drums. So get used to that if you are considering this as an activity. There is a certain type of stamina needed to tour playing music; it is a mixture of insanity, surreallness, commitment to the music and an unalterable ego that insists on showing the world ‘what you got’. In my case though, I was still looking for my music partner, Tim Buckley, who had been murdered years earlier at the height of his career. It had felt like my horse had been shot out from underneath me and I had hit the ground with a thud that I still feel. Drumming was a way to alleviate the pain. It was also a way to generate life force that would overcome other people’s traumas. I was starting to suspect there was more to this drumming then just feel good grooves. People were telling me that they were ‘getting better’.

We had been drumming for an hour, praying for the children in the war zones. They had a wireless mic passing around the audience members asking for specific prayer requests. I was enjoying this a great deal; it reminded me of my grandmother’s summer retreats to watch faith healers when I was eight years old. Only here, there was a good beat going. The group sitting with me were nuns of all ages. They all were hitting the groove. The video camera was sending it out to the hundreds of nuns in the dormitories across the campus. Sister Sharon told me to lead the prayer.

“I’m not an ordained minister.” I explained.

“We know that.” She nodded and smiled. “We’ve seen you work. Just go ahead…”

So I improvised. Drumming can enable that talent in people who are even so locked up that they can’t even make any kind of decisions; when the groove moves them, they feel courage.

“Let’s call in the Christ energy..” I said, looking around at the ecclesiastical crowd; no one threw tomatoes at me, so I continued. “Let’s call in the Mary energy” I posited. I prefer a balanced Yin/yang flow to the groove. They were still with me so I proceeded to let the spirit take me as we drummed. The prayer lasted for a while. I closed the group with the invocation that I have been using for years; a non aligned verse that doesn’t seem to offend anyone yet calls in the universal life energy. We did the ‘big ending’ and everyone clapped and smiled. It had been a success.

As we stood around basking in the afterglow of this inspiration, the Mother Superior entered the room with a quiet sureness. She was looking very composed, but something was on her mind; she locked her eyes on me and glided to a stop in front of me.

“We have been here for one hundred and fifty years. We built this Convent. There is an old tree in front of the Mother House that has been here since the beginning. It is cracked up the side, but it is still alive. It is our favorite tree. That tree caught fire while you were drumming.”

No one said a word. The nuns standing on both sides of me just stood there with some enigmatic understanding. I felt a deep shiver down in my bones. I looked at the nuns. They did not react. The Mother Superior continued in a calm, authoritative voice. Her hands were clasped in front of her.

“The grounds keepers are calling it spontaneous combustion.” She made an imperceptible shrug, “That happens…”

I was at a loss for words, so I just looked at her and hoped someone else would say something. I was sliding into a state of shock.

“Would you like to see our museum?” She offered.

“Yes. Very much so.” I was glad to learn more; this was a heavy group of women. They took me to the museum and I saw their heritage of justice and caring all across the globe. They were real trench fighters; not backing off when the going got hard. There were a lot of heroes in their ranks and a lot of ultimate sacrifices by the nuns in the killing fields. They had martyrs. But they were down to earth and non self righteous. They introduced me to their counselors who were dealing with women in the convent who could not go out into the public because of their pychological and physical abnormalities such as inoperable tumors on their faces and other conditions. They were all very sweet people.

“We would like to use your drumming therapy here.” Sister Sharon explained. I of course agree to come back and teach it. But I had to ask something.

“I am a man of…how shall I put this….pragmatic faith. Can I see the tree?”

The sister drove me around to the other side of the immaculately tended acres of grounds. The tree was a red oak, standing over two stories tall. It was a hundred and fifty years old. It was enveloped in white aromatic smoke. The grounds keepers were standing at a distance. One nun stood far back, watching. The Adrian Fire Department hook and ladder truck was just pulling away. They had placed a yellow hazard tape in a circle around the tree after dousing it with water and chopping a small hole in it to examine why it was burning. They found no apparent reason for the fire. The local newspaper photographer was taking pictures. He came over to me, all excited and full of energy.

“I heard the call on my CB and got up here before the fire truck. While you were drumming, there were flames coming off the top of the tree!”

I looked up. “It’s not burned.” I said kind of forlornly. This was looking uncomfortably mysterious.

“Yeah! Weird, isn’t it.” He waved at me. “Get in there. Lets get some pictures!”

I climbed over the yellow hazard tape and knelt in front of the smoking tree. “Wait til the winds get the smoke right!” He yelled, ‘Ten Commandments’ with Charlton Heston had nothing on this guy. I did not know how to feel about this.

Sister Sharon bought the drum I was using and arranged for me to come back. I returned four times. The City of Adrian cut the tree down to the ground and eliminated any sign of the tree’s existence. The only remaining evidence was the old sidewalk that had curved around the tree in a half circle. When I returned, there was a sprout coming up in the middle of that circle.

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Halloween drumming part 2

http://www.justin.tv/buddyhelm/c/3177006

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