We Choose to Drum

We Choose to Drum

by Bill Schaeffer

We are men constantly faced with danger and threat;

Filled with doubt and uncertainty --

Under attack at all times from unseen and invisible influences.

All theology appears contradictory and shallow.

All philosophy seems irrelevant.

But dissatisfaction and desire cry for fulfillment.

No action, it seems, can lead to satisfactory ends.

To respond with violence is to bring more violence and ultimately destruction.

To sit passively and wait doing nothing, is like insanity and death.

So, we choose to drum.

We drum with energetic enthusiasm of the moment because there is nothing but the moment.

There is no future for us, but death and disease.  

There is no past, but fear and misunderstanding.

Even the present is forever uncertain, but the beat is constant.

The beat.  

The fervent continuous beat.  

It sustains us in perpetual hope.

Perpetual hope for the moment.   

Not a longing for the mythical "better time."

Not the wish for the ending of our trouble.

Not the belief that a savior will rescue us.

Not the optimism of undeniable destiny,

But the hope of the simple joy of life and the fullness of the moment.

Sustained on the beat, we sway with fragile and persistent strength.

Riding on the rhythm, we rock with happiness strong and infinite.

Joyfully pounding the drum, we beat the inevitable despair from our hearts.

Listening to our friends, we support each other in persistent anonymity.

Following each other, we strive for unitary expression.

Not for the fulfillment of a desire, or the wish for benefit, or the promise of gain,  we drum for the joy of drumming.

The physical exhilaration and thrill of the body, tensed and energetic, coiled and released with singular unified purpose.

The excitement of the noise and the beauty of the dancers.   

The pain of the muscles straining to keep the tempo

And the swollen redness of the hands sacrificing themselves for the heart.

The energy and the power.

The rumble and the thunder.

The spontaneous explosion of sound.

Real and big and threatening, 

Yet invisible and fleeting, vanishing in only a moment.

Moving in perpetual lockstep of syncopated geometry that stimulates the ecstasy of joy, 

The synchronous participation of real people, imperfect and awkward with graceless truth, is beauty beyond description.   

People suffering and lonely; lost and mistrustful of words and promises and hope and faith

And all the other lies we are asked to believe in time and time again to support this concrete prison we call Utopia.

We refuse to accept anything but freedom and life.  

We refuse to participate in shallow conventions of meaningless and irrelevant society. 

We refuse to think and reason, deciding that all thought is delusion and deceit.   

We refuse to calculate, to contrive, or categorize, considering all concepts to cloud the truth of understanding.   

We refuse to sit still and wait in silence, because this to us is liken unto death and extinction.

We refuse to accept the answers given us to the questions we ask because we see them as empty and hollow.

We refuse to follow your leaders as they lead us into perpetual fear and pestilence and horror and death.

We choose instead to drum.

We choose to drum because the drum is the only thing that is real and has meaning.  

We choose to drum because we live in the moment and wish to live fully and completely.  

We choose to drum because we are energized by the vigorous activity and the synchronous community of sympathetic hearts.

We choose to drum because the drum is there and because we do not know what else to do.    

We choose to drum because the rhythm calls us and we must follow.

We choose to drum because we want to.

We choose to drum because we are drummers,

And we drum.