February began with a private celebration of Imbolc/Candlemass where, right on cue, a bunch of Snowdrops appeared in the garden. This has become quite a meaningful little celebration for me in recent years focusing my appreciation of the first stirrings of spring and this event has become even more poignant over the course of this year. I so much need the milder weather and energy of spring, the Sun, and the Green Man to heal my body and sooth my mind. Although I have been able to sit well wrapped up in the garden a few times this month when the sun has shone, the cold weather has been all pervading and the relentless wind has been in sore need of some Cosmic Gaviscon to settle itself down.
This month I have made two important musical purchases, a huge Djembe and an old Irish Bouzouki with some surprise money that came my way. Although I am still weak on my right side it’s getting better all the time and all the drumming and strumming seems to be helping me get back to normal. I am also trying to sing and chant again and my capacity to breath is slowly improving. Last week, thanks to my friend Nell Brooker who took me to a music showcase at the Palace Theatre in Mansfield, I met an old friend from my 1990’s drum circle days, Biant Singh, who is still running workshops around and about. Meeting him again has inspired me to think that maybe I’ve still got something to offer even if I’m not fit enough to teach whole classes and run workshops myself any more. Bought the Djembe from Mickey at Sabar Sound in Nottingham who is also very active in the local Drum Circle scene and we had a great chat about drums and coma dreams. I slowly seem to be connecting with a whole new group of drummers/musicians/shamans which is amazing..More power to ‘em!
Did an awful thing last week on facebook. A young lady from Wales who shall remain anonymous (but her first name is Sioned), put up a post inviting us to discover our Reggae names based on the first letters of our real names. As I used to play in various Reggae bands many years ago I thought I was more or less entitled to give it a try and came up with the wonderful moniker of ‘Ras Nyabinghi Bong’. Apologies to any Rasta folk who may be reading this but I couldn’t resist going for it.. A punishment of 10 hail Haile Selassie’s for me.. Sorry, but I shall wish to be called by this name if I ever get to play in a Reggae band again.
Local resident Martin Bell, who has done some sterling work trying to save our local wood ‘the Shrubbery’ from being turned into a golf resort, has recently published a calendar of photos of the area. Good news is he has raised over £1500 for a scanner at our local hospital. I have still got one left if anyone wants it for free. It’s nice to have such nice pics of the fields and woods hanging on the wall throughout the season, especially when you’re unable to get out there often yourself.
Just before my heart attack last spring I was due to go to a ‘Romper Reggae Party’ hosted by my good friends DJ Andy McAllister and his partner Candice. Unfortunately I never made it but I was pleased to hear that the party went on and was a great success. I have recently discovered while researching my book that wearing animal rompers or ‘Kigurumi Onesies’ has a long history going back to the old stone age days when shaman hunters would get down to Primeval Primark and buy Lion and Camel suits to wear at parties and the odd hunting trip. It seems that they have a long and illustrious career in the history of the Pagan religions of North West Europe.. I guess the old gods never really disappeared but live on through our unconscious promptings and deep primaeval urges.
Got a new music genre to add to my collection of descriptions – ‘No Boundaries Music’ – unfortunately not been doing a great deal of composing lately but I can feel an outpouring coming on before long.
Finally, just heard about the death of an old friend Malcolm Bennett from Belper who also harks me back to the old Drum Circle days. He came to the project I was working at in Derby in the mid 1980’s to do a series of drum making workshops and he taught me how to cure goat skins and string up drums using plastic containers and everyday items. I would like to think some of the great drums we made are still around somewhere even though it was almost 30 years ago that we produced them. He was known affectionately as the ‘Man from the Hills’ something he never let me forget especially when I ended up living in ‘them there same hills’ many years later. I taught his sons Henry and Colin at Belper School who have both appeared to survive their forced educational ordeal intact, Henry becoming a fine blues guitar player to boot. One thing I have learned through my recent illness and coma experiences is that our souls cannot die and I trust that Malcolm has found himself a nice ‘real ale’ pub in the sky with bands playing every night to hang out in while he sorts himself out. Rest in Peace Mate.
Revd. Magic Sam Murray Feb. 2013
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