The Joy Drum

There are certain things that make me feel instantly, unmistakably alive.

Dancing is one of them.

Put me on my mini-trampoline, chanting in devotion, moving my whole body while Sanskrit and English kirtan fill the room, and something shifts. I’m no longer thinking about what needs to be done, what happened yesterday, or what might happen tomorrow.

I’m simply moving.

There’s something about moving my body with joy, especially in devotion, that feels like coming home to myself.

I’ve thought this about dancing for as long as I can remember.

One of my most devastating childhood memories is from when I was about six or seven. Our class was putting on a school play, and I had a dance number I was so excited to perform. But the teacher decided our class was too rowdy and cancelled the play. I was heartbroken. I had been so looking forward to dancing.

When I was in university, I used to say that dancing was how my body translated music into movement. I’d go to clubs with my friends, close my eyes and dance for three hours, then open them, get behind the wheel and drive everyone home as the designated driver.

I wasn’t there to drink.
I wasn’t there to meet anyone.
I was there to dance.

And I realize now that I was also there for that feeling of being completely present in my body—free, joyful, and utterly absorbed in the moment.

Paramahansa Yogananda taught that joy isn’t something we have to create from the outside. Ever-new Joy is our true nature—the nature of the soul. The spiritual path is, in part, about clearing away the things that keep us from experiencing what is already within us.

That idea has stayed with me.

Because, truthfully, joy doesn’t always come easily to me.

I feel things deeply. I notice a lot. I’ve had my share of life experiences, responsibilities, uncertainty and challenges. And like most of us, I can get caught up in the sights and stories of what’s happening around me.

So I’ve consciously cultivated practices that help me raise my vibration and reconnect with something deeper: chanting, dancing, spending time in Nature, being still, creating, noticing & sharing beauty.

I don’t think these practices manufacture joy.

I think they help clear some of the noise so I can remember it.

That has also been part of my long-standing spiritual aspiration to become more equanimous—to be happy no matter what. Not because difficult things don’t matter, or because I should pretend everything is wonderful when it isn’t. But because I want to know that whatever is happening around me doesn’t have to determine what is happening within me.

And perhaps that is why this wild dancing woman emerged at this time – a reminder and a celebration.

When I first envisioned the design for this drum, I almost called it The Wild Woman Drum.

She has her arms raised. Her body curves in a strong S-shape. Her hair and skirts whirl around her, some spiralling right above her head. The sun and moon accompany her.

Her skin is another little bit of magic. From one angle, she looks white; from another, she seems to radiate a soft, pale gold—as though the light is coming from within her rather than simply falling on her.

She is wild—but not wild in the sense of being chaotic or out of control.

She is wild because she is uncontained.

She is free to move. Free to feel. Free to express. Free to rejoice.

She isn’t trying to manage the moment.

She is in it.

And perhaps that is what I love most about dancing. For those moments, I’m not thinking about what needs to be done next or figuring something out or managing life.

I’m simply moving.

The more I lived with this image, the more I realized that Joy was really what this drum was carrying.

The Wild Woman describes her energy.

But Joy describes what she embodies.

This drum reminds me that underneath all the layers of personality, responsibility, experience and story, there is something in us that is naturally joyful.

Something that wants to dance.

Something that wants to celebrate being alive.

Something that remembers.

And I almost kept this drum for myself.

I love it. I still love my Temple Dancer drum, but there is something about this one too that gets me right in the heart.

So I asked my pendulum whether this drum was meant to stay with me.

The answer was no.

Apparently, simply co-creating it with Spirit was what I needed, and now she has somewhere else to dance.

And I’m okay with that.

I think perhaps that’s part of the joy, too—creating something from that place within, loving it deeply, and then letting it go where it is meant to go.

The Joy Drum.

May she remind whoever finds her that joy isn’t something we have to chase.

Sometimes, we simply need to remember how to dance.

Want to see The Joy Drum in action? You can watch the video of me blessing her at sunrise, as part of my rooftop morning routine.

You can also see more photos of The Joy Drum and find her in my shop if you feel she might be meant for you.

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