The rhythm was deep, energized by passion, and strong like a healthy heartbeat.  When you entered the tent, a circle of connected souls sat in black chairs facing the center of the circle where the energized leader would direct the drums in synchronized rhythms.  The electronic clock, keeping accurate time for the Guinness Book of World Records, counted down the seconds from thirty hours in bright red letters, rolling off the clock like the hands rolled on the leather drums.  DrumSTRONG had begun.

The participants were gathered remembering those they had lost to cancer as symbolized by the chair with angel wings and cloth flags tied to the cords streaming alongside the logo.  The large drum was a privilege for me to beat with loud mallets, and its deep voice carried by the two individuals who offered to take their turn.  This drum continued to beat for thirty straight hours, it sang of the truth “Drumming to BEAT cancer”.

Drummers interwove into the tent, all hours of the day and night,  connected by their purpose, their inner beat.  The live stream went out to the world, the event now occurring in places such as Dublin, Tokyo and the Ukraine.  Belly dancers performed, live music was held on the stages, vendors sold food and drums, artisan wares.

Upon entering the tent around 2am, a dancer invited me into the middle circle to dance.  My first instinct was to pass on the experience.  Then, a little voice inside me asked, “When will you ever have such an experience again? Probably never, now get yourself out there and try it.”  So, I accepted and twirled around in my skirt, dancing with my African gourd shaker with shells in the middle of a drum circle.  The beat absorbed into my body as the drums encircled me from all directions.  I was free, I danced and smiled as I saw warm eyes beating their passions into their drums.  It filled me deeply and humbly.

I drummed and danced for my mom who survived her breast cancer and the poisonous treatments, and our good friend Joel, who looks cancer in the eye daily.  I was there relatives and friends, and those in the tent who were still fighting, still living, still beating.  And so, together we shall continue.