tam tam tam tam tam

just over one year ago i walked to mont royal on an overcast sunday with blackbird (my guitar) firmly gripped in my sweaty right hand. the intention was to play her at the tam tam festival, a weekly community drum circle. but, alas, the beats proved to be too intimidating to a novice player such as myself. instead, i allowed each pound of the drums to encourage insecurity to increase it's surface area in my brain (technically speaking, of course). luckily enough, this internal battle didn't sufficate the experience and while gorging on self expression and community spirit, i gave myself a challenge.

during the course of the year, i launched a personal investigation into community, music, confidence, growth, acceptance, communication and art. through my work as a waitress, teacher, community support worker, and singing instructor, i developed a respect for alternate points of view and how valued and varied expression can be. i began to realise the importance of communication as the acknowledgement of expression, as well as its multifacited nature. the many beautiful relationships that developed this year taught me that acceptance is lying at the heart of communication. -okay, this is starting to sound like a cover letter- but honestly, i think my struggle with music is synonimous with the "graduate syndrome" so many of us have felt/are feeling. we sign up for classes, buy the books, do anything to avoid reading/practising, take the exam and however prepared we are try to perform our best. and when it's all over, we wait for the grade to determine the next sequence of events. but it isn't until one lets go of the ego -general stress, anxiety, thoughts, wants- that you feel that note, relate to a passage, seize a thought, speak a language, help another. instinctually, your interests and passions shape you.

last sunday, i raced out the door at 1pm into the indescisive october day. the metro ride seemed long and the walk to mont royal longer. captivated by shear energy, i decided against the daily coffee and continued the arbitrary quest to get to the tam tams as soon as possible. once i hit du parc, the rhythms simultaneously comforted and perturbed me as they encouraged my nervous behaviour. once there, i sat right next to the characters i remembered so clearly -the silver haired mystic playing a deep purple saxophone decorated with gleaming gold stars and the disabled teen who could pick out any newcomer in the crowd, and ask for their name and consent to dance. with shaking hands, i revealed my instrument -the very one that collected dust in the corner of my room for six years -louie, my trumpet. i became a member of the circle that day and i felt very gratfull not because of the approving looks i got, nor the variations on licks i started, but because of the fact that i had risen to my own challenge.