We were drumming sixty feet below the surface in a missile silo
excerpt: “History of the Groove, Drummer’s story” Russell Buddy Helm ©2013 all rights reserved
2004. We were drumming sixty feet below the surface in a missile silo in the Kansas heartland. The huge concrete underground structure built in the early sixties was a boondoogle then, but now it was converted into a healing center. A circle of about forty five drummers were intently focused on maintaining a prolonged meditative healing groove, focused on the creator of this event, lying in the middle on the beautifully carpeted stage that had been the generator room for the cold war standoff but since then had been redecorated with wood paneling, balconies, bedrooms, kitchens, living rooms, state of the art media centers, massage and meditation chambers, stained glass windows that were back lit mimicking the surface sunlight; a masterpiece hidden below the earth.
The owner and promoter had just been stricken with the nerve disorder Bell’s Palsy and reluctantly allowed us to drum for him. He finally acquiesced and lay down in the circle and let us drum on his condition; focusing on putting healing energy into him. The vibrations moved through the wooden stage and through his body and mind carrying with it everyone’s good intentions. They all loved him and his wife. This was an oasis of enlightenment.
When the drumming meditation seminar was finished, we climbed to the surface on the circular stairway, and enjoyed a star filled, balmy night watching fire spinners with more drumming outdoors. It was another world underground, like a tomb or pyramid. They had made a magical healing environment down there, hidden below the pasture land, but they also kept a small reminder; one room was still as it had been in nineteen sixty two with the extremely primitive control console complete with a rotary dial phone, a few lights and buttons, and two ignition switches that would have launched an Atlas C nuclear missile into the heartland of Russia. Thank God it never worked.
My next venue was in Cape Cod to drum in the backyard vineyards of a pychotherapist and her husband in the quaint seaside town of Brewster. My first book was in the Ptown public library. I could not find my hat. It was a ceremonial cap with designs on it that lent a special feel to the drumming occasions. I surmised that I must have left it in the Silo back in Kansas. I called them.
“Yes. Your hat is here.” He said somewhat cryptically. “But….can we keep it here? I will pay you for it.”
I laughed, “You like that hat, huh? You would look good in it, leading drumming groups.”
“It’s not that.” He said, “We would just like to keep it to remind us what is possible. My Bell’s Palsey is gone.”
I was stunned. The recovery time is usually months. “Sounds like the hat wants to be there. So sure, keep it. I’ll get another one. You don’t have to pay me.”
excerpt: “History of the Groove, Drummer’s story” Russell Buddy Helm ©2013 all rights reserved