This goat is going to take care of me

It’s October 2022 and I’m lying stretched out on a stone bench at the soulful, yet rather dusty retreat location in the inland of Ibiza. So called Lowland shaman Peter de Haan and I are exchanging life stories before the rest of the group arrives.

We’re going to make our own drum. And learn a lot about shamanism. At least, that’s the plan. That this retreat would take a completely different turn, no one could have guessed at that moment.

Early Friday morning, the building day begins. Entirely guided by intuition, we choose a wooden ring and a hide that resonates. By feeling.

At that point, I’m still skeptical.
Feeling?
How, exactly?

With my eyes closed, I’m handed the first hide. I feel it. Well… a hide — what’s there really to feel? I decide to ask for another one. The moment I touch the second hide, my whole body tenses up. Yuck. I don’t want this one! At the same time, something starts to click. There is something to feel after all.

I sense the third hide approaching even before I touch it. The moment my hands make contact, I know: this one will take care of me. It turns out to be a hairy goat, and only a year and a half later I’ll learn that it resonates with the root chakras — the ones that stand for safety, emotions, sexuality, and creativity. After my divorce, that’s not such a strange theme combo for my drum…

Next up are the wooden rings. I keep feeling and sensing, but my ring isn’t there.
“I’d like a smaller one,” I say with my eyes closed.
“There isn’t one,” Peter’s assistant replies.

Weird, I think. Because I need a smaller one.

But well, I’m not one to make things difficult, so I settle for the second-best option. Peter starts drumming, and we connect with our materials. I see a goat jumping across the rocks. It says: “Enjoy the view and make crazy leaps.” Then I feel the ring, and I sway smoothly from side to side, my feet firmly on the ground. “Resilient” is the word that comes to me. It turns out to be a willow wood ring.

In the hours that follow, we soak the hide, punch holes, make the drumstick, and tighten the skin by threading the cord. Tightening requires quite a bit of strength, and since my fingers are usually only used for typing, I get some help from others. Eventually, Peter comes by for a final check.

He gives the cord one last pull and… rip. The skin tears.

My heart skips a beat.
I can’t believe it.
I know immediately that this had to happen — I just don’t know why yet. Peter suggests choosing another hide, but that doesn’t feel right. This goat is going to take care of me. The only option is a smaller ring.

BAM.

The realization hits me hard. Like being struck right between the eyes.

I knew it!
I felt it!

I knew it, I felt it — and I did nothing.
I settled for a bigger ring.
Even though it wasn’t what I needed.

Tears.

So many years of pent-up grief pour out of me.
And even now, a year and a half later, I still get emotional.

Such a beautiful life lesson.
Such an eye-opener.
What a gift.

Luckily, another drum can be repurposed and I get my smaller ring.
The fact that it’s getting dark by now is less fun. As is the cramp in my hand from threading the cords. But well, this goat is going to take care of me, so after dinner I start again with fresh energy. This time with a different threading method — a folded-over hide for extra strength.
Better safe than sorry… And I got help from co-retreaters. Can you see the heart in the image?

By eleven o’clock, we’re done. Exhausted, but deeply fulfilled.
And I know — no, I feel with every fiber of my being — that this drum is just the beginning of a series of eye-openers that will change the way I look at myself, others, and the universe.

Amazing. What a journey. And when I get stuck, I’ll pick up my drum and play until everything flows again.

I had felt it right.
This goat will take care of me.

Do you want to experience the sensation of animal spirits and Peters passion for drum building yourself? Join the drum building experience on November 2nd!