Joining the Circle for the First Time
Hummm. I struggle to describe the experience.
It is a dark night and the winds are blowing. I have been working up to this moment for nearly two years, developing and practicing Taorluaths, Leumlauths, Rodins, Throws, Grips, Two Pulse Birls, Three Pulse Birls, Taps, Shakes, Half Shakes, Doublings, and Echo Beats. And committing to memory literally dozens of precise “arrangements.” I’m still not sure if I am ready, but I have shown up anyway and I hope that I will be able to comport myself well tonight.
Last week my mentor and Leader of “the Circle” presented me with a chanter – a chanter carefully selected for use by the members of the Circle. It was an invitation. An invitation to join the Circle. All members of the Circle use that specific design of chanter and if you do not have that chanter you cannot join the Circle. You are not invited.
I watched as members of the Circle gathered around their well-worn cases and began to assemble their ancient Celtic instruments of war. Their battlefield usage date back at least to 1396, when scribed manuscripts about the Battle of the North Inch of Perth recounted that the combatants marched through the streets of Perth “to the sound of piobaireachd and armed with bows and arrows, swords, targes, knives and axes.”
I open my own much newer carrying case and pull out my new chanter. I try to look casual as I gently affix it into position at the gooseneck end of my thick leather bag. I untangle tassels and spread out the long dark shafts of the bass and tenor drones that are reinforced with rune-etched brass ferrules. I carefully adjust them to what I hope are just the right length.
Then I pick a spot and boldly step into the Circle between two other more experienced practitioners. There are about 20 of us gathered in the Circle tonight. I try to catch my mentor’s eye, the Leader of the Circle, but he is busy elsewhere. I know that he knows I am here though.
Then comes the first set. OMG!
The room explodes in sound. I know that my own actions are also contributing to the sound, but I cannot distinguish my own sound from the sound of the many in the Circle.
I pause to pull out one earplug, but it doesn’t resolve my dilemma. Then I hit a wrong note (OK, probably several). Yup, it’s me all right. I can only hear what I am playing when I am playing something wrong!
I’m talking about bagpipes, of course. Tonight, I am practicing in the Durant Community Center gymnasium with the City of Alexandria Pipes and Drums (CAPD).
https://www.facebook.com/CityofAlexandriaPipesandDrums/
Ironically, the acronym CAPD also applies to a hearing disorder (central auditory processing disorder). 😀