Shamans dance

Thursday, August 4th, 2005

Sunrise and the music beckons, thunder in the mist with horns of heaven blaring across a sleepy valley. We arrive at the farm and walk through orange groves to find a cacophony of trance devotees, each disconnected but somehow acting as one frenzied crowd, dancing under a pale blue dawn.

The music reminds me of John Hine’s wife’s description: units of monotony. But there’s something infectious, something vital and energising about the disharmony. We’re swept up in the crowd and find ourselves becoming part of the greater animal. The dust of the dancing makes patters of light stand out as te sun starts to filter through the trees. I can feel other thoughts slipping away as the shaman’s trance sets in, a general unwinding of everything Launchpad in favour of the primal focal points of movement, sex and rhythm.
I don’t know how long we stay in the mix, hours perhaps, but at some stage the spell is broken and I find myself drifting away from the jangle, looking for something different. Exploring the rest of the farm is surreal, with the thump of the music reaching out into farmish places full of farmish animals that seem utterly unmoved by the dancing imperative. Cows chew, donkeys wander. I find a bamboo thicket that seems otherwordly, an ancient copse of thought groaning slightly in the breezy, a grinding bark-on-bark sound that seems timelessly patient, bamboo copses have been groaning forever. There’s a tangerine tree that’s growing accidentally in the midst of it all and I carry the scent of it’s fruit back with me to the crowd.

As we gather forces to move on from the party, we find a clump of sugar cane and take one section with us to the car – it makes a delicious diversion as we head to the waterfall for the afternoon.

3 Responses to “Shamans dance”

  1. Hwyvar Says:

    How Shamans dance depends on their race. They could be Tauren, they could be Trolls. There’s a difference in more way then one. Being Alliance, and a Female Night Elf Hunter, I have little experience since none of them usually dances as I hunt them in the Valley.
    “here be dragons”
    Coincidence has it I founded The Dragonhunt (Neptulon, Europe) but I don’t believe in coincidences. Dragons live on the edge of the map, where artistic freedom was allowed to fill in the blancs. A hunt in here being something like a flock (of birds), a murder (of crows). But an Owl hunts alone.
    I’m perfectly aware I’m not making any sense yet. It will come, perhaps. Safety by obscurity.
    The Long Walk Inn is just a first stop where you can shelter, there’s more alike at the road ahead, and even some far out in the wilderness, yet to be discovered or better even, yet to be disclosed.
    Browsing ‘organisations’ I realised all of them apply. The first isn’t foremost, the last most certainly not least but the original motivation where I come from and I’m hoping for the attention of the Root of them all.

    Yours in the Light of Elune

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