The Festival of Guide and Guild -Day 2: Gossmere

Greetings, Mounties!

Following the compass, today’s the day of the Gossmerim! Here’s the next prompt for the Festival:

“Can you feel it, the heartbeat of life around us, the call of The Common Drum?” How do you feel the Common Drum’s beat?

Happy Day of the Gossmere!


I don’t know if it’s the same thing, but there have been times where I’ve heard a song that’s new to me, and have been able to intuit some of the lyrics that haven’t repeated, or some of the rhythm section.

(And non-music-related, I’ve intuited lines in movies and TV shows before too, if it counts)


I wrote this a while ago:

So, how do I feel the Common Drum’s beat? By listening. By being still and quiet, and hearing the rhythms of life all around me. By speaking. By using my words and my voice to connect with people, every day. To lift them up. To show them that together, we’re stronger than the challenges we face. Because at the end of the day, who ever we are, whatever our station in life: We are all the same.

We all dance through life to the rhythm of the Common Drum.


To me, the Common Drum’s beat isn’t something you necessarily hear, but something you naturally feel when you take a moment. It’s as common to the world as breathing, but only noticeable when you take the time look for it.


The Common Drum is a song, one I think I’ve been humming for a long time. I was that kid who wore fairy wings to school, and who played with a lil toy first aid kit at recess. Its that feeling of kissing someone you love, or kissing a stranger. Its a universal beat, a song I could dance to when my parents were fighting or when anxiety felt like it would cut me down.
The Common Drum beats, and for those who need to hear it, it beats as loud as a warcry and as soft as a lullyby.


The time I’ve most felt the common drum is a little literal. I do Irish trad on the side sometimes and I would often go up to Madison late on Wednesday nights to play with a bunch of other Irish trad musicians at a pub near the capitol. We sequestered ourselves in a small corner and drank and talked and played for hours. We all knew some of the same tunes and we would often bring new ones to teach the other players. The feeling of playing something you’ve only practiced alone and suddenly feeling the swell of song rise up around you is magiqal. A lone whistle is soon joined by fiddles, concertinas, bodhrans, and accordions and the whole pub vibrates with it.
You can feel the air around you come alive.