Solstice Circle

My husband's birthday was coming up, and I didn't want to do the hum-drum "let's go out to dinner" deal. What to do? We've seen most the local bands in our area, and I didn't want him to grill dinner for his birthday. My mother joked that his birthday had to be celebrated right because it was on the longest day of the year, the traditional summer solstice. Usually falling on June 21, this year's solstice is the day before. However, he is getting a full moon for his birthday, so that's a win.

I looked up the Events Around Town page online and found a small ad for a drum circle. I'd heard about these before-a bunch of hippie-dippy types hanging out at the beach beating on random drums. I thought that with enough alcohol, this could be a fun time. I knew of an old beach bar called Tropic of Cancer that was close enough to home that we could call a ride-share if we needed to.

On June 20, the day of the solstice, we had lunch at the grill at Tropic. In the background, we could hear the sounds of some kind of event being put together. Perhaps another band, I thought. I couldn't see what they were doing, but there was hammering, power tools, and outdoor furniture being moved around.

Once the bill was paid, we became curious and went around back of the building to see what they were doing, which was setting up for the drum circle. There was a temporary wooden fence lining around a section of sand facing the beach. Small wooden benches were lined up in circles around a giant stump of oak with some lines cut across the top. A makeshift table held several drums varying in size from toy store bongos to four-foot-wide leather-top drums. There were sticks, mallets, rute sticks, brushes - so many different things to create different sounds on a drum.

That's when I told my husband were going to join that circle tonight. He said, "My birthday isn't until tomorrow," as he finished another Corona. I had a feeling he wasn't buying the whole circle thing.

"That's ok. You were born on the solstice, so we can celebrate this into the night. At midnight, your birthday officially begins."

"So...what is all this?"

I tried to explain a drum circle to him. "A bunch of people banging on drums. Some people get up and dance to the music. Sometimes there's a fire like this one is going to have. You don't have to be a professional drummer to participate." I knew he wasn't going for it. "Some of the girls get naked in the throes of dancing." That got his attention.

"I think I'll get another beer," he said, wandering off to the bar.

I asked some of the workers when the circle started, and they told me 4 pm. The solstice that day was 4:50 in the afternoon. I headed back to the bar to get a drink and asked the bartender about the drum circle. "Do you guys do this every year?"

The bartender replied, "No. It used to be done here many years ago, but they stopped a while back when a bunch of older Stonehenge things were found over in England." He noticed my confusion. "I know. It doesn't make any sense to me, either."

"What does that have to do with anything? That's England. This is Florida." I stirred my drink. "Why then start it back up now?"

Shrugging his shoulders, the bartender replied, "I don't know. It was the boss's decision." He continued drying glasses. "Something about giving the new circle time to grow again." He looked up. "Look - it was 2020. People were out of their minds that year. Litha said something about it being the right time."

My husband returned from the other side of the bar with his beer, and we found a small outdoor table overlooking the beach. "It's going to be a gorgeous sunset. Will we be able to see it if we're stuck in some circle with the hippies?"

"Yes, we'll see it. Sunset won't be until much later anyway. The circle starts around 4-ish, and sunset is after 8." I smiled at him. "And besides, we might still be here when it becomes your actual birthday. Plus there's a full moon coming. All sorts of weirdness coming our way."

After we finished, we walked back to the car for another round of sunscreen. Since the circle started at 4, we made sure we're SPF-ready. Just because the bar is called Tropic of Cancer doesn't mean we should do anything to get cancer. Once the spray dried, we put on loose beach shirts and headed back to the bar. Another round for us.

A little after 4, we headed toward the benches in the back. The red-haired woman at the entrance told us not to pick out a drum, but to let the drum choose us. Very odd, indeed. A few other people had already made their way through and had some instruments with them. We noticed other people brought their own drums. As we passed by the table, my eyes landed on a long bongo with unique angular designs on the side. My husband picked up a short set of bongos, and we worked our way to the outer side of the circle. We didn't want to be up close and personal to the show.

As more people arrived, the sound of voices decreased, and the sound of drumming picked up. Slowly, imperceptibly at first. It was impressive. No one had to instruct us what to do - we just started in. Some of the larger drums began first with a steady rhythm, deep resonating booms throughout the circle. As we got closer to 4:30, there were no more voices floating over the circle, and the number of drums and rhythms started to connect; we were starting to sway to the beats around us. The woman by the door lit the fire in the center, and that became our visual focus as the sounds continued. Instead of weed being smoked, the scent of white sage filled the air.

Then the humming began. I don't who started it, but eventually everyone was humming or harmonizing without anyone providing any direction. A man with a giant singing bowl was rolling the velvet stick around the rim, and the humming matched the pitch. It was an eerie feeling becoming part of an entity of sound, sight, and movement. The waves of the ocean became part of our symphony, the sun high in the sky releasing its energy into us. We could see a few people in the background dancing outside the circle, dervishes kicking up sand and losing themselves for a time.

The moment of solstice was at hand. Our sounds were ebbing and flowing, reaching a crescendo at 4:50, the middle of the longest day on earth. The humming grew louder and the beats became faster as we sweat in the hot sun. The beats of our hearts matched the rhythms of our drums and for just a second or two, it felt as if we were all one being. The strength and power of that number of people in one collaborative mass was overwhelming at first. It made me think that if we could do this with just around thirty people, what could we do with 8 billion people? What change could we bring to the world?

The circle continued drumming, with different drums leading the rest, matching up and creating new sounds together and crossing over to others. Without a word, we slowed down and got quieter, a meditative song, a pensive approach toward the sunset. The solstice was approaching its end, but a full moon was upon the horizon, pushing us into the next day, a new circle.

The red-headed woman, the owner of the bar and grill, smiled as she watched the group continue to grow throughout the night. The power pulled in by the solstice was now within us, and she knew we had no choice but to spread this to others. Litha had waited four years for the two henge configurations to coalesce above ground and felt this was the right time. The sand, water, fire, and air had engaged our spirits to spread much needed positivity into the world.