My journey into drum making—and eventually drum teaching—began not as a grand plan, but as a quiet, sacred unfolding. I was in my late twenties when I birthed my very first drum, cradled by the wild and windswept lands of Dartmoor. There was something deeply ancient, primal, and true in that moment—the act of creating a medicine drum with my own hands, in communion with the land, stirred something in my soul that I couldn’t yet name.
At that time, I had no idea this path would lead me to teach others. It was a deeply personal experience, an initiation of sorts.
The turning point came a few years later, when my daughter—then around three years old—asked if she could play my drum. Of course I let her, watching with tenderness and curiosity as she struck its surface with innocent reverence. But as I witnessed her small hands on the hide, I felt something clear and strong rise within me: this drum, my first, was my own medicine. It held my prayers, my breath, my tears. It was not to be shared in that way. She needed her own.
So I sourced local hide, found a suitable hoop, and sat down to craft her a drum—a gift woven with love, song, and intention. It was a simple gesture, but a potent one. That act of making a drum for my daughter cracked something open.
I shared a picture of her little drum on social media, not thinking much of it at the time. And then the ripple began.
A friend saw the photo and asked if she could come and make a drum with me—and could she bring a few others? I said yes. We gathered. We prayed. We wove intention into wood and hide. And again, the photos of that day found their way online. More messages came. More women wanted to remember how to make drums. The ripples became waves.
Since then, I’ve held drum-making circles for my women’s group, my “Wise Women Medicine Women” training sisters, and countless others. We’ve sat in sacred space together, crafting not just drums, but portals for healing and remembrance. I’ve travelled across the UK with hide and hoops in hand—into the wild beauty of the Brecon Beacons, through the green heart of Ireland, up to the highlands of Scotland—bringing this work wherever it was called.
Each drum birthed is a heartbeat of the Earth remembered. Each woman who makes her own drum reconnects with her voice, her power, her rhythm.
This is how I became a drum maker. This is how I became a drum teacher. Not by design, but by following the gentle pull of Spirit, the quiet invitations of life, and the call of the drum itself.
Do You Feel the Call of the Drum?
If this story stirs something inside you—if you long to remember your rhythm, craft your own sacred drum, and learn the art of holding this powerful medicine—then I warmly invite you to join me for the Drum Apprentice course.
This is a deep, soulful initiation into the world of drum making and drum holding. Together, we will:
🌀 Birth your own ceremonial drum
🌀 Explore the spiritual and ancestral roots of the frame drum
🌀 Learn how to work with the drum as a sacred tool for healing, ceremony, and women’s work
🌀 Cultivate your own voice, rhythm, and presence as a drum keeper
🌀 Be part of a circle of wild-hearted women reclaiming ancient ways
Whether you’re new to the drum or feel ready to deepen your path, the Drum Apprentice course is a journey of reclamation, rhythm, and remembrance.
Ready to walk the path of the drum?
Apply here- applications close in Sept.
Let’s walk this wild, sacred path together.
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