Groove

I knew a Sardinian grandmother who had nine children and tens of grandchildren. When I was pregnant with my first child, I sat next to her at a noisy Italian lunch at a long table. “Eating for two?” she said in a low voice, giving me a wink. My mouth dropped open. It had only been two days since I had taken the test.

“How did you know?” I asked her. “Something about the roundness of your face,” she said, “there’s a certain look about you…” she added enigmatically. Grazia was a vigorous and wiry woman in her seventies with bright eyes, a widow who had lived through hard times when food was thin on the ground. She wore black at all times to honour the sons and the husband who died before her. She knew a lot about life, death and all about babies. She would soothe the crying ones by taking them in her arms, jigging them back and forth on her hip in a surprisingly vigorous rhythm while singing in piercing Sardinian dialect. The babies’ limbs soon softened and their eyes became heavy. She was helping steer them from distress, and guiding them back into the groove.

What is being in the groove? It is resting in a rhythm much bigger and older than yourself which has been played so often that it has worn a channel to guide you by; somewhere where you are connected and included, somewhere where suffering and self consciousness dissolve, somewhere you breathe easy. The groove provides a guiding handrail for when you are lost and anxious. The groove gives you energy.

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A few weeks ago I took part in a drumming circle, learning traditional Afro-Brazilian rhythms from Biano, who both demanded our full attention and stayed consistently kind throughout the weekend. As we got going, we would invariably speed up. Biano would raise a hand and lean back in his seat, “hey, where are you all running to? No hurry!”

As we rested more into the beat and started looping the rhythms, as we drummed with growing trust and conviction, we’d reach that point where we would lock into the greater pattern, and the polyrhythms came alive. We had clicked into the groove. I was on a rhythm train, both focussed and relaxed, guided out of my thoughts and preoccupations and onto these ancient rhythm pathways. I was in time, yet had no idea what time it was.

As the rhythms became more complicated, I would sometimes trip over them and fall out of the groove. I think most of us did. Finding my way back felt like a useful life skill. Being out of sync with a group of drummers necessarily causes one to stand out to some extent so I felt briefly self conscious. The first step was to reassure myself, because the best way to get back into the groove is to relax. It helped that the circle was kind and supportive, rather than critical, focussed above all on holding the rhythm. Biano was always there to support one jumping back into the groove. There was a room full of beating hands and resounding skins, reminding me where the rhythm lay until my own body relaxed enough to respond and I’d pick up the rhythm once again like catching a dropped stitch.

After two days of drumming, I felt like I’d been pounded by the ocean; my body was tired and my mind peaceful. Days afterwards, I was still feeling the rhythms in my body. I heard them in the hum of the dishwasher, in the chinking of crockery, in the rhythm of speech, in the flapping of pigeon wings, in the river rushing over the boulders. The groove is always there amongst all sounds, pulsing through the silence, .

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There are some ways that help me back into the groove in those moments when I feel stuck in my mind, when I am anxious, when I am second guessing myself. Dancing and drumming take me there. Bob Marley, Bach, Aretha and Marvin help get me back on track. So does walking. Writing works. Sharing stories, singing, loving and laughing remind me where to find the groove. Swimming is good. Cleaning, darning, sweeping, chopping vegetables, weaving and weeding all help. Ping pong too! Being so immersed in making something that I forget myself takes me there. Staying in the groove feels like swimming in deep water rather than bobbing about in the shallows.

Anything that helps us to feel less self conscious and reminds us that we are connected to life, that we belong to something far bigger and more reassuring than the uneasy bubble of our own body and mind - these help one back into the groove. I think that’s what happened with Grazia’s babies -her singing and pacing and rocking, the wrap of her arms was more compelling than their own distress. She guided them expertly into the groove.

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Listen to this Bach for its groove