To begin your journey to Drumming in the Hall of The Mountain choose one of four elements. Depending on your choice, you will begin at one of four locations within Cannon Hill Park, where a member of the cast will greet you to lead you on a unique experience on route to the Outdoor Theatre at Midlands Arts Centre for the second part of the performance.
Remember to trust your intuition as you make your choice and we will see you soon.
There is a wild spirit in the air. It lives above us and around us, below us and within us. We cannot live without it, and so we welcome it into our home, into our body. Sometimes it is angry, it howls and the ground beneath our feet freezes and thunder echoes somewhere along the horizon. Its spine is crooked, and its wings are made of bone. When it walks, we hear teeth chattering as the sound of feathers brush up against ancient willow trees. There is a storm coming and it is calling you to join it.
There is a wild spirit in this earth, in the dirt and stones that your bare feet walk on, whose skin is porous, whose leaves and bark fall off and birth over and over again. When it sleeps, you might mistake it for a rock, but underneath a wild horse waits to awaken. As it walks towards you, we hear a whirlwind of scratching sound along the forest bed. The Earth gives life and cares for you in the best of times and buries you when you are ready to depart. You are its child, and it calls upon you now.
There is a wild spirit that sleeps in the embers of the flames, beneath the soil and the roots, beneath the rocks and the sea. It burns hot and when the land cracks it emerges from slumber and destroys. It swallows anything and everything in its path, not out of malice or evil, but out of necessity. Without it, there would be no life, no balance. And so, we pray that it spares us and we fool ourselves in thinking that we have mastered the skill to keep it caged. Though it cannot be tamed, it can be loved. It is time you visit it one more time.
There is a wild spirit in the sea. It is heavy and extends over vast stretches of land. It shapes stone and mirrors the sky. You are made of it and from it, and it envelopes you at birth and drains away in your final sleep. There will come a day when its flooding will show no mercy, for it will no longer be able to hold the world’s weight under its tender skin. That which melts into its can no longer be found, cannot be reversed, and cannot be unwritten. The day has come for you to let it tell you its story of life and death, of birth and rebirth, of how this world will end and how it will begin again.