With me, drum isn’t just a drum. If you looked closely in my previous blog post about my drums, ou might have noticed three drums in the first picture. Well, you see, I never settled for just two drums. When you step into the world of drums, one is always more than two.
The Universe had one more drum waiting for me. This third drum I didn’t craft myself — yet it found me in a special way.
While scrolling through social media, I came across Arto Hämäläinen. Arto is a master drum maker from Southern Finland. The moment I realized he crafted adjustable drums, I was s u p e r intrigued. I reached out to ask about the mechanism, just out of curiosity (yeah right, I brobably fooled myself at the time). Arto’s detailed and warm reply stayed with me longer than I expected. Before long, I found myself emailing him again, asking how this drum that was calling me from afar could become real.
If you wish to step closer to the hands that shaped this drum, visit the world of its maker, Arto Hämäläinen — where tradition meets invention.
We exchanged couple of e-mails. Lastly I said I was drawn by the deep green of the forest and the dancing northern lights. Arto’s response was simple — just four words: “I’ll cast your wish to the Universe!”. (Okay translated in english it is not just four words but you get the idea.) At that point I truly felt, that the path had chosen me – cold chills down my spine.
A couple of days went by. The next message from him came with a photo — the drum was exactly what I hadn’t dared to dream! Vibrant, luminous, dark but in every way calling me with warmth.
The First Beat
Though I didn’t make this drum myself, it holds the strongest emotional connection I have with any of my drums. It is part of me — an extension of my spirit. And this drum? I don’t lend it to anyone. Only my children are allowed to try, and even then i hold it myself.
The first time I got to try the drum, my fingers tingled with anticipation. Its adjustment mechanism is, in its simplicity, pure genius. A traditional drum is tied together and its tone can be adjusted by, for example, warming the drum skin or spraying it with water to loosen it. But this drum is something else entirely.
Between the drum skin and the frame is a bicycle inner tube. By pumping air into it through a valve, you can control exactly how tight the drum skin is — and how the drum will sound. The first time was a pure exploration, like waking up on Christmas morning. Finding the perfect amount of air was an adventure, and when the sound finally bloomed — oh, the wonder of how perfectly it could sound.
Weeks went by. I stayed listening, wondering the name of the drum. Drumming sound was awesome and I felt a strong feminine power from it, but the drum’s inner voice was quiet as a mouse to me. Then it finally hit me: She insisted me to turn in to my inner voice instead of reaching to hers. I realized I couldn’t force it.. In a way I felt that she wanted to remain wild, and a name would have bound its creative force. Therefore, I accepted that it didn’t want to reveal its name, not even to me. Reminding also myself to respect my boundaries.
Finding My Sound, but why the drum?
I do play piano and guitar. However since my services take me to where clients are, lugging around piano is quite tricky. And to be honest, the guitar doesn’t resonate with me in this context. It’s like trying to tell an old folk tale while reading it straight off a phone screen — the feeling just isn’t there. It had to be drum.
Drum help me reach back into ancient times. Every indigenous culture has had drums or some kind of rhythm instrument. Singing was like chanting mantras — a way to share oral tradition and strengthen the feeling of belonging to a tribe or community.
By the campfire, in the pulse of the drum, there is something deeply grounding and primal. The drum calls to surrender to the waves of sound. It resonates on a cellular level, so primitive and intuitive that it invites us to release reason and rationality.
Performing with the drum offers no hiding places. There are no microphones, no complex chord progressions. There is only raw rhythm — stripped-down truth.
By my drum, I am most present. I become sensitive to the power rising from within.
The Role of the Drum in My Performances
This drum is not just part of my personal journey — it’s at the very heart of my work. Whether I am performing storytelling pieces that carry echoes of Finnish roots, or creating intimate drum relaxation sessions under the northern lights, this instrument shapes the entire experience. On the other hand, i feel stronlgy that my drum creates a bridge between performer and listener. In every drum relaxation session, I watch people sink into stillness. Allowing their breathing deepening, their shoulders get loose. In storytelling performances, the rhythm becomes part of the narrative, pulling the audience into a shared space. On my website, you can glimpse how this rhythm moves through different settings — from private wellbeing retreats to seasonal outdoor performances — always carrying the same grounding pulse.
The Heartbeat of Tradition
I can’t imagine a better way to preserve the songs that take us back to a time when mystery and rootedness were everyday realities. Reason had little say back then — knowledge of the world was limited, but wisdom drawn from nature was intertwined with the drum’s vibration.
One time, after a relaxation session, client slowly emerged from under her blanket. She rose from lying down to sitting on her yoga mat, moving as unhurriedly as a bear waking from hibernation. Her eyes were still dreamy, and she sat there in the lingering warmth of the sound, as if not quite ready to return from wherever the drum had carried. She told me how surprised she were about by the drum’s power — how it moved her into tears and brought warmth into their body as I played near her. To me it’s no longer a suprise. The drum’s sound asks no permission from the mind; it carries you straight to where heart and earth breathe the same rhythm.
And so, with every beat, the drum speaks a language older than words—whispering stories of earth and spirit, calling us home to ourselves.
