When dusk falls and we make our way to the drum circle, my energy is like a curl of excitement waiting to unfold at the base of my spine. Already the fire keepers have built a framework of wood that houses young flames. The drummers are finding their places on the outer ring of the circle, sitting down with their drums before them, drumskins vibrating with the energy about to unfurl. They test a rhythm, simple like a heartbeat. Someone slides in with a more complicated layer. Suddenly, there is a solid round of beats that fly in circles low to the earth then spiral up like the smoke from the fire. My hips begin to move in a figure eight, drawing the infinity symbol in the air as I stand on the outer ring of the circle near the drummers. My body knows when the drummers have found their collective beat and I couldn’t sit down even if I wanted to. The creative energy in my womb is unwinding like a snake and traveling along the curves of my body, slow at first then to a shimmy. I make my way to the fire.