This First Person column is the experience of Pauline Cyr, who lives in Calgary. For more information about CBC’s First Person stories, please see the FAQ.
WARNING: This story contains distressing details.
Tall pine trees whispered in the cool evening breeze. The stars came out and tiki torches flickered around a quaint drumming circle gathered in a park in southwest Calgary.
I sat next to a dear friend, hiding my grief behind laughter. As the group began softly drumming, I hesitantly joined in.
The drumming became progressively more harmonious and meaningful. I was surprised by how much I relaxed and became enthralled. The unison sounds were like the heartbeat in my chest — a voice for the pain I was suffering and couldn’t express in words.
Could this be possible? Had I found the deep spiritual connection I felt inside a church out here in nature with a drumming circle?
I grew up in Ile-des-Chênes, Man. We had a loving family, where the church, faith and service were a part of everyday life. We attended the local Catholic Church throughout the week and, until I was 21, I aspired to be a Catholic nun.
But I’m also Métis from my father’s side, and when the 215 suspected unmarked children’s graves were found at the site of a former residential school in Kamloops, B.C., I reached my breaking point. I felt shame and realized the church was no longer in alignment with my values.
I’m thankful for the pope’s apology. But I made the choice to no longer attend mass until I see a real unity — the full inclusion of Indigenous members within the institution — or until being at peace with the past and the forgiveness in my heart are in alignment.
Without the regular practice of attending church, I felt disconnected spiritually. I missed God’s presence — that peaceful feeling of never being alone, the practice of putting my worries in God’s hands and recognizing the many blessings that come my way.
Without church and a dedicated space for prayer, I felt more anxious, less able to forgive and accept. But this was not the only burden of loss I was carrying.
In 2021, my 93-year-old mom’s health started to decline. I moved in with her for six months, cooked her favourite foods, spent time together and tucked her into bed each night.
During Mom’s final hospitalization, she declined rapidly. Then one day, I touched her arm before I left her bedside. She reached with her hand to touch mine and, an hour later, she was gone. It was surreal.
I felt the loss of a loved one and also a loss of purpose. That sense of purpose was cut further when, within two months of my mother’s passing, both my children left Calgary to pursue their post-secondary education.
The pain of losing my mom, losing a sense of God’s comfort and no longer connecting with my kids face-to-face created a void.
That’s why my friend recommended the drumming circle. It was organized by a musician and therapist, open to the public with drums provided, and drew about 100 participants weekly. My friend and I got to the park early and put our chairs right near the centre of the drumming circle.
Surrounded by the beating of those drums, I closed my eyes. Suddenly my tears flowed and I sensed my mom’s presence. Her sweet voice, her scent and her ever-so-familiar laughter. She felt so close.
And then I also became aware of God’s presence, a feeling of calm or stillness and sense of love with no conditions or limitations. I realized that faith can grow anywhere — whether that’s inside a church building or the great outdoors.
That feeling of love — that life is full of blessings — was right there when I created the space to be present.
Reconnecting with my faith brought gratitude. Suddenly I knew that my kids were exactly where they should be, and I didn’t lose my role supporting them as we remain connected with postal deliveries and video technology.
It was my first and last drumming of the year but I’m planning to resume when the weather warms up. I still hope to go back to the Catholic Church someday, but in the meantime, that one amazing drumming experience warms my heart and gives me hope.
That deep faith connection I once had is re-emerging — a gift of healing, and now with the memory of a drum.
A national Indian Residential School Crisis Line is available to provide support for survivors and those affected. People can access emotional and crisis referral services by calling the 24-hour service at 1-866-925-4419.
Mental health counselling and crisis support is also available 24 hours a day, seven days a week through the Hope for Wellness hotline at 1-855-242-3310 or by online chat.
Telling your story
As part of our ongoing partnership with the Calgary Public Library, CBC Calgary is running in-person writing workshops to support community members telling their own stories.
This workshop was hosted by Unison at the Kerby Centre.
To join a workshop, suggest a topic or volunteer a community organization to help, email CBC producer Elise Stolte or visit cbc.ca/tellingyourstory.