Desert Ramblings

Harmony in Life

2012-01-20T19:36:00.000-08:00

Love expresses itself as harmony. Harmony in relationships, in physical form and in sound. When many voices or instruments blend together to create a beautiful sound this sound communicates joy and fulfillment to all who perceive it. When something happens that distorts this harmony then this event darkens and corrupts everything around it - harmony turns to cacophony. We witness in the world around us many such cacophonous phenomena taking place. They result primarily from the thoughts and actions of human beings. We see around us social phenomena that bring pain, distress and alienation into the lives of every man woman and child on this planet.

That part of our collective reality, which we call the economy, has been distorted to the breaking point. And with it everything it affects: health care, education, transportation, trade, government. We must not react to this as a bad thing. It presence is an indication of an evolutionary process at work. It is an indication that we are in a transitional stage. We are witnessing the disintegration and break up of an antiquated order of society. It is a stage that is necessary in order to progress to the next higher stage in social evolution. The disintegration is an expression of harmony re asserting itself. It is a process of historical realignment as the universe reestablishes a harmonious relationship between people and between people and the natural world of which we are all a part.

We are moving towards a working, co creative relationship wherein all participants share equally. Sharing because we know that we truly give to ourselves in giving to others. Sharing as we do when we play music together. In our collective lust after material forms we forgot this most important principle - love one another. When we love one another we create harmony. Instead of seeking fulfillment and peace in concert with all beings, we threw ourselves at the feet of a false god of our own creation. A god that is referred to in the Bible as mammon.

Instead of thinking and acting for the mutual benefit of ourselves and the world that is our home we took everything we could extract from the world and from others for our own individual satisfaction. In doing this we were attempting to fill our inner emptiness with material objects and selfish experiences of pleasure. In lusting after the power and wealth of material reality we have created a disruptive, cacophonous situation. There is extravagant wealth for only a few individuals at the expense of the rest of the whole.

The wealth of the world, when shared equitably, can provide abundance for all. We whose eyes and ears are being opened stand witness to the degrading inequalities in society and in the environment around us. We witness that this disintegration is taking place at an accelerated pace. We can see this as a phenomena that will eventually bring all of creation back into a harmonious relationship with all of its parts.

But being here on earth at this time presents many challenges. We need to cultivate great strength and flexibility to face the challenges of the time and place. What does not adapt and contribute to the solution will perish. What does not strive forward will fall behind.

The sun has moved another few degrees South since I was here Wednesday morning. The full moon descends towards the horizon in its ever-progressing journey across the skyline of my life. Storms come and go, and the rainbow of peace follows the storm. I may not live to see that rainbow in its full glory, but it is a constant presence in my inner vision. It calls you and me to action. We have a contribution to make to this process of realignment. We are not here as simple observers and we cannot afford the luxury of freezing up with fear and dismay in the face of what may seem to be overwhelming obstacles. The fear of failure and loss is a distortion in our own hearts and minds.

The human body itself is just a temporary affair that spiritual warriors are ready to lay down at any time knowing that life does not end when the physical body begins its journey back into stardust from which it came. We are a focus of conscious energy. We have been sent out by that great power of which we are all a part to become servants in these material fields of our lord. We cannot allow ourselves to be crippled by fear because it would hamper our ability to serve.

For most of us - for myself - relinquishing fear is part of a process that takes time. Fear does not lend itself to being wished away. The ego related programs that foster fear are rooted deep in the fundamental patterns that we picked up as a consequence of our entry into form.

The sun rises as the moon slides inexorably toward the horizon. The snow on the mountaintop catches the first rays and reflects the orange tinged hue of the rising early morning sun. Shadows begin to define themselves across the land. The first warm rays of radiant energy melt into the skin of my face. The cold, freezing air surrounding me causes my fingers to experience that physical sensation we call pain. Cold hurts. That's the word we use to describe that tingling alarm signal. My body is being chilled below the comfort level. The signal says I am in the danger zone. Nothing to fear there - I’m prepared.

Winter in the Desert

2012-01-19T16:36:00.000-08:00

Winter in the desert. The most startling change is that I don’t hear birds singing. Many species have migrated south. The ones who stay are focused on finding food and staying alive. In winter they don’t feel those rising urges to claim a space and proclaim a territory; a piece of the whole out of which they can derive sustenance for themselves and the family they expect to see.

In springtime the competition will begin for the best places - a combat of songs and occasional skirmishes that end in a sort of a truce between rivals. Territoriality, one of the primary laws of nature - the territorial imperative. But now it is winter in the desert. Winter when the plants draw energy back into their roots and into the core of their being. The roots that reach deep into the earth. The roots that search out the eternal bounty of the earth itself. From the earth, sun and air the plant takes all that it needs to grow and thrive and support the next higher level of life. The plants that support those creatures that romp across the ground and fly up over the land. Living, mobile creatures seeking out new sources of information and new experiences to manifest and explore. Creatures eternally moving outward. Out into the farthest reaches of the known edge of the physical dimension and beyond. Creatures inexorably seeking to push the boundary of life just a little bit further. Seeking to encourage and incorporate into itself more and more beauty, light, understanding, and love in the ever-ongoing search for perfection.

Perfection, the unachievable goal, the never attained resting place. The place that would mean the end of this outward expansive breath of creation. Completion, the end of that expulsion out and the beginning of the drawing back in again of all things and all experiences into the One. Who can fathom the depth? Who can fathom the depth?

Time to play my flute.

Harmony in Life

2011-12-24T15:32:00.000-08:00

2011-10-03T14:39:00.000-07:00

Cloud Time

How long will the sun stay hidden behind that bank of clouds on the horizon? Will the sun rise above the clouds? Or will the clouds disappear? An unclouded sun will make it to hot to stay out in the desert.

Thank you for the house that provides me with shelter from the burning sun. Thank you for the wondrous people in my life. Thank you for the fellow beings with whom I share my life - my dog Honey, my son's dog Merlin, my wife’s cat Blue, my daughters two horses, Sheba and Rio. Here I stand by the grace of God, and that bank of clouds shading me from the sun. The sun is already five degrees high in the morning sky.

Perhaps the clouds will expand and cover the sky, buying me more time to wander in the desert. Or perhaps the clouds will recede and dissipate, leaving the sun as the soul object in the turquoise blue ocean of the sky. The Sun King beating on the anvil of the earth below with all his strength. His radiant energy driving me into my shelter as with all the other inhabitants of the desert.

There we will wait in the shade for the approach of night to bring us scurrying out again, out into the cool, soft, lovely night. When the deserts inhabitants come out to work and play, foraging and hunting, fighting and mating, living their nocturnal lives out of mans steely gaze.

I can feel the anticipation of the ending of summer stirring in my bones, far bellow my weary thoughts. The approaching fall, coolly seeping through those last clouded rays of the Summer sun.

Yet for now a new day of glorious adventure is dawning just for me. Ahh the shades of blue and gold in the sunrise - the optimism of a brand new day. The rainbow rayed sun, shedding life in the form of light onto the world. Sun, oh great, mighty, sacrificial one. Sun burning hot and bright that we might see and live under thee for all our days here on earth.

Mister Coyote Takes a Walk

2011-07-06T10:25:00.000-07:00

Mr. Coyote, I can hear him in the near distance - he's yipping' and yapping'. He's not chasing anything; he sounds like he’s talking to himself. This is a feat that only humans, and a few animals are capable of. Mr. Coyote is going on and on as I'm walking down this dirt track running through the desert. I'm wondering what's going on in his head. I keep my eyes open - because the sounds are getting closer and I would like to meet my Coyote friend, desert wanderer, and self-examiner. I'm watching, and then sure enough he comes around the corner not too far away, maybe 50 yards. Mr. Coyote is wagging his head side to side and yipping' to himself. Just like a person who'd gotten pissed off at missing a shot in a critical game.

So I think 'how long is it going to take this guy to realize that he's walking straight into the arms of a human being?' Not that I'm going to do anything bad to Mr. Coyote. But I don't want to blow his mind either. So I keep walking and watching, walking quietly in my moccasins. He doesn't hear me, or anything. His eyes are turned inward, examining the material that he was reviewing in his mind - the way people do sometimes, to excess actually.

He's like a comic on stage, he's talking to himself real fierce, his head going from side to side as he picks up both characters. The best I can understand of what he's saying is "I missed that rabbit, I had him and I missed him. And I missed him because my foot slipped; I missed him because I was trying to get two steps ahead of him instead of just one. Thinking too many moves ahead and then losing track of the now. Then Mr. Rabbit runs off and I start walking down some dirt road with an empty stomach."

Then he looks up and sees me. Of course he's got that semi mind blown holy shit I'm suspended over the hole that leads to hell and my next second on earth may be my last as a bullet pierces my flesh look on his face. Then all in the same process of a split second as he scopes the thing that's standing in front of him out, he sees it doesn't have a gun in its hand. So immediately he's like chilled behind that - because he knows that he won't get hurt now, he's too fast. He takes a hard look at this guy standing in the road.

So Mr. Coyote takes a look, not very interested in me. Except I catch a little whiff of embarrassment on his part. He's been caught with his pants down admitting to some flaw in his character in front of a complete stranger. This is something that he would never ever do with another pack member. With his friends he puts on his favorite front and nobody knows his inner workings and feelings. This is because he's holding onto his position as number one dog. And you don't stay on top by being stupid. Or by behaving in ways that other people may perceive to be stupid. If you do then you can get kicked down the hierarchy of respect.

Mr. Coyote, taking his time, shifts off to my left into the desert. I don't chase him and I don't vibe on him. I'm just happy to be alive. To be alive and to have witnessed the similarities, the glory of the Creation, manifesting in these diverse forms. Animals like ourselves, plants, the air, the spirits who give life to every speck of that stuff including what we call dark matter and dark energy. Stuff about which we know practically nothing! No words were ever truer spoken than these. We know practically nothing. We walk around pretending that we're the greatest thing God ever made - we're a human being. Yippee!

We can do this because we have forgotten that everything is the greatest thing that God has ever made. And everything is expressing itself to the fullest in complete harmony. A dynamic dance of energetic interchange in which all are equals. Brothers and sisters with the same inner purpose. Enjoy

Timeless Raindrops

2011-03-21T16:35:00.000-07:00

A raindrop sliding down the windowpane. A few snowflakes drifting in the morning air. The moss on the rock outside my window transformed overnight from black to emerald green. Time passing without pressure or direction. Remember? Remember the magical space/time of childhood? When we were suspended in a spell of wonder. Time without limit or direction. Sufficient unto itself in every way.

We can capture again that feeling when we play with our Native American Flute. Play like a child for the simple enjoyment of it. Because it is there and we are there. There is always time for us to enjoy. Time enough for everything. Time enough for Love. Time enough to relish life and the treasures it reveals with every falling raindrop.

To be a fisher in the sea of life requires patience. Calmly waiting for inspiration to surface into life. In the meantime we can gaze out at the sea. The endless sea of life spread before and around us as we journey in our little boat. We can feel the wind in our hair. And feel the heaving ocean carrying us forward on a journey without end.

We have our Love flute with us in our boat. We can play any time we want. Native American style flute music is the music of the sky and the winds and the sea. It flows through us without effort and shows the way. The timeless Way that always Is.

Some Desert Ramblings

2011-03-12T10:49:00.000-08:00

I’m just trying to get a grip on it. So much is happening, wife and kids, friends and business. My son Robert and all the things that are going on in Robert's life. Serena, and the wonderful things that are going on in Serena's life. My relationship with Cathy my wife. To be perfectly aware of her needs, attuned to her so that I interact to the best of my ability as a friend and a grateful companion.
And my Native American style flute business and all the wonderful people coming and going in my life, getting new flutes, having flutes repaired, sending emails and answering questions. I'm occupied dawn to dusk with this stream of happenings. Situations that need to be addressed, questions and conversation that needs to be taken part in.

But then there are the morning walks, when I can put on my moccasins, get my water bottle, set out across the street and then straight into the most glorious landscape on the Planet Earth. Broken ancient granite rocks a hundred million years old jutting out of the earth like the bones of dinosaurs. Glimpses of a snow capped mountain so blissfully near with its shining white cap, and yet so gratefully far with its freezing winds that don't reach me here in the desert.

My young Springer spaniel Merlin (Honey is laid up with a bad shoulder) racing across the landscape. Seeing him is like watching the most incredibly talented ballerina dancing across the worlds most intricate and exquisitely designed playground as he bounds and leaps over the rocks. A young spirit completely in harmony with itself, and enjoying the experience of life on a planet we call Earth.
Up into the broken rocks now, stepping from one to another - perfect balance.

What an experience, Avatar times a thousand, a thousand thousand. 3D real life adventure in the most beautiful of all worlds called Planet Earth. In the midst of that timelessness we call Creation. Incarnated into intimate close association with a physical body of glorious proportions and abilities. Abilities as yet unexplored by man. And in this body I stride across the desert on my moccasined feet feeling this Being, monstrous, unbelievable, mothering, gentle, loving, dynamic, self sustaining, almost immortal....almost immortal. Hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of millions of years of life continuously exploring and unfolding into a new dimension called time.

And to realize that in the midst of my everyday world I often lose track of the significance of time and get caught up in my petty worries about my business, about the situation with my family and others. The great other, the outside world, the Pinda world as my teacher called it.

The human world of illusion, the passing dream-like world of mans own mind. So that world exists. It goes on. But it is outside the confines of what is True and Holy. The human world, an insane manifestation of ego and greed coupled together bringing destruction to all the other life forms on earth - suffering and destruction. The human minds own manifestation of what we call, somewhat ambiguously, reality.
But this human reality is not in line with what makes possible a harmonious, fruitful, cooperative, collaborative, co creative manifestation of thought and action that we call Love. The love that is evident in every bush and tree and bird and animal and everything down to the most minute life form that is spontaneously graciously embracing the opportunity to manifest itself as a part of an evolving dimension.

Man long ago separated himself from that Eden and walked a path of mind centered, social creativity. A creativity involving patterns of interactive behavior and thought that manifests as the human derived world around us. It is embodied in the actions and creations of our fellow human beings.

I must accept it for what it is without judgment or despair, or anger, or even confusion and reaction. This human creation is perfectly obvious, it doesn't try and hide itself in fact it extols itself through every possible means available. The great and glorious creation of man. The wonderful world of what is called capitalism and somewhat disingenuously called free markets. A human world with its accompanying exploitation, wars and destruction, lies and deceptions, secret information held by only a select few. Information that the populous at a large is not deemed worthy or fit, or capable of seeing and understanding.

So this old man with his feet treading on this beautiful, wonderful, unbelievable planet has somewhat of a disconnect. Time to take out my Love flute and play away these thoughts.
To Be Continued

Around the Bend

2010-12-12T13:07:00.000-08:00

I know that there is a place somewhere down the road, not to far away. Perhaps just around the next bend, or over the next little rise in the rocks. It is a place whose horizon has no end, and the space above my head reaches to infinity. I will stand in that field as the sun is rising, as its rays are beginning to illuminate the outlines of the rocks and trees. I will stand erect with my eyes gazing in front of me. Then I will make a slow 360-degree turn and pan the horizon with my eyes for the last time. I will say goodbye to the mountains, I will say goodbye to the clouds, I will say goodbye to the moon, I will say goodbye to the sun and its rising majesty. I will say goodbye to all the lovely sights never to be seen again.
As I stand there I will apologize to all the people I have hurt in my life through my ignorance and my pain. I’m sorry. I let that go. Then I will remember all the people, all the wonderful people who have helped me along my path. Each one contributing something immeasurable, indefinable, beyond limits, to my life. Wonderful people who have broadened the horizon of my consciousness. Thank You. Though you know not who you are, you carried a message that was important for me. Thank You.
I will embrace the people who I have loved here on this earthly plane. For the last time I will feel their body press against mine in an ecstasy of trust and love. Thank you, I love you dearly. Perhaps I have not touched many. But that was not mine to decide, nor mine to judge what is beyond my understanding, far beyond, far beyond. Each and every one is an important member of my family. Playing their role to absolute perfection in this fantastic experience we call the evolution of human consciousness.
I will look again at the rays of the rising sun and at the moon overhead. I will see the mountains waiting patiently to catch the first rays of the sun. I will say goodbye with all my heart, to the glories that are life on this planet Earth.
But that must wait for another day, for there are many miles yet for these aging legs to wander, people to meet, wonderful conversations to have. Insights with all their brilliant beauty flashing here and there. Insights bringing messages of love and truth and joy. So I tarry awhile, look around at that wonderful field, and then go back into the desert. I climb back over a hill and re-enter the world of men again, one more time to say "Hello, what's going on?"

The Rising Sun

2010-11-24T15:48:00.000-08:00

The age of the warrior is almost over. The bloody sunset of this era of violence will soon fade from our eyes and memories. Already dawning is the age of Peace. The age of the singer, the dancer, the player of flutes. The age of the beater of drums, the lovers of women and of men, the lovers of the world, the darlings of creation, the hope of the future. A future when the sons and daughters of man will live in harmony with the earth. The days of death dealing are coming to an end. Oh blessed end to the millennia of strife and violence. The days, months, years, centuries, millennia of the bloody warriors were many. To long violence and the fear of violence held sway over the minds of hearts of humanity.
Soon the days of fear, want and exile will be over for ever. The doors are open wide to a new and glorious future. A future in which even the memory of violence is erased from the soul of mankind. We descended into the pit and toiled on the earth. Sweat poured from our brow and blood from our wounds. Man lived in fear, and died in pain. The wheel of time turns slowly, slowly, slowly on the axis of the Universe.
Everything we need is always and ever at our fingertips. When we are free of fear and give openly and generously to each other, there is no longer want. Children no longer experience poverty. Parents no longer experience fear and anxiety for the welfare of their children. In the world around us we see a social system that condones the suffering of children. A system that allows hunger to fill their bellies with pain and their eyes with tears. This system is Evil to its very core. It will soon be erased forever from the face of this beautiful, generous, loving, supportive planet we call Earth.
Oh glorious days of the rising sun with its gentle, nurturing rays. God given Sun radiating equally to all the energy of life. Spreading its wings of light across the sky. Blessing us with its abundant glory. Manifesting for us through every second of our lives its generosity and power. Hear us oh Sun, we are bringing your truth and light and strength into the world. We carry in our hand a piece of your torch. We carry in our heart the truth of your love. We too, each in our own unique way bare gifts of light to share and illuminate the hearts of our brothers and sisters. And they in turn do the same for us. Oh glorious day of the rising sun. Hope of mans liberation and fulfillment, in concert with the mothers and the fathers and the brothers and the sisters and the sons and the daughters singing a new song. Filling the air with joyful triumphant music, playing the drum, playing the flute, shaking the rattle, moving the feet dancing ecstatically, celebrating the dawn of a new age of Peace.

Honey is Getting Old

2010-10-27T15:46:00.000-07:00

I watch Honey now, she's changing... She's been changing all along. Life is just a long series of changes, and possibly transformations. Honey's days of running, and skipping across the desert, almost like a bird touching the ground, have passed. She will never experience that again. Now she walks slowly and prefers to stay in my footsteps.

If she explores ahead, she may go down one path and I'll choose another. Then Honey will have to backtrack to catch up with me. In her genes she knows that she can no longer expend that extra energy. So she follows dutifully and quietly at my heels.
Watching Honey age is a painful but enlightening experience, Because in her, in my dear Honey, I see myself. I feel things now in a rather alarming fashion - in pains that I have never experienced before. Once I had a body like the young Honey. It was the body of the young John. I also ran across the desert and my feet barely touched the ground. My body never said no, never said tired, never said pain; that is over for me as it is over for Honey.

But unlike Honey I choose not to go down the path of limitation, of progressive decline of changing behaviors, the new behaviors becoming ever limited in scope. If I listen to the messages of pain and begin to restrict my movements and activities in response to my body saying "No don't go there, No I'm tired, No don't do that" I’ll do what Honey is doing. Honey without thought follows the path of limitation. Her body says "be careful take it easy" and she obeys. The human mind, my mind, is different in one sense, I can tell my body what to do; I can override its genetic program, the one that slowly shuts down activity and spirals ever more rapidly toward death.

It is not because I fear death that I choose not to allow my body dictate to me. It is because I know that the natural progression can be changed through the simple act of will. "Yes I WILL take that step, I WILL except my pain as a messenger, as a gentle friend, as a new level of consciousness". I find these changes to be an interesting new sensation of awareness and fullness in my body. Because the pain shows me so many new places that I never knew existed. It helps in the visualization of my skeletal and muscular structure; like a light being shown into a dark corner. These new sensations light up areas of my body awareness which until this point had been totally unconscious.

The Sun is about to rise over the rocks. It's journey South into Winter progressing day by day. Will Honey and I be here to witness the winter solstice? Will we be here to watch the Sun reverse its course and begin to climb again towards the North and arch higher and higher across the sky? Will we see its rays becoming ever more intense and vivifying until they begin to bake the desert?

Now a cooler wind is blowing down from the mountains. October, more clouds in the air. Not a single bird singing this morning,. The mating season, that great pull of life to reproduce and expand itself is over. The Earth is going back to rest, the plants going back to rest, the birds moving further South to more abundant climes, to warmer winds.

The Blue Jays remain but they are silent now. Their last feeding frenzy of the Fall when the pinion pines opened their cones and exposed the tender seeds within is over. And now a Jay comes by to take a look at my strange presence in the middle of his world. He doesn't say a word. He doesn't cry in alarm. He just looks. We share this fall/ winter approaching landscape in silence.

Ahhhh the sun, peaking its burning corner above the rocks.

Trust, Love, Respect and the Fabric of Creation

2010-09-26T08:39:00.000-07:00

How do we take that most important of all steps? The step out side our selves. How can we, how can the world, find peace when it’s all about me, myself and I? I no longer envision this step as some sudden transformation. But, instead it is taking the form of many, small but important, changes in behavior. Remember the bumper sticker – “Practice Random Acts of Kindness”. How much difference could one small act of kindness make? We can never know until we do it. When it’s about me, we don’t do it. Hey isn’t it about making things easier for me. What do I get out of giving to the other guy?

Lack of trust in others. Lack of respect for others. Lack of Love for one of these the least of my children. When we do, if we do, it differently – without thought of reward – we make another step towards bringing the Kingdom of Heaven on Earth. If I don’t who will? I may not always experience positive results. But, I have been given direction by every saint and prophet and savior who has spoken out as the mouth of God that the result will not be lost. Our effort will never be in vain.

Why do we hesitate to believe and act on the clear directions that we have been given? Are we afraid that it won’t work – that we will be taken advantage of? Sure, that was OK for Jesus – I mean he was Jesus – but not for me. I’m just an ordinary person. But didn’t he say ‘what I do you can and must do also’.

So I extend my hand. And if it’s bitten, I will extend it again. That’s the hard part - I was nice to this guy and he hurt me, I won’t be fool enough to do that again. But, I must. I must offer trust again and again. In spite of knowing that sometimes my trust will be betrayed. How can I turn back now that I have put my shoulder to the plow?

I may not see the Kingdom in this lifetime. But I know it is coming. And I know that when I respect, love and trust you that the Kingdom draws nearer to us both and to all our brothers and sisters who labor in the fields of the Lord.

Sunday Morning Service

2010-08-24T08:19:00.000-07:00

I wake up at 3 PM. I’m fresh because I took a nap on Saturday to store up some extra energy. I know the moon will be setting soon. I would prefer to walk in the moonlight. Even if the moon is low in the sky near the horizon it reflects a lot of light. But I know that by the time I am prepared and into the desert the moon will have set below the horizon. The waiting dawn will not yet be visible. The land will be very dark. I know that darkness and don’t exactly relish it.

My pack is ready. I have water, and extra layer if it gets chilly, my Love flute. I fix a quick snack and get out of the four walls. I feed the horses as I pass by – half a ration. They will get the rest when I get back. I enter the darkness like going into a dense fog bank. Suddenly I can’t see my feet and barely see my hands. The world is a phantasmagoria of subtle lights. Every shape is vague and distant. Blue-gray is the dominant color.

The dark takes away the known with all it’s built in securities. Now I can barely perceive where I am in space. Chasms can open up under me upon a misstep. Walking becomes an absolute focus of attention. Feeling with my toes and the balls of my feet before committing my full weight to the step. My insecurities surface and must be neutralized or I will fall. I know from past experience that my body can do this if I can agree to let it.

It means doing strange things like walking on all fours. Using my body like my brothers the chimps and apes. Three secure places to balance on before committing to the next move. It’s slow – especially if I allow the mind to want to get somewhere. Then it becomes tedious. I must abandon myself to the now – no future, no past, just here. What comes may.

There are many mountains to climb. Places to go and people to meet and Native American style flutes to play. Will any of that happen? When I left my room I put thing in order knowing that I might never come back. Not that it would make any difference. Or would it? It feels right to me so that is the way I do it. What is the best way I can leave a room? Or leave a life?

The Birds Fly South

2010-08-15T09:47:00.000-07:00

The birds have stopped singing and the hot dry has gripped the desert. Now the days are getting shorter. The cool days of Fall are a longed for respite. Even knowing that the cutting winds of Winter are not far behind. The birds have already started to move higher into the mountains in search of food and more hospitable temperatures. Soon some will start the long journey South for the winter. Many of the smart desert plants are dropping their leaves so as to conserve precious water. They will lie dormant until awakened for Spring by the Winter rains – if there are any.

The Desert ecosystem is a master of the art of conservation of energy. As I get older and the vigor of my youth wanes I understand better the necessity of energy efficiency. The impulse to measure my every movement for waste brings with it a certain respect for the limitations that come with physical life. It is a reminder that nothing can exist outside of the Circle of Life and its delicate balance of creation and dissolution, birth, life and death.

How have we managed to lose contact with Mother Nature? We are bleeding her to death to fuel a joy ride that cannot be sustained. Where is the respect for the land that generations before ours took so seriously?

Now I devote myself to making happiness available to a world hungry for a feeling of peace and togetherness. Happiness in the form of a simple musical instrument called the Native American flute. It’s not a grand project, I know. It won’t attract any government funding or a spot on Ophra. But, it’s enough for me to know that every Love flute is making a difference is someone’s life. Somewhere there is a song where before there was none. Someone is playing a tune and others are listening. The world turns another time. The birds start South. Tomorrow I will return to my shop and make a few more flutes.

Drops of Summer Rain

2010-07-11T10:03:00.000-07:00

The big dry is tightening its grip on the desert. The bees are frantically working the last of the nectar from the fading acacias. The jujube fruit is ripening. Even as this is happening the sun is moving again towards the South. Summer monsoon rain clouds gathered this morning as the sun rose. I even felt a few invisible drops on my exposed arms. Just those miniscule scattered droplets brought hidden aromas into the air. The clouds provide a welcome respite from the terrible power of the Summer sun.

My children are growing up. Never again will I feel them cuddling in my arms as I sit in my chair. Now they are slowly detaching from my protective embrace. Ready to try the world on their own. Young birds scurry about after their parents. Learning the ways of their new world. Now mother and father begin to drive the off. Time to become independent. Some will make it. Others, not so strong, clever or just plain lucky fall by the wayside.

Soon I will no longer be able to provide protection and guidance for those I love so dearly. I will leave this place of joys and sorrows to go on to the next stage of my journey. Will I look back and remember? The lessons learned, the struggles won and lost?

In a similar fashion civilizations are born and fade again into the sands of time. O when will we find release from this epoch of violence and anger? So many lives sacrificed on the altar of ignorance and superstition. The treasure of an entire planet, nurtured and preserved for billion of years, squandered in a few generations of mindless consumption. The wealth of the ages used to maim, kill and destroy. The genius of mankind turned upon itself.

We have lost our way and wander in ignorance. One brother takes up arms against another to kill him. When will a true Messiah return to save us from ourselves? Father in heaven we cry out to you. Send us help. Teach us anew how to live in your ways. We who are in such need beseech you. Put your healing hand on our bleeding wounds and deliver us from the evil that has gripped the land.

An Answer or a Question

2010-06-17T07:21:00.000-07:00

How did I happen to arrive here, in a human body, on planet earth? Leaving open the question of where and what I was before I arrived here – I now find myself in a place called space and time. I don’t know about you but for me the trip hasn’t been easy.

Sometimes I intimate that I had some precognition that coming here would not be a picnic. But for some reason that I can’t remember I signed on anyway. Any prior knowledge of what I was in for got wiped clean by the shock and awe of the entry process and its immediate aftermath. I mean wow! To be dropped into a social phenomena in full on freak out mode. Here I am, weighing eight pounds, totally helpless, unable to do anything for myself. I’m dependent for survival on a couple of messed up, barely functional characters that can hardly take care of themselves much less a newborn baby. They call themselves Mom and Dad. And they managed somehow, screwed up as they were, to keep me alive. Physically alive – but the psychological trauma was overwhelming. I’m still dealing with the residual defensive programs I created to protect my mind from the onslaught of their terrifying behavior.

I know something similar must have happened to you too. I haven’t met anyone here who, if they are being open and honest, doesn’t cop to having found themselves in a similar situation. Of course most people I meet are in total denial/defensive mode. So they are not and cannot be open and honest. They are functional – if you can call it that. But their network of unconscious defensive behaviors doesn’t allow for open meaningful communication. Either they have found refuge in some God the big, perfect father religion. Or they are lost in a state of perpetual frenetic activity based on acquiring things and having pleasurable experiences.

This begs the question – what is the purpose of my being here? So far no clear answer has come to me. My best intuition is that I am involved in some sort of learning process. I am discovering that this space/time dimension must be some sort of classroom. Is it a classroom where I am being exposed to experiences that can provide information about the nature of my self?

Buddha said that the origin of suffering was desire. Desire for what? I have this feeling that there is something just out of reach and that if I only possessed it everything would be OK. The nagging uncertainty would be erased and I would be at peace. Jesus, in a more Zen like mode, says get over it - the Kingdom is at hand – it is within you. What impulse, what motivation, gave Jesus, Buddha and all the myriads of saints and prophets the energy to reach out to those around them? What did they expect to accomplish? Buddha’s followers have written thousands upon thousands of words trying to convey the essence of something beyond words. Jesus left behind a few confused people who saw their dream of the Kingdom on earth evaporate like a fog in the heat of the day.

What is that something that is so hard to communicate? Is it impossible to communicate? Is that something waiting patiently. It has always been there and always will be there – hidden in plain sight. Waiting for someone to recognize it. Talk, scream, jump up and down – no one will listen. Oh go on, the Kingdom of God is within me? I don’t think so. And I have so much to do. Do you have a sermon? A tape I can listen to? I like what you are saying, you should write a book. Then I can read about this Kingdom you’re talking about. I’ll find time; I’ll get around to it. And I’ll think about it too. Honestly I will.

I have my flute. It channels the music that flows without hesitation, without pause. The music that has always been there in the wind blowing though the trees and the birds announcing a new dawn. Is it just beyond reach or already here? Does the music have the answer? Or does it simply pose a question? Are the questions a progressively expanding state of awe that in itself contains the only answer? Have a nice day and fulfill the promise.

Just the Other Side of Who We Are

2010-06-11T08:02:00.000-07:00

We have our life. But no matter how much stuff we acquire it feels like there is something missing. A hidden something that if it were just to be revealed everything that was not right would be right. There would no longer be a longing because the picture would be complete. We’re sitting in front of a fire surrounded by everyone we love and we all know that it couldn’t be any different. It couldn’t be any better. We know that wherever we go we are always in the right place and that everything we need is always with us.

What is that place? Is it already here? Is it always here and we’re too busy being busy to notice it. Why does it take some tragedy, like the death of a loved one to make us realize that we didn’t give enough. That we didn’t take enough. That we were too busy to listen and now the missed opportunities haunt us like a mother with open arms that will never be filled.

When we play, when we forget the worries and pressures of ourselves we touch something precious. That something is an intimation of the space that is filled with love. The love that is asking only to be recognized in order to become present.
We intuit with a poignant regret that we’re missing something. The most important thing. The one thing that will bring healing and peace. We’re missing the connection to that place just beyond who I am.

Remember, you have touched that place. You know where it is. The music coming from your Indian flute calls you over to that side where the sun shines on a meadow filled with Spring wildflowers. In that meadow is the answer and the love that we know we have somehow lost sight of. When the music ends and you put down your Native American flute don’t forget that meadow. Keep it in your heart throughout the day. Don’t forget to tell people that you love them. It feels strange at first, I know. But it gets easier. You can give the very best of yourself. The sunshine of that perfect place gives you strength. You are a spring of living water and that water is love.

Time, Space, Love and the Native American Flute

2010-06-04T07:54:00.000-07:00

We measure space by the five directions – North, South, East, West, Up and Down. We measure time in years, days, hours, minutes and seconds. With this mental construct we give order to the space-time continuum. We experience ourselves within space and time as a conscious awareness. I am. I am finds itself emanating form a material form we call the human body. This body, we now know, has taken billions of years to achieve its present configuration. We find ourselves to be a locus of experience within the form of a living, mobile, organic being capable of speculating on the source of its existence.

With our body we move about on the surface of a ball of matter we call a planet. This ball is itself moving through something we call space at an incredible speed. This planet is one of a whole family of spheres of matter rotating around a huge ball of energetic activity we call the Sun. This Sun, a star, is one of an inconceivable number of other stars.

Time, space, matter, awareness. To what end, to what purpose, have these come into existence. I sit at my computer and you sit at yours. We don’t know each other. But we are asking similar questions. What is this experience of Life for? Am I here for a reason? Is there purpose in Life? Toward what end have billions of years of careful, patient evolution been moving? Idle questions – No!

Pick up your flute. Play a tune. Wonder at the perfection of sound filling inner and outer space. Feel the joy of being alive and having the divine opportunity to express your life in music. With your music sing praise to the Power that has brought into being this wonderful world. The Power that sustains you, me and all the wondrous forms and feelings that are the Universe.

Play and Heal With the Native American Flute

2010-05-31T08:02:00.000-07:00

This morning I went out into the desert before dawn. The air was cool with just an edge of crispness. With my flute in my backpack I start off into the hills. In the West the moon is almost full. A faint glow of the coming sun is barely visible in the East. I have moccasins on my feet I walk softly. I feel the body of Mother Earth through the soles.

For several years now I have made it a habit to spend my Sunday mornings alone in the Desert. For me nature is the power of God manifest in physical form. On Sunday morning the world pauses for a moment. There is a palpable relaxation of tension as society takes a pause in its busy schedule. The disturbing sounds of people bustling off to work are absent.

Gradually the light of the magnificent Sun returns to a still sleeping world. The first bird song pierces the stillness of the dawn. A mocking bird announcing his territorial imperative. The air resonates with his thrill of life. Reaching a familiar hilltop I put down my pack and take a long drink of water. I take my flute out of its bag and begin to play.

Off in the distance a civilization is dying. The age of the merchants is ending. They have held us in thrall to their sirens call of material wealth for so long. The age of the mystic-lover is dawning. This new civilization is like a rising Sun. It is now a faint light on the horizon. Our hearts thrill to the promise of a new day.

The Native American flute is a tool that is helping bring about this change. It brings each of us into contact with our true self. Our true self is Love. We are children of light. We are sons and daughters of the Holy power that has brought into being and supports all Life. The Love flute helps bring us into direct contact with that power. Music is part of the very fabric of creation. It is a link to the always-mysterious flow of creative energy that we call the Universe.

With each new player the circle of Love grows. We meet in a place that is without boarders. It is an expanding circle with the larger circle of Life. When we pick up our flutes and play we bring healing harmony into a dissonant society. You and I and everyone who expresses his heart through the Indian flute are emissaries from the Kingdom come.

There is nothing to do. No plans to make or speeches to give. Powers beyond our ability to conceive are flowing through each one of us. Healing and hope for the future are in our music. With our simple songs we send out an invitation to forgive, relax, enjoy and play together.

May the Holy power of the Father – Mother be with you this and every day. May your flute songs sing out healing to a troubled world. May peace reign on Earth.

Wood Species and Tonal Quality in the Native American Style Flute

2010-05-16T16:25:00.000-07:00

I do not put wood type near the top of my list of things that affect tonal quality in Native American style flutes. That does not mean that I am not aware that different types of wood produce different types of tone. I do not personally use soft woods such as cedar and redwood. There are many factors that lead to this decision. I will not go into them here.

Wood density is measured on a scale called the Janka Hardness Scale. Alaska cedar, for example, has a rating of 580. Ipe, a dense tropical hardwood, has a rating of 3680. The hardwoods that I use range from a density of 1010 for black walnut to Indian rosewood with a rating of 3170.

There is no such thing in nature as a pure sign wave tone. Any tone – like a tone in the key of A – is always a mixture of tones. The predominant tone is that of A – vibrating at 440 Hz. But, mixed in with that tone are other tones both above 440 Hz and below it. These tones are called overtones. They add color to the pure sign wave or note.

Wood that is lower in density, such as walnut, has a tendency to selectively absorb sound vibrations of a certain wavelength. The vibrations that have the greatest tendency to be absorbed are the higher vibrations or overtones. Higher density woods tend to reflect these overtones not absorb them. Tones that are not absorbed by the wood itself are projected out into the surrounding atmosphere and strike the ear. Thus, they become part of the musical experience. Overtones that are absorbed into the wood do not get projected out into the atmosphere. They do not reach the ear and consequently do not become part of the musical experience.

A flute that is in the key of A has a brighter tone than a flute in the key of E. Higher overtones, like higher keyed flutes, are usually called bright overtones. Some people prefer higher, brighter tones. Others prefer lower, moodier tones. It is my opinion that a good flute should have the proper balance of higher and lower tones.

When I am making a flute in a higher key – such as an A – I want to balance the tonal quality. The flute is naturally going to be bright. If it is too bright then the tone can begin to sound hard and penetrating. If I were following my own personal preference I would prefer to use a lower density wood. I would do this to absorb some of the higher overtones. By neutralizing these extreme tones I would take some of the edge off the hardness. The resulting flute would sound more comfortable to the ear.

Lower keyed flutes on the other hand tend to be dull. If I were making a flute with a lower tone such as an E or lower I want to preserve bright overtones. So I would make the flute out of a harder wood. In my experience the harder the wood the better. I do this because the flute is already laid back in tonal quality. I want to preserve as many bright tones as I can so that they are projected out into the atmosphere. By preserving the bright warm overtones the flute retains as much of a happy, bright quality as possible. These qualities are the ones that tend to be lacking in the lower keyed flutes.

These are not hard and fast rules. Every hand made instrument is different. Some, perhaps many, will violate these principles. Also, as I have tried to explain in previous articles, there are many other factors that are simultaneously having their effect on the tonal character of the flute.

Subtraction and Addition

2010-04-25T18:00:00.000-07:00

Subtraction and Addition or Learning to Play the Native American style Flute

It sometimes seems to me that learning to play the Native American flute is more a matter of subtraction than addition. I don’t seem to be adding knowledge about how to play the flute. What I have been doing is subtracting all the faulty psychological programs that stand between me and freedom from fear. It is the fear of failure, of not doing it right, of what others may think that inhibits my playing. These fears keep me from allowing the flute to express itself in whatever way it chooses.

I intuit that these fears were implanted early in childhood. Unrealistic expectations. Demands to do it the right way. Testing and the fear of failure. These anxieties come between me and the freedom to play with absolute abandon. When due to some combination of intent and divine good fortune I enter the zone, playing becomes a truly creative experience. It is an experience where sounds I have never heard before are manifesting. And feelings that I seldom experience are rising to the surface.

Some of us will take our flute playing to places that others will not. This is natural and perfectly OK. Each of us has his own individual lessons to learn and songs to express. This diversity is what makes life so fascinating. How dull if we were all the same. Or how dull if we were all striving for the same goal. Perhaps there are an unlimited multitude of goals. Each one tailor made to allow the individual – you and me - to reach his fullest potential. If we let go of goals to be reached will we find that there are no goals? Will we find there are only roads to travel on? Are we each a traveler on one of an infinitely varied number of roads? With each road being a unique exploration of the evolving Universe of sound.

Why do we have to measure ourselves by some external standards of achievement? Is it not more enjoyable to simply let go and play.

2010-03-14T14:08:00.000-07:00

Judgmental Behavior and Playing the Native American Style Flute

I was listening to a flute CD that someone had sent me. It was an exuberant, openhearted expression of pure joy. To the discerning – might I say critical – mind it did not conform to the established standards of ‘good music’. But it’s limitations in that respect was more than compensated for by its enthusiasm. The Native American style flute is helping to liberate many of us from our habit of evaluating and criticizing everything. Especially as this behavior applies to self-criticism.

Why can’t we just relax and have fun? Why are we so hard on ourselves? The culture of correctness and perfection has taken the fun out of life. Playing the flute or expressing our selves in any way must be based on freedom from fear of criticism, especially self-criticism. Otherwise we’re perpetually caught in the spot light. Everyone is looking. And if we don’t do it right there will be a price to pay. That price is self-respect. Holding ourselves up to impossible standards or other people’s standards means that we are always setting ourselves up to fail. We live under a dark cloud of our own creation. Actually, we didn’t create it.

It started when we were children. Constant criticism of our performance. We were always doing it wrong. Who doesn’t? Life is a learning process in which we must have the freedom to make mistakes without fear of criticism. Nobody gets if right all the time – or even most of the time. Practice, practice, practice - until we end up hating what we are doing. We may become good at it but we’re not having fun anymore. So what’s the point?

In tune? We can become so devoted to being in tune we’re dead to joy. Making a fetish out of playing it right is like wanting the sun to shine the same way every day. ‘That’s the way it should shine’ say the purists. Not too bright. Not too dull. Just this way and this way only. What if I like it a little brighter? What if I don’t care? Who dares set the standards for what is the right amount of sunlight for a sunny day?

When we whole-heartedly grant others the right to do it any way they please or are capable of we can be released from our own self-criticism. Life is a Circle of such diversity that there is room for everyone. Let the breath of life go out through your flute into a receptive world. You can change your life and the world one song at a time.

Musical Orthodoxy

2010-02-28T09:49:00.000-08:00

Musical Orthodoxy or How I Find Freedom Through the Native American Style Flute

There are certain recognizable musical forms. We may call them songs or numbers or tunes. They are often repeated note for note and recorded. They may be very entertaining. Or catchy. We would like to play like that. Be good. Be recognized and admired. Why can’t I play like Scott August, or Peter Phippen or one of the other recognizable players. Those guys and women are great. I don’t play like them because they are professional musicians. They are schooled and by natural gift endowed with the ability to craft a tune that attracts and holds your attention. Some have made it their life’s work.

That is not who I am. I will never – excepting Devine intervention – play like that. Good for me. Now, having given up on fame and public acclaim I can just let my music be me. It’s not easy because it takes some effort to let go. I consciously let go of the critical and apprehensive aspect of my ego self. But, once I do that I find that I can make no mistakes. If a note is perceived to be not right, then if I let the next and then the following note flow out the flute. Then the mistake disappears. The mistake has become incorporated into the flow of notes coming through the flute. The perception of mistake was part of the self-criticism program of the ego. Dad said I was a screw up and I had no choice but to believe him. But, Dad’s not here any more. Now I am that critical voice. Putting myself down. The flute is teaching me that there is another way. I can forgive myself in the present. I ignore that voice and go on playing as if I had never heard it. I am OK. I can do it right. Dad was wrong. I don’t have to listen to him any more.

I know a professional Jazz drummer. Jazz is about improvisation. He told me that guys in the group make mistakes all the time. Everyone just covers for them and the music goes on. No one criticizes or cares. It’s not that way – about judgment or failure.. The audience never knew it. The note or beat disappears in time. The music goes on.

So the music is mine and Gods to share. If someone else is listening they can’t tell that there was a wrong note. They don’t know that I cringed in fear inside. They aren’t aware that I had made a mistake and was called on it. They may or may not like what I am playing. They may call it just a bunch of notes. However, I hear the song. And so does God. We know that we are doing just fine. Thanks you very much.

I have never set out to learn how to play. I have never taken a lesson. I’m just gratefully messing around with this little piece of wood. It tells me that I’m doing fine. That’s all I want to hear.

2010-02-20T10:22:00.000-08:00

A Flute Journey

I stand in a clearing. It’s just an opening in the woods with a little sun light penetrating to the forest floor. Down the path in the direction we call the Future lies a larger meadow, filled with light. From that meadow you can see the mountains in the distance. The sky is clear and the mountaintops are covered with snow. That clearing is my death. On a day not many days away I will enter that meadow. I will look around lovingly at the beauty of a world that I walked for too short a time. I will take a long look back down the path we call the Past. I will lovingly revisit the events of my life. Events that struck me with all the weight of a reality that now seem somehow just a dream. I will take my flute out of its bag and play my last tune. In that song will be all the joy and pain that I encountered on the path. Love and loss. What a wonderful journey. And, when the last note sounds and it’s echo has faded into silence. I will leave.

I remember picking up my first Native American style flute. It was a crooked piece of river cane lying on a blanket on the ground. Isn’t it wonderful how things are arranged so that we get every thing we need at the perfect time and place. It’s as if some divine intelligence were orchestrating each event. Is it not so?

The sounds that came out of that flute were weak and breathy but for me they were a wondrous discovery. Music was coming out of a hollow tube. Moving my fingers changed the sounds. A space of relaxation and discovery began to open up inside me. I had no goal in mind. I wasn’t intent on learning anything. I felt no need to do it the right way or be good at it. And, I didn’t care what others might think of these sounds. What a relief.

The flute has been my companion ever since. A friend whose gentle voice has soothing powers. The flute has been the catalyst for so many wonderful people coming into my life. It has become my profession and the source of my sustenance. It has taught many lessons and I’m sure has more yet to impart.

Thank you all for sharing this wonderful path with me.

2010-01-03T10:17:00.000-08:00

Follow the Flute

The song is constantly changing. Never completely different but never entirely the same. The song constantly finds new ways to express itself. Discovering new pathways of sound through the confusion of life. Pathways that are clearer by far than anything I have ever known. I would not want it to be any other way. If the tone is sharp or flat relative to some artificial standard – what do I care. How boring to be trying to be always the same. Let freedom ring and come out of the Native American style flute and reach every crevice of conventionality. Playing the song because it’s there to be done. Not measuring or judging according to some external yardstick. Knowing that every note is enough in all places and at all times. My song unique. And your song as well. Gently blowing forth notes into the unknown. Not expecting to hear it again – perhaps ever. Letting life unfold and music go out into it. Becoming part of the grand symphony of the Universe unfolding and discovering itself. And always finding itself to be good, sufficient, whole and happy. The music is saying that in spite of every dark cloud and feeling of pain there is I – the music – I heal all discomfort.

I play for the desert birds as they wake in the morning. I hear their reply. They are the great, indefatigable singers. My song joins theirs. The song that has been playing as long as there has been air to carry the sound.

Sunday in the morning. Two days after dead of Winter full moon. The Sun circle has turned. The Earth is coming back again out of the darkness of the once was and into the light of a new year. Night is waneing and Day is waxing. May this year bring blessing to all the Brothers and Sisters. May it bring Peace on Earth and good will towards all men. May our enemies become our friends. And may light and healing flow out through our music to a waiting world.

2009-12-25T11:25:00.000-08:00

Fear and Greed

What have we got to fear? With me it’s fear of loss. Loss of love. Loss of respect. Loss of security. I feel fear of failure. I don’t want to feel that others are judging or condemning me. This makes me afraid.

What have we got to be greedy about? I’m greedy/needy for recognition. Greedy for accomplishment or mastery of Life. I want to have it all and to keep it forever. Good luck.

The Native American style flute allows me to opportunity to confront my fear and greed. In order to learn and grow I must allow myself the right to make mistakes without labeling them as failures. To do this I must leave my fears behind. I accept that I am not going to be perfect all the time. This is OK. In fact only by giving myself the right to be imperfect can I continue to grow with my flute. My music is an exploration. Sometimes it leads to unexpected notes. Notice I did not say wrong notes. An unexpected note opens the space for a new improvisation to evolve. The improvisation finds a way to use the new note. The music improvises new ways to integrate the note into established patterns. This leads to new opportunities for expression. If we stay within the boundaries circumscribed by our fear of hitting a wrong/bad note nothing new happens. We are safe. But we are going in circles.

My greed wants me to be accomplished. I want to be confident that I have it wired. I don’t want to make mistakes. The mistakes that can lead to judgment or shame. Right! Try and make that one work. However, the music is a jealous lover. It will not allow of split attention. If my focus is on getting it right then I will not be surrendered to the music.

I know that the music coming through the flute can transport me to a place without fear and greed. The music is all that exists. Nothing else matters. My unique contribution to the universe is expressing itself in music. If no one hears – that’s OK. If the whole world hears – that’s OK too. What’s the difference? The flute has the answer.

Today we celebrate the birth of a man who sacrificed his life publicly so that the message ‘you are forgiven’ could get across. He told us that we can let go of our fear of failure. We can let go of our desire to be perfect. The Universe gives us the right to make mistakes. In fact it encourages us to do so.

Tuned In

2009-12-12T11:34:00.000-08:00

What does ‘in tune’ mean? What is ‘being in tune’ any way and does it matter? Is your flute ‘in tune’? Is my flute ‘out of tune’? Am I out of tune? Are you out of tune? Are we ‘in tune’ with each other?

What happens if we are ‘out of tune’? Is that a bad thing? I’m getting confused – maybe I’m not in tune with what’s happening. Am I OK? Are you OK? Are our flutes OK? What will people think? Oh my God – I’m getting nervous about all this. Maybe something is wrong. I don’t want to be out of tune. Do you?

Now, relax and take a deep breath. We will try and sort out some of these questions. Then perhaps we will be in tune with tuning.

Music, like just about everything else in the modern world we live in has become standardized. If you want to be ‘in tune’ according to the latest (there have been many) standard then A is 440 Htz. This has not always been the standard. It is thought (though not proven) that Bach tuned to 415 Hz for A. Over the years there has been a steady creep upwards. This is because the higher frequency sounds ‘sweeter’ (what ever that means). I read somewhere – but don’t quote me – that what stopped the upward creep was opera singers. They rebelled because the high notes kept getting higher to the point that they were straining their voices to reach them.

So, by today’s standards if you want your flute to be in tune it should be calibrated to the big 440. Unless they have what is called perfect pitch most people can’t distinguish the difference between 440 Hz and 430Hz. Or 440 Hz and 450Hz. It sounds the same to them. Let’s draw a comparison with temperature. Can you distinguish between water that is 80F and water that is 82F? Or water that is 80F and 78F. Probably not. And if you could would that change anything.

There are flute players who carry around electronic tuners in their pockets. If a flute is not dead on at 440Hz they get all judgmental. They don’t even listen to the flute. Nor do they feel what is happening in themselves when they hear the sound. For them it’s all about what the electronic tuner says. I call these types tuning Nazis.

There is a myth out there that 432 Hz is the God ordained perfect pitch for A. Somehow 432Hz is thought to embody some cosmic harmonic or standard. This particular tuning is claimed to have profound effects on consciousness and on the cellular level of our bodies. But I have found no empirical evidence to support this claim. Lack of empirical evidence does not mean that this slightly lower tuning doesn’t have a different effect. I must confess that I prefer a flute that is tuned to about 432. This means that the flute is a little flat by contemporary standards. But I am going by the way I feel about it. Not by some standard of what is right or wrong. I’m not claiming it’s a magic number or sound. Or has healing properties.

So what does all this have to do with you and your flute?

For me the whole purpose of playing the Native American style flute is to relax and have fun. Playing my flute can help me get into a space where I am enjoying myself. Honestly, the last thing I am thinking about is whether or not my flute is in tune. I played my first simple river cane flute for a year and had a great time. Of course that little flute was way out of tune. I didn’t know it. Nobody complained. And, being “out of tune’ didn’t affect my enjoyment one bit. When I upgraded to another flute it was not to be ‘in tune’ but to get a clearer, sweet sound and more volume.

Relax, get in tune with your self and the world around you. Play. Is your flute out of tune? Does it really matter? Enjoy!

2009-11-14T14:57:00.000-08:00

Something’s Happening Here

We know that something new is happening. Many people are being called from within to explore new ideas and behaviors. For one thing, music is coming into our lives in new ways. Drum circles and flute circles are forming everywhere. We are making our own music instead of just listening to the music of others. We are getting together with others to make music and exchange ideas.

We know that it is not about what is good for big business and big money. We are not consumers – we are people. People with ideas, feelings, needs and desires. It does not matter what name we use - Yahweh, Lord, Allah, Krishna. We are being called from within. It is a call to find a new relationship with our Mother Earth and with each other. A relationship of respect, appreciation, understanding and love.

Music is the universal language. It speaks to all hearts without the need for words. When we are making music we are communicating in a universal language. A good deal of that communication appears to be with our selves. As we play, as we listen to the tunes that come through us, we become aware that something more than our individual existence is being expressed.

Music is a gift that is given to us to use and enjoy. Remember who the giver is? The music that a person can express through a Native American style flute has a relaxing and centering quality. The flute is a tool. It is a tool that we can use to exorcise old fears and anxieties. Let go and let the flute teach you. As we heal ourselves we are changing the world. The healing opens a space for new ideas and behaviors to enter into reality.

We are sensitive, empathetic beings who want only what is best for ourselves and for others. Get a hold of a drum, rattle or Native American style flute and start playing. When the time is right you will find others to play with. The music that we are making is bringing the world closer together. Imagine.

2009-10-15T16:51:00.000-07:00

Playing With the Native American Style Flute

We have learned how to work hard, practice and get it right. But, this is not what the Native American style flute is about. With the flute we can learn how to play again.

We have become so focused and goal oriented that it is difficult for most of us to just relax, let go and have some fun. With the Native American style flute you can change some of those constricting patterns. Just pick up your flute and start fooling around. Remember, the flute will teach you. You can’t fail or make mistakes – let go of that emotional attitude. If you will allow yourself the space to relax, explore and just have fun you will develop a relationship with the Native American style flute that will be different than anything else you have experience in your adult, goal oriented life.

It’s good therapy to have something that you don’t have to work at. Can you remember your very early years when you were learning to ride your bike? You didn’t need to be going some place you were some place – on a bike, learning new muscle memory, checking it out. That’s how playing the flute can be. It’s fun just like learning to ride a bike was fun.

Playing The Native American style flute in the pentatonic scale is not an intellectual experience. It is an intuitive experience. Just like learning to ride a bike is not an intellectual experience. You don’t think about how to ride a bike – you just get on and start doing it. Of course, you’re not proficient at first. But, as you continue riding it gets easier and easier. Pretty soon you’re not even thinking about it any more – you’re just flowing along, balanced and free. It’s the same with the flute. Give yourself a little time and without any special effort you start to hear music coming out of your flute.

Once we could ride with confidence we were always trying new things. Perhaps we weren’t even consciously aware of it. We were just enjoying ourselves exploring the experience of bike riding – taking a sharper turn, making a quick stop. We did it just because it was fun. You will find yourself doing the same thing with your flute. First, you go over the basics until you know them by heart. Then, when you are bored with that you will start to explore new notes, new speeds, longer jumps from one note to another. You want to do this just like you wanted to increase you proficiency with riding – because it’s there, because you love it.

The music carries you forward deeper into itself. What’s happening here? More and more people are picking up the Native American style flute and finding something that had long been forgotten. Discovering a part of themselves that was dormant – waiting to be awakened. A flower opening in the morning sun.

Let the Flute Teach You

2009-07-07T16:01:00.000-07:00

Let The Flute Teach You

You are one with all that is.
The Universe is an expression of order and purpose.
All of its parts desire to be in Harmony with each other.
This feeling of Universal Harmony is called Love.
Music is part of the fabric of Creation.
The physical dimension of our Universe is made up of vibrating energetic particles.
We ourselves are vibrating energetic beings.
The vibrating waves of sound that we call Music have a cleansing and healing quality.
Music can have a calming and centering quality that facilitates the process of personal self-realization.
The highest form of self-realization is to be a co creative extension of that power we call God.
Music is Love expressed as sound.
Music is a gossamer web of sound vibration expressing order, creativity and uniqueness.
As you express the music from within you discover its value as a means of communication.
You will also discover that the music does not belong to you.
Music is Universal.
It is of all peoples, in all places, at all times.
Music emerges from a dimension of the Cosmos that is beyond time and space.
You are an instrument that is being played upon.
You are being used to bring into existence the sounds of Love.
If you are feeling the call to make music
Follow your spirit without hesitation.
The music that comes through your flute will help bring Peace and Harmony to you and those around you.
As you play you will be expanding your consciousness and contributing in an active way to the creation of Heaven on Earth.
It’s easy.
Thousands of people like you are playing.
With your flute you will embark on a new and enriching journey.
Begin to play a Native American style flute and express the sounds of your soul.

Craftsmanship or Good Enough is Not

2008-12-26T16:54:00.000-08:00

Craftsmanship or Good Enough Is Not

There is a certain presence that has its place in a corner of my mind just behind my eyes. I call it a presence because it has a life of its own. This is my quality control inspector. The inspector has a mind/soul independent of me. I can, as I often do, be looking at a flute in progress. The flute has just completed a particular operation and is being held in front of my eyes. It looks good. But, from a certain angle there is something not quite right. Not there. It is good enough. However, the quality inspector says go back and make another minor adjustment. Good enough is not.

It’s not about making a perfect flute. The perfection I’m after is to be sought in the act of creating not the object being created.

Have I reached my ideal of what it means to be a craftsman? No. Am I striving for it? Yes. I will know I am there when the quality inspector not longer needs to be present. There is an aspect of my approach to my craft that is too goal oriented. I want to get things done, to see results, to finish product. Let’s face it - to make money. After all “time is money” is it not? In the midst of that ‘time is money’ space there is a discernable urge to let the ‘good enough’ be. Put that flute down and go on to the next flute. Oh, thank you God for the inspector. Or is God in the inspector? Saying - wait a minute, let’s look at that flute again. Let’s look at you again. I know when I feel that message that I have strayed away from the center. I am not a Craftsman I am a flute maker.

I consider it a great Grace to hear and be given the strength to act on that admonition. Having acknowledged the message, how can I not make the necessary shift in consciousness? I reorient the center of what I am and what I am doing. This shift is not about making better flutes – although better flutes will result. It’s about being a better me. Being a Craftsman and not a flute maker.

When I embody Craftsmanship the inspector is no longer needed. He is no longer present. In fact he not longer exists. The shift from goal orientation to a process orientation is complete and self-fulfilling. Being there in the work. Where every movement is part of a dance and the dance is the dance of Life. Colors and dimensions deepen and richen. Not making money to support a life. Centered in the middle of Life. Knowing with certitude that this is all that is necessary. Letting Life take care of providing the money.

Craftsmanship, Tools, Time and the Native American Flute

2008-12-25T11:16:00.000-08:00

I have devoted myself to perfecting the craft of making a Native American Style flute. This is not a goal that I set out for myself with conscious awareness. It took place spontaneously. As often happens in life working with the flutes has provided me the opportunity to discover different aspects of my self.

My father was a craftsman of the old school German tradition. He acquired his craftsmanship mentality from his father and from his early training a cabinetmaker. I must confess that I did not inherit his tradition of craftsmanship willingly. My apprenticeship started at an early age. This apprenticeship consisted of standing by my fathers’ bench as he worked on whatever project inspired him at the moment. I would much rather have been outside playing with my friends.

When my father wanted a tool he would ask me to hand it to him. If he needed a third or fourth hand mine was available to him. I cursed the idle time in which I would stand at the ready for his next command. My heart was filled with anger as I dreamed of the ball game that was going on in my absence. But in spite of these negative emotions and without my being aware of it I was absorbing a tradition of Craftsmanship.

In that space at his bench my father loved what he was doing. It was not his job. It was his passion. He was absorbed in the process of creation. In spite of his austere, distant and silent demeanor part of this passion must have been passed unconsciously to me. He worked silently not talking about what he was doing. His lessons were not communicated verbally. There were few explanations. What was communicated was an attitude of concentrated effort and respect for the tools that enabled you to do your project.

My fathers tools were hung on a board above his bench. Each tool had its image painted on the board and a shelf or hooks that held the tool. A tool was taken from its place when it was needed. Its painted image remained on the board as a reminder. This was its home to which it would be returned when its job was completed. I realize now that these tools had a certain extra ordinary presence. I was not allowed to use these tools. God himself would have been in peril if one of those tools were to be missing from its place.

I grew up in an era when money was real. A new tool was a precious acquisition to be chosen with care. I can remember the Christmas when my father got his first electric drill. How pleased he was with that Black and Decker metal-bodied 3/8ths inch hand held drill. You would have thought it was made of gold. The drills electrical cord was kept coiled and tied with a string when not in use. The chuck key was taped carefully to the cord so it would be handy when needed. A place was made for it and its outline was painted on the board. Of course, I was not allowed to use it. To this day I choose each of my tools with care. I will agonize over tool catalogues, read reviews and seek advice before committing to an acquisition that will be with me for a lifetime.

He died at the age of forty-three. I was sixteen years old. I still have a few of his tools. They have been with me now for fifty years. I have little need for them in my work. They are reminders of a technology that was made obsolete many years ago by the advent of power tools. A hand drill, a brace and bits, various handsaws, a couple of hammers, some hand planes. They rest in drawers and on shelves in my shop. If I had the space I would display them like the antiques they are. Once in a while I’ll take them out, clean them and wipe on a fresh protective coat of oil.

There is a respectful satisfaction that goes with picking up a well maintained tool from its appointed place. Each tool has its history. How it was developed. Where it was made. When it was acquired. The objects it has contributed to making. Some tools are irreplaceable. Old and good companies go out of business for one reason or another. The tools they made were beyond compare and perhaps never to be equaled again. I watch a treasured chisel shorten with each sharpening. The cutting edge grows closer to the temper line on the steel. Will it last my lifetime? I am growing closer to the end of my craftsman’s life also.

For more information about John Stillwell and his Ancient Territories Native American style flutes visit http://atflutes.com/

Craftsmanship

2008-07-13T10:16:00.000-07:00

For me, Craftsmanship involves the constant seeking after perfection. Craftsmanship flows from a personal dedication to finding the best in myself. After I have centered myself then I expand that space to encompass the shop and the flute in my hands. Acts of craftsmanship flow from this place of inner calm and concentration. Then, the work of my hands is in tune with the Greater Good.

When a craftsman is dedicated to making musical instruments his ear is his muse. For the instrument maker there is an ideal sound calling from just over the horizon. It calls from a place just beyond the best flute I have ever made. Striving for this ideal makes me focus on even the most minute detail that may have an effect on the sound. I feel I have an obligation to bring that Spirit to every flute I make. Because the flute player deserves no less. A flute made in this way is a success even if the sound of different flutes varies in tone. Because, even though I may prefer one flute over another different people react differently. Thus, every flute finds the right player. An instrument made in this way can bring Spirit into the life of the flautist.

There are individuals who learn how to do a trick - make something - that's cool. But, they are not necessarily craftsmen. Because, their flutes are not the creation of a craftsmans hands. Their flutes may actually sound pretty good. But, when you touch it, when you look at it, when you play it something is missing. You have the work of an engineer in your hands. Engineering/manufacturing (even when well done) and craftsmanship are not the same thing.

In my view a craftsman has a right to use any tool that is available to him. Our tools are a gift of hundreds sometimes thousands of years of experimentation by generations of craftsmen. In our own time electrical tools have made many procedures easier and consistantly accurate. From the first cast iron planer to the Dewalt that I have is a matter of sixty years. Countless improvments have forged a tool that allows me to thickness plane a piece of wood to a degree of perfection not possible with hand tools. It is my personal view that to not use this technology to produce the best possible instrument would a dereliction.

There are craftsmen who make flutes using the old tools - spokeshaves, wood gouges, files. These hand tools require a very unique mental and physical space to work in. A space where every second and every movement of the hand is an art form. That type of craftsmanship is certainly to be respected.

The Acacia Tree

2008-07-12T17:28:00.000-07:00

The bees are buzzing in an acacia tree. The acacia, which is also called cat's claw, wait-a-minute, tear blanket. It is one of the least endearing plants in the desert. It's hook shaped spines will rip a scratch down your leg just like a cats claw. But, the acacia has one of the sweetist smelling of blossoms. It's fragrance drifts on the Desert air. And, The acacia waits until the other plants have finished blooming. Then it comes to life and releases its come-hither purfume. By acting in this way it has the bees all to itself. Spring has passed. Now, only one fragrance drifts on the breeze of early Summer. It has no competition. Calling in all the honey bees. The acacia doesn't compete with the other sexy flowers. It has learned that solitude is the best. Separating yourself from the herd. Not vieing for attention. Instead, finding a space that's uniquely your own. It takes much time and experimentation. Thousands and thousands of years of patient experimentation. To slowly, cautiously, intelligently, devinely allow Time to be the teacher. Infinite patience. The acacia waits even after it's branches are warmed by the radiant rays of Spring. It waits while the other plants awaken from Winters sleep and come to life. The acacia waits. A Desert plant - a conservative plant. But, not now. Now, it is giving out everything it can afford. Calling the bees from far and wide and pollinating itself. It is preparing to drop seeds - thousands of seeds. Out of those thousands perhaps one seed will germinate in a place where it can take deep root and thrive.

Ahh, the bees, the busy little bees. They were up before dawn. Waiting for this wise Desert plant to begin to call. They were up before the Sun had broken the horizon. Standing at the entrance to their hive. Waiting for the fragrant summons. In another hour the feast will be over. The breakfast complete. The Acacia pollinated. Even now, the Acacia is beginning the process of transforming those two different germ cells from two different plants. One from itself and one from a donor carried by a bee. Now, it is combining the accumulated wisdom of millions and millions of years. It will pass on into the world a replica of itself - improved. Another genetic experiment launched.

And, they say this world is all a shadow. This marvelous shadow certainly looks real to me. Yet, I know that it is enough to see only the shadow. I must live in awareness of the form behind the shadow. The Devine form that is casting the shadow. The shadow that I see as this material reality.

Are we ready? Are we ever completely ready? It appears not. Like the Acacia we take what we experience of from the environment around us. Then we start sorting out and recombine our experiences, trying to make something better, fuller, more loving, more inclusive, more respectful, more conscious. An improved way of being in the world. Something in tune with Universal Intelligence. We have the power to be able to read from deeper within. We can see what is ideal form, ideal behavior and ideal feeling. Then we turn this understanding into something higher still through the power of Love.

A Sumer Rain

2008-07-11T16:29:00.001-07:00

Last night at about 11 PM there was a thunder and lightning storm of great beauty. Almost continuous rumblings of thunder and lightning leaping from cloud to cloud. Enough rain began to fall to call me from my bed to close the car windows and cover the horses hay. Primo and Sheeba were running around their corral in near panic. Slowly the storm moved off to the Southwest. The air was left cool and moist. The Desert was refreshed.

This morning I woke at 5 PM and knew that I had to go for a walk in the Desert. I wanted to take advantage of the cool air and damp ground to begin to break in a new pair of moccasins. And, to commune with the revitilized spirit of nature. Out into the Desert while the Sun was just breaking over the horizon. The ground was scrubbed free of any tracks. The leaves of the bushes washed clean of dust. The air so deliciously cool that I had to put on a pair of jeans and a long sleved shirt. My backpack and Native American style flute over my shoulders and the ground passing beneth my feet. Over the ridge and into the hills beyond.

The Flute Circle

2008-06-28T16:40:00.000-07:00

The Flute Circle is a modern phenomena built around playing and sharing information about the Native American style flute. The Flute Circle is founded on the traditional tribal Circles. The Native Americans experienced life as a series of Circles. For the Native American, before the arrival and corrupting influences of the European, each individual life was experienced within the context of an extended family circle, a clan circle, some specialized sacred society circles and the tribal circle. As individual tribal members met face to face around the council fire each person had an equal place. This way of interacting is protrayed in the movie Dances With Wolves. The foundation of the Circle is in mutual respect and tolerance for differences of opinion. The strength of a circle is based on the fact that the deliberations of the combined membership of a circle leads to consensus. Consensus is reached through careful examination of individual points of view. Consensus keeps the circle strong, pure and free of malicious internal friction. In order for this type of decision making to be effective individual members must be flexible, open and considerate of others.

The members of a Flute Circle can be likened to the knights of Arthur's round table. Separate individuals who banded together in the in the service of a higher good. Arthur's band of brothers were dedicated to a higher calling - selfless service to mankind, and the quest for personal development. So, it can be within the Flute Circle. Each of us has discovered something new and rewarding in the Native American style flute. We join or form a circle to share our passion with others of like mind and experience. The Native American style flute has given each of us something unique, personal and uplifting. It is a path to experiencing the presence of something greater than our individual selves - the universality of music. The Flute Circle can allow us to experience something greater than just satifying our individual needs.

The Flute Circle cannot recreate the tribal circles of the past. That way of life is fast disappearing from the planet. The tribal circle is based on traditions and experiences that were not part of our conditioning. We have been raised in a different social environment. So, ours is a conscious attempt to take what we can from traditional ways and apply it to creating something contemporary. A new Circle that satisfies our needs for belonging, sharing and learning. We are forging a new paradigm. And, if we are successful it will provide a new template of behavior that will incorporate the principles of creativity, love, respect, fairness, equality, flexibility - you add your own word/sentiment.

The new Flute Circle does not depend on hereditary or appointed positions for it's directing force. In the new Circle there are no positions of leadership like those seen in the Western model. No one is at the head of the table in a circle. An individual may acquire status in the circle by estabishing his credibility and fitness through service. But, the important thing is that each individual members voice is heard and his thoughts and opinions are respected. This can be the way of the Flute Circle. If we follow this Way each individual has a strong sense of belonging and value within the Circle. Decisions are not made from the top down but through consensus.

Our Flute Circles are based on experiencing the music of the Native American style flute. But, the Circle is not exclusively about the flute or the music. The Flute Circle provides an opportunity where we can all be teachers and students. We can learn from each other on many levels. Here we have an opportunity to share the song gifts we have been given. We support each others development as musicians and as human beings. The search for the holy grail in the Arthurian quest involved self sacrifice, personal evolution and character refinement. Paradoxically, it is a selfless quest. In the flute Circle, a new template is evolving for interpersonal relations. Certain individuals may accept formal responsibilites for helping to facilitate and strenghten the Circle. These positions should not bestow status on their holders or make them leaders as with the Western European command and control paradigm. Holding such a position does not mean that the individual has more power than other members. Or, power over others. We must recognize that the wisdom inherent in the Circle is greater than that of any one single member.

This is the strength and beauty of a Circle as compared to the conventional Western hiearchy. With a hiearchical organization a leader, or group of directors, gives directions to those below who are expected to carry out commands. The person holding the leader position is assumed to be more gifted and intellegent than other members. In this type of organization directives are implemented with little imput from the group. The Western paradigm is not inclusive - it does not build bonds of mutual respect and affection. Reciprecal bonds of mutual respect and affection must be the glue that holds the Circle together.

From what I have experienced the Northern California Flute Circle provides an example - a template, if you will. By observing the behavior of this group I think I can discern the direction in which the Flute Circle phenomena is evolving.

Let the Flute Teach You

2008-06-01T11:50:00.000-07:00

Have you heard the saying 'let the flute teach you'? These few words are as pregnant with meaning as any sentence you will ever hear. This simple instrument has many, many lessons to teach. And, not just about music alone. The flute teaches about the flow of Life, self awareness, being non critical. It can show how it's not just about you. It let's you see that something else is responsible for helping you make the music. Are we are the vehicle through which the music expresses itself? Is the music there before us and after us. Has it always has been there - for everyone.

In these so called 'modern times' musical instruments became so complicated that they could only be played with satisfaction and enjoyment by people who could dedicate their lives to them. Now, just when the era of Folk Music seemed to be drawing to a close and professional musicans had threatened to take over music making - along came the Native American style flute. A Folk instrument accessible to just about anyone. An instrument on which you can play your own tunes and perhaps listen to the tunes of others as they play. Have you ever thought while playing that we are all individual facets of some incredible crystal flower that is the Universe? As important in our individuality and personal expression as a planet or sun? Can it be that our music is an exression of the uniqueness that each of us is here to express? That each one of us has something to contribute to the Song of Life.

It takes a while for the fingers to develope the connection between the heart and the sound. They find out how to do this on their own. Just, let them play over the holes. They will make a natural connection between the tone hole, the sound and the tune. Don't expect, demand or be critical. Play and enjoy. Let it go where it will. The facility of expression will develop on its own. And, it never ends - the learning and growing and becoming more intuned to the music coming through. Remember, it's all good. And, nobody is judging anyone else. And if they are - who cares - that's their problem.

There are people publishing albums but their music is no better or more important than your own. In fact your music is more important than theirs - and more meaningful. What a great word - meaningfull. It is your unique expression of a time and place that is you and you alone.

The Farm

2008-05-31T11:50:00.000-07:00

I must admit I'm getting fairly excited by the way the new group of Native American style flutes are shaping up. They're at a stage where the final flute can be imagined. That's a danger sign because I'm tempeted to rush to the finish line. No major mistakes so far. A few glue lines I'm not happy with but other than that quite clean. This is perhaps the most error free group of flutes I've done to date. I changed the angle of the splitting edge a few degrees to make it more acute. My friend and fellow flute maker John Kulias has been using a flat splitting edge perhaps a 1/16 " thick and says that it helps prevent over blow. His ceramic flutes sound great. He showed me a flute by Colin Peterson (a flute maker that I had not heard of) who uses this type of edge. It played nicely. I'm not ready to go that far quite yet.

There always seems to be room for improvement. That's what keeps the juices flowing. Now, just when the urge to switch to a mental attitude of 'wrapping it up' is strongest - I must slow down. Monday, hopefully, I will start tuning. This is where I must avoid routine and stay focused on the smallest details. It looks like I'm going to make my deadline if the polyurethane finish goes well. Finishing has a strong element of chance. Runs, sags, temperature, humidity, dust all come into play. If something goes wrong, then I will have to take a step backward.

I grew up in a family that had it's roots in the land. My grandfather on my mother's side was a farmer. And, my maternal uncle too. They came from generations of farmers streaching way back. All the way back to before the Revolution. Many of the formative experiences in my life came from being on the farm. One of my earliest memories is of the men threshing wheat that had been heaped into a great pile in a field. The threashing was done by feeding the wheat into a big machine with pitch forks. As the mound of wheat got smaller rats, that had taken up abode under the mound of wheat, would run out and the men would try to spear them with their pitch forks. A rat would break out of the wheat into the field and a yell would go up, a pitch fork was thrown or stabbed at the rat. Men in the prime of life, working under the Sun, full of the energy of early adulthood. And, me probably no more than 4 or 5 years old watching and learning. Getting a taste of a days work well done. Learning the ways of strong men and women - on the land - doing the things that men and women like them have done for thousands of years. Strong, simple people - with the meaning of the land in their hearts and fresh air in their lungs and things to do. Grow plants, raise livestock, bring up children to take their places in the Circle of Life. They knew how to feed themselves and others. Everything they had coming from the land and the labor of their hands on the land. Resting in the Winter. Growing in the Spring and Summer. Harvesting in the Fall. Year after year, generation after generation. The Salt of the Earth.

Cleve was a man who loved/lived on my Grandfathers farm. They calle dCleve a hermit. He didn't work a steady job - except for my Grandfather once and a while to pay for being allowed to live in a cabin in the woods. As a matter of fact, there came a point where Cleve thought that Oliver - that was my Grandfathers name - was demanding too much work for the rent so he moved over to my uncles place and lived in a woods there for the rest of his life. My Uncle Charles was evidently not as demanding of Cleve's time. Cleve was a person who treated children just like he did adults. As equals. And, I loved to go to his place in the woods and listen to his stories of the old days, and the things he had seen and done in his life. Cleve was born into the days of horse and buggy. He had learned the trade of a blacksmith in his youth. But, when horses went out Cleve must have decided to quit working at a regular job. He did a variety of things to support himself. Shot varmints for the bounty and trained hunting dogs for the wealthy landowners. He helped if there was a corn crib to be built or a well dug.

Cleve's cabin was always full of wild cats. The Tom cats who had decided they could make it on their own in the Wide World. Cleve knew ever cat and from which farm lineage it had come. The cats came and went - they would stay a while, fattened up, have their wounds doctored and moved on. When I opened the door of Cleve's cabin after a polite knock, they would dive for their escape holes and disappear. Nobody but Cleve could touch them. Often there would be another barely employed individual there before me. But, I was always introduced and invited to stay and listen to conversation that I had briefly interupted. I felt more at home there in that little cabin under the trees than I did in my own house.

The River

2008-05-25T13:08:00.000-07:00

Back from a morning walk in the Desert. Sudden cool weather let me go out during the day for perhaps the last time until Fall. The small Desert spring has been re vitalized after a couple of cool days. It's water level has risen. However, it will soon diappear underground till Fall.
It is good to get out to where things are clear, clean and simple. Last nite I ordered a new pair of moccasins as the ones I'm wearing have a hole in one toe. There is another hole about to break through on the other toe. I don't look forward to breaking in a new pair. In the old ones I know what the traction is and they're good and flexible. All good things must come to an end some wise man said. Is he right? I might have stayed out longer but I wanted to spend some quality time with the kids (ages 14 and 12).

I'm still struggling with the goal oriented/process oriented balance in my work. I have been for years. It's such a Protestant thing. I feel the deadline looming. I know that the Indians lived in present time - without future deadlines. They were task oriented. In a good way. These new Native American style flutes are shaping up nicely. I like the simplicity of the three woods. The Eb that I am making for myself doesn't sound the way I wanted it too. The copper condensing tube running through the slow air chamber seems to change the acoustics. Perhaps it reduces the effect of the SAC being a secondary resonace chamber.

In the Desert the flute seems more at home than in the house. Or, is it because I can put my whole body into it instead of being constrained by being in a chair. I've ordered a Zoom H2 digital recorder so that I can do some recording outside in the canyons and post it on the site. I have certain reservations about this. It will add an element of civilization and complexity to what is otherwise a very primal experience. But, when I took it to a Power place the indication was that it was appropriate to do this.

The flute bag that I use is made out of an old pair of blue jeans. I lined it with some acrylic fleece and put an old Peruvian sash on it. This way, I can wear it over my shoulder while I'm walking and climbing. I carry only one flute. I hardly know it's there. Until I need it to bring things together into a single point of consciousness.

Things are so simple, clean and understandable when I'm surrounded by Nature. I know that I have to integrate this pristine head/nature space into my family/work space.

I want to speak a little about my life experience. The formative experiences. But, I don't know where exactly to start. So, I guess it will have to be at the beginning. I was born on the banks of a river. A salt water river that rose and fell with the tides. The river was fed by streams running off the land. The water was a mix of salt and fresh. The type of water that supports a myriad of life forms. So the river - called the Navasink - was teaming with life. It was itself alive. I think that part of that river of life was given to me. It has given me an awareness and respect/reverance for life in all it's forms. I live and have my being in the river of Life. No matter how crazy things were at home I had the river to go to. And, the river was always True and Good. It would heal and nourish my soul. Everything was OK with the river - always. All it's changes were pure and meaningful. It made the crazy and dysfunctional go away.

I grew up wading, swimming, boating, fishing, crabing, sitting by and tasting and smelling that river. In the backyard of my house was a midden of oyster and clam shells. Probably left by the aboriginal inhabitants. There were no oysters left in the river. They need clear water and the river by my day was too polluted for them. There were lots of clams though. And, clamers went out in the shallows and gathered them with long handled rakes. It looked like hard work. Those men kept to themselves. We kids didn't know them.

Now, I wander in the dry, dry desert far from salt water. I've come to love it. But, there was a long period of adjustment before I felt at home here. Now, I am dependent on the blue sky and sunshine. The long clear vistas, the mountains and rocks. They are home to me now. Me, who grew up standing knee deep in water.

Time

2008-05-18T10:22:00.000-07:00

I looked at the calendar yesterday and realized that I have four weeks until the Zion Native American Flute festival. And, I am working on a new group of Native American style flutes. They are a long way from being finished and the tendency is to speed up to meet this self imposed deadline. If I let that mentality take over then I'm rushing my work and the flutes will suffer. So, I'll just concentrate on a small number of flutes and try and control the time pressure that way. As well as maintaining a vigilance over my inner space to control my 'hurry up' program. I know that when I allow myself to get rushed then the quality suffers - I make more errors and excessive overtones may be the result.
Something that Geoffrey Ellis said has serverd as a guide for me. He said that the flute maker follows his ear. My ear will know if I am not on game. But by then the sound is emerging and some mistakes are not completely correctable by going back and making adjustments. So every step is equally importand - even those (especially those) that are made while the flute is still a rough block. Then, there's the element of chance. Thats what makes a hand made flute different than one made by machine. The hand crafting process allows for more variation than machine milling does. The very small differences in configuration of each element of the total flute each allow for the introduction of subtle differences in final tone. Some of these are experienced as 'over tones'. Overtones are deviations from a pure sign wave. Each deviation adds character but taken in total may muddy the tone of the flute too much. What I am talking about is not the same thing as being breathy or airy. These are due to -in my experience- design elements that are integral to the crafting of the flute.
This morning I went out into the desert at 330 AM. Almost full moon. Moon low on the horizon casting shadows over an already obscure landscape. Power walking over broken ground. Actually unbroken, pristine Mojave desert ground - but no trails. I wear my Kaibab foot gear because they are the only thing that will let me feel the uneven ground beneath my feet. And, maintain my balance as I walk and climb through the rocks. Just before dawn I could feel the little streams of cooling heavy air moving downhill along the ground. They were falling out of the canyon only inches deep. This is the first full moon where it was warm enough to get naked. But cold enough so that I had to keep moving to stay warm. That was OK because walking is my preferred relation to the desert. The first blush of sunlight came into a pure cloudless sky. Not the slightest of breezes only the thermal flow. Playing the flute on the site of what was once an Indian campground. Completely quiet - not even birds up yet. Not far from the spring that supports a nice desert oasis. The perfume from the blossoming native plumb trees was so strong It almost knocked me to my knees. In fact I was on my knees at one point near a beautiful old tree just sucking in its fragrance. The flute was singing my soul into sounds that were heard only by those powers that fill the voids of space. And I danced my dance of oneness with all life once more as the moon disappeared behing the hills. How many more full moons have I left to enjoy on this lovely, fragil little planet.

New Flutes

2008-05-04T16:53:00.000-07:00

I have started a new group of Native American slyle flutes. And, I am faced with the challenge of taking my flute making skills another step up the evolutionary ladder. It's that way for me - what keeps it fresh and challenging - to be always pushing the edge of the envelope of knowledge and skill a little farther. And, it's not only about knowing how to apply my accumulated knowledge to make a better flute. It's also about bringing the best in myself to a focal point of concentration and then maintaining that level of attention in each detail of the work. That's the real challenge - not to let it become a job. To keep the work fresh, clean and alive. Because, I know that it is manifested in the appearance and sound of the finished instrument. I am now in the process of cutting planks of wood of differnet species into small pieces. These pieces of different types and colors of wood are being arranged (composed) in ways that I find visually stimulating. I am always wondering what you - my friend and fellow flute player - may find interesting and attractive in a new combination of colors and patterns. For the first time in a couple of years I am going back to more basic compositions. I will be using just three wood species in some of the flutes I am making. Maybe, just two. The last flute I made for myself had just two types of wood - African blackwood and cocobolo. I liked the simplicity. I think I have pushed the envelope of visual complexity about as far as I want to go. Now I want to go back and further develope less complicated compositions. Tomorrow I will finish arranging the pieces and will begin to glue them together into the two halves of the flute. John S

Starting Out

2008-05-04T16:25:00.000-07:00

I feel like Ishmael seeing the Pequod for the first time - expectation mixed with trepidation. In my ramblings across this magnificient Mojave Desert and in my work making Native American style flutes I encounter emotions and thoughts that might be of interest to others. So, I am starting out on this new road - 65 years old, sound of body and mind, looking for nothing, expecting nothing. Ready to give and receive equally. Knowing that there are people of like mind wandering the planet and universe with me. Knowing that they too are willing to give and receive information. And, share their perceptions of what it means to be a human being on this Wonderous Journey through time and space. Knowing that by sharing with each other we are stronger, more aware and evolving and transforming more efficiently. Today, Sunday is a day for rest, reflection, reaffirmation of faith in the Goodness and Wholesomeness of my experience of Life. And, now for starting this new venture - blogging my way out into cyberspace. Cyberspace an opportunity to expand my knowlege and understanding of what it is to experience life in a human body. Thank you all - wherever you may be - for being part of my evolution. If you want to learn more about me and my work visit my website www.atflutes.com . Hello and thanks, John S