Craftsmanship or Good Enough is Not

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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