An Evening with My Flute


I sat in the park directly in front of the sun under a canopy on a picnic table.  The sun was full, large, and approaching orange at the horizon of my view-point. There were cars driving to and from on the streets below, kids playing soccer on the grass, teens playing basketball on the courts, and patrons walking their dogs.  It felt like the noisy busy energy one would expect being in the midst of all the surrounding activity. I pick up the Native American flute and put it to my mouth. Right before I blow my first note I look out and take a deep breath.  I play.  From low to high, high to low, I play the notes.  I played what my fingered wanted.  I listened to the sounds coming out of my flute; simultaneously I can hear the space around me.  The activity in the park was still happening, but it became silent.  I continued to play and I got a vision from what I was feeling.  The vibrations my flute penetrated the space around me puncturing holes on the space fabric.  Hearing the sounds around me was like hearing the world through a transparent shield.  Though somehow they were clear and crisp.  The chirping of the birds, the dancing whistles of the leaves on the trees, it was moving in stillness.

I played more music, spontaneously letting my fingers use more variety.  I looked down, and upon my right leg was a fly.  Initially I blew on it so it would fly away.  It did not fly away.  So, I moved my leg slightly to help it move along.  Still it did not budge.  I shrugged by shoulders in acceptance and continued to play.  With part of my attention still on the fly I began to wonder what it was doing.  It rubbed its legs together and fluttered its wings, but it did not move from that spot.  Now, being really interested in this fly, I put my face very close to it.  I looked and it then blew on it to see what it was going to do.  Still it did not move.  At this point I assumed it wanted to hear more flute music, so I continued to play.  Not too soon later it flew off to some other adventure.

The sun fell lower in the sky and grew a darker illuminating everything with a tint of sunkiss orange.  It drew my attention.  It was in my line of sight sitting in the middle two of four palm trees that were parallel to each other with gaps in-between.  While sitting just below the leaves of the tree, the moving wind moved the tops of the trees from left to right, back and forth, giving the sun a hypnotizing pulsating effect.  It was penetrating my attention and warming my skin its blanket of rays.  It felt like kindness and love; it was gentle and soothing.  Its blanket spread out into the stillness of the entire park- still, quiet, warm, and comforting.

I continued to play again letting my fingers do as they will and a profound glimpse of a moment from the book Siddhartha appears to me.  In that less that a split second I could see it was that moment when Siddhartha sat on the river in a boat with his friend Vasudeva and listened to the river.  He heard many voices at the same time overlapping each other until they all become the one single sound of Om.  That was the moment when Siddhartha realized everything and everybody is All One, all one consciousness, and he reached his ultimate attainment.  That section of the book which would have taken me more than minutes to read flashed before me in an instant.  But I had gone into a moment that was beyond the story as if slightly experiencing the story for myself.

I eventually became so calm and relaxed on the inside and outside that I ceased playing the flute.  The sun was sending its greetings as it was setting for the day.  I absorbed myself in the sun’s aura and warmth as it was making its final descent.  I bowed to it in gratitude and reverence; after all, it had listened to my music.  I say good-night and leave the person that initially came into the park- a different person left the park.


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