Winds of Remembrance

The drums and percussion beat feverishly - djembes and bongos, frame drums of different sizes, rattles, shakers - and then settle down to a quieter pulse when someone stands and sings with their flute.  Then applause and a few whoops burst out, and the drumming becomes wild and hypnotic again.  Eventually people get up and move around in a circle to the beat, pounding out the rhythm and allowing the synchronicity to express itself in their bodies.  It's nearly primal; we could be under the stars around a blazing fire surrounded by the red rocks of southern Utah or in some clearing in the Amazonian jungle instead of in a small Best Western ballroom in metropolitan Washington, D.C., on a cloudy day of an endless winter.

From a tag line of a previous meeting, it's music that "transports you to another place." 

Cedar flute, key of G, David O'Neal; bag by Shelly Stenzel, Feather Ridge Flutes

It was the closing to the 10th Anniversary Potomac Native American Flute Festival - three days of flute shopping with some of the very best flute makers in the country, three concerts featuring some of the best NAF artists in the country, and workshops given by those artists.  It was also a time to reunite with old friends, deepen relationships with acquaintances, and meet new friends-to-be.  And as with so many events and activities, that's the true essence of the festival; it's the people that make it such an incredible weekend each year and make it so hard to see it end so quickly.

Gilbert Levy, husband and co-performer of world flutist Suzanne Teng, summed it up best when six of us were sitting in this same small ballroom after almost everyone had left and he said, "Where's the after-party?  This can't be over!"

Will playing the penny whistle at Open Mic

In Mark 9 of the Bible, Jesus is transfigured so that his clothes become "dazzling white," and Moses and Elijah suddenly show up.  Peter is so awed (and a little freaked out) that he tells Jesus "it's good to be here" and they should just stay there, even suggesting that they build shelters.  Everyone wants to stay on the mountaintop.  Who wants to leave, when it's such an incredible experience, when the people are amazing - when it's so fun?!  Who wants to go back down to level ground, where you have to worry about dealing with people fighting and finding food for your next meal and battling the weather?

It's natural to feel sad when such a wonderful gathering comes to a close, knowing it's likely you won't see people for another year.  But maybe we aren't supposed to compartmentalize our lives into A) this wonderful NAF community where people love each other and seek peace and harmony and healing, and B) the real world.  Maybe we're not supposed to bifurcate our lives into 1) this great annual fluting weekend when everything seems wonderful, and 2) the rest of our lives.  Maybe it's all the same thing, hard as that may be to effect.

Transverse bamboo flute, Egyptian tuning, Craig Noss, FireFlutes; bag by Shelly Stenzel, Feather Ridge Flutes

I often restrain myself from referring to "spreading the gospel of the Native American Flute."  But it strikes me that the values of Christianity and the NAF community are quite similar: love, peace, healing, forgiveness, acceptance.  Finding common ground.  Loving your neighbor as yourself.  Agreeing to disagree (a phrase coined by John Wesley, founder of Methodism).  

Whether and to what extent people actually live out these values - in either community - is a completely different subject.  The point is: if fluting is more than just a shared interest in a musical instrument, if it really is about these values, then all the warm fuzzies we experience during a special weekend like this are not meant to be put aside, once we return to our workaday world.  It has to apply as much in real life as it does at a flute festival; otherwise, it's just malarkey (in honor of St. Patrick's Day).  We can't just love other fluties.  We can't only love people we have an affinity for; even the demons do that*.

If I drive home after the festival cursing out those who cut me off on the Beltway, it feels like it negates all the positive vibes from the weekend.  Then it goes back to being just a bunch of people who like flutes.  It can't be only about the music.

Gilbert Levy (playing my djembe!) and Dan jamming after the evening concert

So when I go back to work, back to living my everyday life, maybe I can carry some of this goodwill and love back to the people who were not on the mountaintop with me.  And maybe I can begin to understand that, even while it's about getting the job done, it's also about my relationships with the people with whom I spend the majority of my waking hours.  No one says that's an easy thing, but it's something to consider.

And anyway, my "real life" is what makes these weekends possible, not only financially but emotionally; the highs aren't high without the ordinary.  And every day of being on level ground brings me closer to next year's mountaintop.

* (If you can find the Scriptural reference for that, please comment or email me.  Thanks!)