She shall have music wherever she goes

There are people who live very calm lives of utter contentment with almost no upheavals, or out of the ordinary concerns. They grow up, get married, buy a house and eventually die peacefully, probably in their sleep and go to whatever place they expected to go after that.

I am not one of them. I had my first existential crisis at three and went on from there.

While my life has not been Indiana Jones worthy, it has had a few adventures. Not like my friend, Mack, who wind surfs with dogs, rides camels along the seashore, drops out of airplanes and lives to tell about and not like Bestest who hobknobs all over the world eating exquisite cuisines and visiting world famous landmarks while writing books and attending Broadway plays and not like Kathleen who once unearthed Anasazi pots in old Mesa Verde.

I have experienced a bit of freedom that allowed me to stand inches below thousands of migrating geese flying so low I really could feel the wind beneath their wings.  I have walked the invisible paths of ancient Americans and heard the sound of flutes echoing through their ruins. I have stood beneath the terrifying gaze of a mountain lion in the mountains of California and seen bears among the redwoods, hearing nothing but the leaves rustling overhead. I have participated in sweat lodges and once attended a Wiccan wedding. I've journeyed to the sound of Native American drums and done breath work that gave me incredible visions.

I have heard the mellifluous sound of a Native American flute reverberating in a great cathedral and John Denver in a small auditorium. My life has been fueled by music of every sort for every reason from sea to shining sea, but I've never left this country since I was a child of three and it seems that this is to be my path.

Whether it is nature blowing through mountain crevices, or musicians performing, or my children playing their hearts out on guitars and keyboards I have had music wherever I've gone.