The Ending is the Beginning

There are songs that express our souls.  One of my favorite gospel songs that my grandma used to sing was “How Great Thou Art,” which resonates with my 7-year-old prayers Grandma used to teach me – ‘God is great, God is good and we thank him for our food.’  How many times have I seen folk dying like they live.  At 82, I have no “bucket list” only wonderful memories of past travels.  I am whole and complete, nowhere to go — I am here now.


Native cosmology is that time is art.  Many have forgotten our hands, except to punch keys on computers in front of screens.  My diet of computer time is balanced with journaling and drawing, creating,  cooking, cleaning, bringing order out of chaos, and being happy with “fairly honest Patrick.”  And when Spirit moves me, I create drums.  My life is a prayer.  Playing golf is a prayer to the extent I am working with my clubs rather than “trying.”  For years, I have prayed for ease and grace — the ease and grace of my fly-fishing days and watching the flow of Bear Creek.  I am often the “thirsty fish,” failing to hydrate my body, yet I am better than I used to be at drinking water to quench my thirst.

Water is the West direction, the Autumn of my life — teaches the lessons of my sign, double Scorpio, to humble myself, realizing that of myself, I am powerless.  This deflation of my “false pride” at depth.  And this requires my daily maintenance of attitude and spiritual condition.

Having a good sturdy hoop is a good idea when constructing a drum.  I learned the art of hoop making from an old cabinet maker from Port Angeles, Washington who used to bend yellow cedar hoops.  Many tribes would support Grandpa, who took up hoop building after years of cabinet making.  To be grateful for what I have, and to turn over the worry knowing that today, well lived makes tomorrow a dream of hope.  Another gospel song I heard sung at the small baptist church in Kenova, WV was “How Firm a Foundation.”

Those walking the good red road go in the lodge to purify — to burn away the beliefs that we pick up from the black road of “more is better.”  Gratitude is the only way I ever knew that I had enough.  Living in gratitude is living a life of happiness, joy and freedom.  I have enough and I am enough.  To stay “right size” in my business has been challenging — learning to say no to more money and yes to my piece of mind.

Many churches in Europe were built on “bedrock” and “Leylines.”  The art of place was left to witches, wichers and druids, who doused the land and aligned place (earth) with the stars.  When I bought our Heartspace 20 acres, I walked the land for years “feeling” where things were to go.  One of the promises of 12-step recovery from abuse is that I will intuitively know how to handle situations that used to “baffle” me.  This is confusion.  The head does not know place.

Perfectionism is not only a curse, it is the absence of humor and play.  Play is critical to my serenity, and Mandi and I play ping pong on our mini table as a way to sharpen our presence and mindfulness.  My goal is to see the ball all the way to where it touches my paddle and to offer the ball to her by placing it in front of her on each shot.  I learned that in breaking my addiction to “winning” and just making good conscious contact, that I had much more information than taking my eyes off the ball and looking at where I wanted to hit it.  Staying “on the ball’ is a daily routine — being grateful for each drum, rattle, flute that comes my way or that I create and to send it with my prayer that these drums and drumming will restore us to sanity.  Drums not bombs.

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