On the road today, staying in a beautiful home. A wonderful place to rest and practice. Walking in a nearby park, I came across four Native American Burial Mounds. These simple, poignant, natural, mysterious and inevitable reminders of the one fear that always comes true - death. As I pondered them, I was grateful for the life, opportunities, family, friends & love that fill my life.
After lunch I practiced a bit, then recalled the Burial Mounds. Being open to the notes that might arise, I listened carefully as I played. Might the notes wrap the shroud with respect. A whisper arose and I followed gently. Another whisper - somewhat surprised I trusted and followed further. Could this be my humble tribute to these lives that passed? To all life that will pass? I made some notes as the whisper quieted and then I rested.
Love this... very tender. Thank you Patrick.
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