One of a Kind Handmade Flutes & Love Interests

"When you are loved, you can do anything in creation. When you are loved, there’s no need at all to understand what’s happening, because everything happens within you." Paulo Coelho

The native flute, particularly the double chambered flute, has always been an instrument of love. Whatever you call it, it has always been meant for the purpose of wooing another to you.

It is said that some flutes were so powerful they had their own place where they were kept away from women and children. Some were buried with their owners and some were hidden from lovers (supposedly to take away their strength and connection to one another.)

I have always liked the romantic side of things (what can I say...) and when the first flutes started showing up at my heart's doorstep I was more than eager to experiment with the prowess of these mysterious instruments. I started playing around with these flutes when I was pretty young; young enough to have girlfriends and to explore the kind... I found out quickly how powerful intention can be as the weirdo saying goes, "where intentions go; energy flows..." or something like that.

There are stories about the old and young man eyeing the same maiden and playing their hearts out early into the morning and late into the evening. No matter how beautiful they played the maiden chooses neither of them but follows coyote into his lair. She was tricked by Elk dreamer's voice and when she woke up she heard the most awful singing, it was old man coyote singing his heart out as he took a bath down by the river.

She ran away from home crying but it was too late. She was pregnant with his twins; one who had an amazing soft voice who only sang songs in the dark because he was so ugly and the other one who was handsome as a jewel although he was the noisy one who yelped and screamed like his father...

And then there was a kokopelli-mana from the mesas to the west. His story goes like this: he was a cripple with a hunchback and everyone teased him and treated him cruelly. He had an amazing gift of humor, music and he played the butterfly flutes lovingly and hauntingly.

He told the great warriors that a great war-faring tribe was in their home land. He told them he had stared into the water and seen a vision of many invaders coming to steal their women!
.
The big, muscular warriors became angry and started to prepare for battle, getting ready to set out on a long journey into the grassy plains world. "Nobody touches our women!"

"You stay home! You're too weak and scrawny...!" they shouted at Kokopelli-mana.

For many days and months they were gone and it was his plan to get rid of them, those who mocked him; he started making up stories of the massacre that took place and all the handsome warriors were devastated and would never see their home land or their beautiful maidens ever again. The maidens, in their sadness, fell head over heels in love with Kokopelli-manas sad songs, wondrous stories and singing.

Months went by, almost a year, when the men finally returned to their homes on the high mesas. Kokopelli-mana met them with many women following behind him. Now you know the rest of the story...

In homage to the flute players and flute makers of the old...

Enjoy the secret. (Heehee)

"When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it..." The Alchemist.


Love,
Mirabal

Grandmother Ocarina: Waiting for the Hand

Ocarina Into the light...
Good songs begin with
the delicate thoughts,
a breeze touching you from nowhere,
a whispered melody arrives, in your ear,
forming into things,
then like a hand in the dark
it pulses the whole body, and the thoughts and sounds begin. 
silence follows a great upheaval of the sand buried line of lost music uncovered.
you can feel the breath of Lazarus
deep inside even the place where you are most deathly afraid,
you lift up the hands and breath in and it plays through the darkness and guides out into the light.

The first Ocarina that I ever played was a gift from a man from Peru. It was in the shape of a carrot and the music I heard from it was like a dream and it awoke me to see the silence turn to beauty and the lines of melody turn to wonder and more wondrous thoughts.

I was about fifteen years old when I first tried playing it. The difficulty of the sound and physics of the instrument brought me to many nights of frustration, yet I kept on playing; experimenting with the sound, composing the same melody so much that I could hear it, even in my walking and running. I could see and feel what my fingers were playing even without the little-carrot instrument in my hand.

Eventually, out of haste and the dreams of women, I eventually broke the ties of my connection to the ocarina.

However, I am still enamored by the sound and the complexity of the instrument. I use one in every recording I have done for the last 20 years or so. A quaint and certain embellishment in every song of collaboration that evokes a sense of animistic, insect, worldly sound of the jungles and barren deserts.

Few can play this instrument because of its high pitch sounds and it can, at times, be overwhelming. Precise methods and technique in moments can enhance the score of notes and composition into an uplifting feverish impulse.

To say the least I love them and offering them in the way that I can has given me some good and interesting meetings with many people who are attracted to them.

And... many have asked how I make certain pieces of art.  Here is a start. Enjoy.

Ocarina into the night, into the night.
In the night she woke me to walk with her
she unfolded her wings wrapped them around me 
in warmth and wonder she evoked thoughts in me that no man or woman has ever done, 
I crave her to wake me one more time, 
I wait for her to touch me and ask me to walk along the cottonwood lined roads and the secret runner trails.
maybe one night while I slumber in deep sleep she will awaken me and hold me once more...


Mirabal

Morning Corn Ritual - Things Are Different Now...

Love to you all, here's a simple blog with complex notions, happy corn-dancing and enjoy life to its fullest!!

(TIWA)
here I stand in this place 
with the things of yesterday helping me 
with my life 
where can I go 
with my life.

things are different now, things are different now
things are different now, things are different now

here you are at this place and this time
you're crossing a river to the future
Ahn wah wah eeh (my Life)
now you can't look back anymore 
cause you know you've been there before


things are different now,things are different now
things are different now,things are different now

(TIWA)
here we all stand 
with the teachings of the past helping us


things are different now, things are different now
things are different now, things are different now

years have passed  and I've grown stronger finding out where I belong, dreams are clear it's all so different now.


things are different now, things are different now
nah mah seaal leemah

things are different now, things are different now

years have gone where do we go now, dreams are clear and it's all so different now

things are different now, things are different now
things are different now, things are different now

Blessings to you all with patience we all shall see the truth,

Mirabal

Grandmother Turtle & Finding the Sun

"...clasp the hands and know the thoughts of men in other lands..." John Masefield

I was wondering the other day about traveling; the growing anticipation of strolling into the open air to walk amongst the people with their foreign languages; to run past their fields and churches; to taste the ocean air in the highlands of their lofty fisheries; to smell the fresh cut hay and grass of rolling hills and azure plains; to feel the heat of the sun as it radiates on my skin late into the drumming of the night.

Most of the people of my Pueblo have never left the state of New Mexico. The furthest most have been is to go to Albuquerque or maybe to see the Gallup of the Navajo lands. A few have ventured as far East as the beginnings of the rolling plains of East Texas and the doors to the Oklahoma pan handle in Wagon Mound. Perhaps some have even gotten a swift wafting summer scent of the Sangre de Cristo's to the north...

But most are just content with the casual moments of a day to day life. Some you never see until years later and you think, "hmmm where were they, what were they doing, and how did they get so old so quickly and, mostly, why do they bicker, complain, and moan about the little things and do nothing about them?"
 
It brings to mind a sculpture that I made last winter which I called Grandmother Turtle. The story goes like this:

In a time of darkness there was the shifting of sand, planets, animals and men. All these were afraid of the unknown and so the shifting took place for the land as quiet and as slowly as possible. The planets and the stars also took the same lead in order not to offend the sun. However, the animals took a fast leap towards change and so did the men. They competed with each other in evolution, in sight, in memory and in death. The sun did not like the fighting and he spoke to the moon and said, "Can you take over for awhile? I think I will take a leave of absence..." The sun decided to stay in the west and cool off a bit in the ocean waves.

Navigational symbols were carved on her back

Deep, furrowed darkness prevailed all over the lands. Cold came the winds of bitter change upon the animals and the people. Their minds and bodies began to change and evil became apparent in the wet, soggy valleys and the cold mountains. So a big council was held in the the caves and the death of many was spoken about and the birth of so few was worried about. The animals and men barely recognized each other in the absence of the wondrous and beautiful sun and firelight so the big plan was to to go and find the light to find the fire. And so the quest began.

The elder animals spoke first, "Who will take the task on?" The fearless, cunning, blue fox replied,  
"I will sneak up to the sun and steal the light." He ran off into the darkness.

He came back looking not blue but red and yellow and his tail still smoking black from angering the sun in his slumber.

Next was the arrogant white raven, "I can do it, no problemo," he boasted and flew out into the velvety dark night. He soon came back looking as dark as the night from which he'd just came with a raspy eerie voice. He too had failed.

Man, the two-leggeds, failed. The water beings of the sea, the fish, failed. One by one all of the boastful creatures failed.

Except for one who kept silent through all the council. Grandmother turtle. She was wise; unique in her presence and spoke of a time when love and happiness ruled the lands and the sun was happy. It was before greed, before hierarchy. She sang the songs of birth, the melody of children, the spirit in the leaves and the awakening hymns of insects.

"Remember these stories and sing these songs and never stop until I return," she said.

Grandmother turtle swam towards the east humming the navigational songs of the stars.

 The knowledge of fire, the wood, the shell

Days and months passed, some say years, and she finally returned. She spoke of her long journey and how she swam. She spoke of being carried by both northern and southern currents. She saw the devastation of many from East to West but she never said how she brought the sun out again. The council of animals, people, insects and all the living were so happy she brought the light back to them all.

They all examined her scars on her back symbolizing knowledge and strife. The children untied the ancient wood for the making of fire, releasing the embers caught in a shell she carried on her shell-back and the elder council beings studied the knowledge and songs of fire.

Grandmother reminded us of the love; the happiness she returned, but never did she say how she did it, she smiled, sang and spoke about her many, many adventures.

Only when we walk just a bit farther and face our fears can we actually see the light and feel the embers of a beautiful world. Staying in a place where life itself is destroying your love and happiness is a deathly sentence. You must divorce yourself from the ties that bind and the weight that sinks you to the bottom. We all must be like Grandmother and take the current that will lead us to our heart's true self and smile because it makes people wonder what you've been up to.

Always a mirror to the soul

Taking the plunge is easier said than done,
Mirabal