Meditation On Mortality

Over the last few days, I have had circumstances happening around me that have led me to really think deeply about my own mortality. A few weeks weeks ago, I received a phone call that let me know that the principal chief of my tribe had died at age 55 from a heart attack. More recently, I found out that another close friend of mine had recognized early signs he was having a heart attack, and was able to arrive at a hospital in time to save his life, he’s 42 years old. My dad suffered a massive heart attack in 2009, and his life was saved because it happened in a hospital.—he’s still going strong though. My mom died at age 61 in an inspirational fight she lost to stage four cancer, high-blood pressure, diabetes, and congestive heart failure.

As each of these events have occurred, they have brought into focus some basic truths to which I personally don’t like to give a lot of thought. Every single one of us will meet the end of our days one day.  When life events calls me to freshly consider the bigger questions of our mortality and purpose, I do not place my focus in pop-culture platitudes, but rather to ancient and timeless truths of the scriptures. This life will end. Saul of Tarsus tells us that it is appointed for each of us to die, and then after that comes the judgment. James, the half-brother of Jesus of Nazareth, warns that our life is a vapor and that tomorrow is not promised. One of the Hebrew Psalmists encourages us to learn to number our days. And with all of these myriad warnings, and the daily reality that there are people who are dying from various causes, I feel like we can lose sight of this reality.

But the last few weeks, have been a megaphone for these truths. So what does a person do with the reality that this life is temporary? I find myself looking to the wisdom of scriptures, and considering the application of the wisdom of the ages. In my estimation, the scriptures are a guidepost for living life on purpose, in light of our earthly mortality, and in light of the fact that each of us are, as the philosopher Dallas Willard has said, “unceasing spiritual beings with an eternal destiny in God’s great universe.” The ancient theologian Saul of Tarsus has also written an exhortation for the ages to, “Make the most of the time because the days are evil, and understand what the will of the Lord is.”

When I consider these truths, that my life is short, and that I’m seeking to make the most of the time, I still find myself in need of guidance. We live in a world FULL of chocies, at least most of us in the West seem to have limitless choices. I’ve spent enough time in other areas of the world (and honestly even here) to know that our circumstances can sometimes limit our choices—but we ALWAYS have a choice of some type. So, again, I look to ancient texts for truths that have stood the test of time. An Ancient Hebrew Prophet laid it out this way, “What is required of you o man, but to do justice, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God.”

These are powerful words, but we need more than wise words to live by, we need to cautiously and humbly seek to apply these words and embody them in our lives. The reason I encourage caution and humility is because, if these words are meant to move us toward a life of purpose from the perspective our own mortality, then we need to be willing to course-correct if we may be mis-applying the wisdom. We need to be in a place to listen to the feedback of others. We need to be open to suggestion, but at the same time, we need to be resolute. If we aren’t resolved to a degree, then we will waffle and waver from our purpose, and we will likely live a less fulfilling life.

So as I consider all of the events swirling around me, death of a close friend, near death of another close friend, and the arrival to this earth of our first child, I consider this text in the following ways.

Do Justice—This is an active part of our life rhythm. In order to be able to do justice, I need to wisely steward the limited resources I have, in the limited time I have, for the good of others. This encourages me to pursue my own physical health, not so much so I can live longer (although there is a correlation between physical health and longevity), but more so I can do more in terms of justice. If I am healthy and strong, I can give more of my resources to service. I can volunteer. I can run and play with my child. I can help friends move, and it just leaves me in a place where I have more to give.

Love Mercy—There is so much wrapped up in this phrase. This phrase helps me to more fully be present to all that is going on around me. If I am loving mercy, I am willing to walk in forgiveness—I’m neither carrying bitterness toward others, nor toward myself. There are times in our life where all of us “do injustice” to ourselves and to others. There are times when we will have injustice done to us. It is in those times we have an ability to love mercy and extend mercy toward ourselves and others. Carrying bitterness, anxiety, and disappointment are not the way of mercy, and they will rob us of our life long before we breathe our last, if we let them. In this spirit, I strive to make space to choose to believe the best of myself and of others, and to extend mercy rather than enmity.

Walk humbly with your God—This is probably the least popular aspect of this ancient nugget of wisdom. Our pride screams defiantly at any form of humility. We want to do things in our way, according to our time schedule, and according to our own priorities—we do not like the thought of anyone or anything dictating how we should spend our time, talents, and treasures. And yet, when we walk in humility, we are able to have eyes to see our own shortcomings. When we walk humbly with God, we are choosing to listen to the ONE voice that desires the best for us, and has the clearest insight into how we can live the most fulfilled and purposeful life, the wisdom and guidance of God nudges us to the best life we can live. And by taking time regularly to listen and to respond, we can truly make the most of our limited window of time on this earth.

I would never claim to execute these three principles perfectly, but I believe they offer each of us guidance toward how we might each live our lives in a way that truly “makes the most of the time because the days are evil.” May we each strive to walk in a way that is mindful of our mortality, and that savors and makes the most of each magical moment of our lives.

Mourning, Grieving, Healing, and Reconciliation

A few days ago, I received a text message from a long time friend asking me to give him a call when I had a moment. I responded as quickly as I could—this friend wouldn’t make a request like that unless he had something really important to share. When I called, he told me that Joseph Crow Neale, a one-time very close friend of ours, and the principle chief of my tribe, had passed away from a heart problem earlier in the week.  He was under sixty years of age, and from what I gather, his health had been in decline, but no one thought his light would be extinguished so soon.

I was beside myself as I took in this news, and unsure how to respond. For years, I had prayed that somehow our friendship would be reconciled and restored, and that we would be able to pick up where we left off, but this news took away any hope of that future outcome on this side of eternity.

Over the last few days as I have had space to reflect and grieve, I’ve given a lot of thought to the important role he had in my life and in the lives of many other people. He wasn’t perfect, and as much as we ourselves are able to see our shortcomings, he would have been ready to admit them.

He was generous with his time, and would spend hours with young men and women in our tribal community, and he would patiently teach them as much of our tribal traditions as they were willing to learn. He always wanted to make sure the younger generation could feel proud of their Shawnee heritage, and that they could hold onto some memories of our ceremonial ways and traditions. I had a conversation recently with a member of our tribe reminiscing over how much he cared for her youngest daughter when she was brought to our tribal grounds as an infant. He said, “These young children are the next generations of our people.”

I remember when my best friend in the whole world, Willie, had his daughter and son on our tribal grounds for the first time. Crow went out of his way to always make sure these children were included. On one occasion, Crow took paints with Emalee, Willie’s daughter, and had her “help” him decorate a coconut shell rattle.  I believe making gestures like this to include young people like Emalee, likely positively shaped her own memories of what it was like to grow up in a tribal community.

Crow and his late father were always willing to share responsibilities and give our people opportunities to learn by doing. In allowing others to gather materials for ceremonies or take care of various aspects of preparation, he would allow people to make mistakes, and then use these mistakes as an opportunity to educate. He valued giving people an opportunity to at least attempt to figure things out on their own before intervening.  

Crow would work tirelessly for our tribal community. Every year he set a goal of making some type of improvement to the land, and he sought to involve whoever was willing to help make those improvements. He launched into the construction of our tribal council house (designed by his uncle, Flying Duck), and he also led work parties in the construction of an arbor, the transit and assembly of a supply shed granted from Fort Necessity, as well as the creation of an earthen oven.

Crow encouraged our people to explore and visit the sites of some of our ancestral villages. In fact, I remember one occasion where the owner of a piece of property that was once the site of one of our villages allowed us to take a few stones back to our ceremonial grounds as a gesture to symbolically reconnect us with those lands. We took road trips all over West Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, and Ohio to help ourselves and other Shawnees to connect with their past.

Crow and his father were two of the first people I ever saw pursue servant leadership actively. By tradition, chiefs usually would eat first during feasts, but for Crow and his late father, they chose to eat last—they believed that it was a more important principal to ensure that everyone in the tribe had eaten—and that elders would eat first. They taught by example that we take care of our elders, and that we seek the good of others before we seek our own welfare. This concept is in line with our common Christian heritage as well as much of Native tradition.

He and his father allowed me to spend a summer living with them and learning the old ways back when I was in college, and during the months after graduating and before I started my first “grown-up” job, they invited me back into their home where I continued to learn from their leadership and mentorship. Thankfully I was offered an opportunity to give back (and learn additional skills) by helping put a roof on their house and repair parts of the home that had fallen into disrepair. Toward the end of my time with them that fall, they handed me $200 for “helping out.” That same day, my mom called to tell me that my first student loan payment form came in the mail—I owed $200. They had providentially helped me address that financial need.

Crow and his dad helped me grow in my relationship with Christ from some of the earliest moments of my walking with Christ. I witnessed their examples of generosity with time and resources (along with similar examples from friends in Morgantown), and sought to emulate their rich faith, and learn as much as I could about Jesus and the Bible. Crow used to listen to the Bible on cassette everywhere he went, and, as a result, he was incredibly familiar with the scriptures. He often had a timely verse for various situations.

The last time I remember speaking to Chief Crow was in the fall of 2004. I had just heard a sermon about recognizing people who had been a positive influence in your life, and when possible letting them know the valuable role they had in helping you become a better person. I was driving home to visit my parents in Parkersburg, West Virginia, and I thought, “I’m going to call Crow and thank him for the positive influence he had been in my life.” And so I called out of the blue, and told him just that. I thanked him for the lessons he had shared with me, and for the important role he had played in helping me become the person I had become, and for taking the time to pour into myself and many others. He thanked me and let me know he appreciated the gesture and the words, and then we said goodbye for what ended up being the last time.

Looking back from this present vantage point, I would have never imagined that this conversation would be the closest he and I would come to reconciliation on this side of eternity. I can only imagine there are many others who have had similar relationships with people with whom they never get to experience the full reconciliation that they hope would happen on this side of eternity. Crow’s untimely demise is a very compelling and sobering reminder of the importance of keeping short accounts with others, and striving, so far as it depends on you, to be at peace with others.  Not everyone has an opportunity for those types of conversations, but when we do, we should take them. There is healing and reconciliation that can take place for all.

And now, as I think about Chief Crow’s legacy, it is my heartfelt prayer that our people will continue to move forward even more strongly, and that we will collectively embody all of these wonderful attributes of this leader who has gone to be with Jesus. To me, I feel like that is the greatest way we can honor those who no longer walk this earth, and it is a gesture of reconciliation and healing that can carry forward into future generations for the good of all people.

Reflection: Rend Collective Concert, Joy, And Music

Last Thursday, Jamie and I took an impromptu trip to Chestnut Ridge Church in Morgantown, West Virginia to see a band that our good friend Hallé had told us about a few years back, Rend Collective. Little did we realize when Hallé told us about this Irish folk band that their music was already a regular part of our weekly worship gatherings among our local faith community. 

As we arrived, I found myself thinking about how music has changed over the last hundred years, and even over the last ten years. Thanks to apps like Spotify, Pandora, and Apple Music we can stream a wide array of music on our computers and mobile devices wherever we go. I remember when I acquired my first Mac, I was so impressed that I could take all of my compact discs and place them on my computer. I remember as a small child being tremendously excited about listening to eight-tracks with my parents at home, and by the time I was in junior high, I was able to listen to cassettes with my Walkman as I walked around the neighborhood, or even around the house. Mine was one with the ability to record, play radio music, and cassettes, and I can remember having a ton of fun listening to tunes.

But this wasn't always the way music was available. It's kind of hard to fathom because nowadays our favorite artists' music is readily accessible. But there was once a time when music could only be experienced live--our only way to experience music was to go to a concert, or to make it ourselves. As I listened to the band, they invited us to join in singing, clapping, snapping fingers and dancing. They were inviting us to experience the joy of music. Music is quite the gift!

As much as I enjoy listening to music of various genres, I tend to believe that music is best rendered as something we experience. I believe it was John Cage who said that once we record it, it ceases to be music--it is not able to be experienced in the same way as when it is live. It is the energy of a past moment that may be powerful as a memory, but it is a far different experience than making or creating music in the moment. 

As we enjoyed the evening with the band's performance, and as the members of the band switched rapidly among instruments that even included garbage cans, they were encouraging us to enter into the joy of song, singing praises to the Creator of the universe, and not allowing our cynic or our inner critic to rob us of laughter and joy. At one point in one of their songs, the lights went out and they were wearing panda heads. Later that evening they talked about how the Bible references both fruit of the Spirit and gifts of the Spirit and that seriousness does not make an appearance in either list. Making music invites us into the realm of joy, and they felt that panda heads while performing were a good reminder to the people who joined them at the concert to not fill their lives with seriousness. 

Growing up, even though I don't remember either of my parents playing an instrument, they encouraged us to sing, to play music, and to be joyful. It was never a command from them, it was more of a simple way of life for all of us. At some point in time before I was born, my dad and one of my uncles used to drive a garbage truck. They would regularly find treasures along the side of the road that people were ridding themselves of. One of those treasures was an electric organ. I have many vivid memories of plugging that organ in, and listening to a fan begin to spin; the keys on the organ forced the air through to create notes of music. Dad had also acquired a couple of song books for this organ that were numerically coded, so I could follow the numbers to play songs. This was before the advent of synthesizers and keyboards in the 80s. I don't believe anyone in our family ever became a piano player, but I can remember playing Christmas carols and other songs as Dad made home-made pizzas or Mom was making some meal for us all to enjoy. 

Even on my tribal grounds, we never really listened to recorded music. We made music. Our tribal drum was like a heart beat. Our ancient songs connected us with past generations, and brought forth traditions to a new generation. Every gathering had a time for music and a time for folks to circle around a fire as drumming and singing would begin and carry on often late into the evenings. Even during times of sadness, singing, drumming, and dancing, listening and creating music that echoed through the hills had (and still has) a power to move us toward deep joy, peace, and hope. 

Lots of memories came to my mind thanks to the experience of a concert with Rend Collective for sure. Music is such a huge gift, and, while Jamie and I definitely enjoy listening to music as we go through our days, there's nothing quite like experiencing it live with others, or creating music of our own. Even as I write this, I feel a tug toward spending a little more time during my daily and weekly rhythm singing, dancing, and playing guitar. Nothing like a little live tune amid the rhythm of life!

As we go about our days, our weeks, and our years, may we each take time to make music and invite others to join us in joy-filled songs. May we create, build, and share in the gift the King of the universe has given us in living amid music! 

Reflection: Servant Leadership In The Form of a Good Friend

One of our values at Nuru is servant leadership. One of the core values of my tribe and my faith is also servant leadership. Growing up in Parkersburg WV, I saw both of my parents model servant leadership for me and my siblings and for anyone who was paying attention. I've appreciated it and also tried to live it out for much of my adult life. And, as our time in California was wrapping up during the first week of 2015 (among many other times), I saw it modeled in my coworker and friend Troy Hickerson (in the photo above). 

Troy is an incredible human being. He manages all of the IT needs of Nuru, and is also an executive and cofounder in two other companies working to address malnutrition among children in the developing world—Mana Nutrition and Calorie Cloud. You should check them both out, and consider ways you and/or your company/family can be involved with them! 

But that’s not the point of this post. Troy and I were hoping to connect during the week of the summit to go for a run, but his busy schedule kept this from being a possibility—until the day we were leaving. He invited me and Jamie to come to his house in Newport Beach for an early morning jog and catch up time. He was really glad to see us show up, and admitted when we were running a few minutes behind, that he half-expected us to text him with a ‘Sorry bro, we aren’t going to make it.” Jamie and I were not about to let that happen. Troy had to leave for a meeting in Los Angeles mid-morning, so we only had a narrow window. So, we ran for about 30-40 minutes and then, came back to his house for a quick shower before heading inland to see my brother one more time and board a plane back east.

Amid the entire morning, Troy demonstrated servant leadership, but then, he took an additional step and began brewing coffee and preparing bacon, eggs, and pancakes for breakfast for us. He welcomed us into his home and showed us hospitality. He needed to head to Los Angeles for a meeting, but he took his time, and prepared and enjoyed a meal with us.

Every time I see servant leadership in action, I am inspired. Servant leadership is completely counter-cultural to the way much of our world seems to work—it’s like an act of resistance against our own selfishness every time we choose to serve.

Who are some examples of servant leadership in your life? How do you take steps to become a servant leader? May we all learn to be better leaders as we learn to serve and care for the needs of others instead of seeking to serve ourselves!

Reflection and Video: Silent Night Sung By Moriah and Clint Lawson

Earlier today, thanks to social media (namely Facebook), I was able to watch and enjoy the vocals, guitar and mandolin of a couple of members of my tribe as they posted a video of themselves singing Silent Night on YouTube. To me, it seems like a really great piece to post as Christmas is fast approaching.

This afternoon, Jamie and I were in Lake Floyd when I listened to the video. As I listened to Clint and Moriah sing, many memories from our tribe's ceremonial grounds came flooding back to my mind. All of us were kids back then, and it really makes me proud of Moriah and Clint that they have continued to develop their talents and that they are sharing with others too. Clint and Moriah used to bring their instruments to our land in western Maryland, and we would laugh a lot, take part in ancient traditions, and then stay up late talking about Jesus and singing Five Iron Frenzy, Jewel, and No Doubt, along with older bluegrass music and of course traditional Shawnee songs and hymns.

And tonight, as I think about those sacred memories and consider the weight of what we celebrate on this Eve of our Savior's birth, I am filled with joy. I'm filled with joy when I think about choirs of angels singing praises as they visited shepherds in distant hills. I am filled with joy when I think about all that Jesus was born into, and all that He redeemed. And, more personally, I am filled with joy when I think about how faithful He has been to me over the years since we were a bunch of Shawnee kids hanging out and talking about Jesus to these times when as "grown-ups" we are still struck by the mystery and majesty that somehow the hopes and fears of all the years were met in Bethlehem in a manger.

Wherever you are, may you find some quiet space tonight to celebrate the wonder of it all, and may we all look forward to a future day when shalom will be restored, and all will be made right in the world. And until that day, may each one of us persevere in seeking justice, loving mercy, and walking humbly with the Creator of the universe.

Merry Christmas to all!

The Battle of Tippecanoe: 200 Years Later

On my way back from a recent trip to Columbus, Cincinnati, and Chicago for Nuru, I had an opportunity to stop at Prophetstown State Park and the location of the Battle of Tippecanoe. I have for a long time wanted to visit this site where Tecumseh and his brother were beginning to build a confederacy of American Indian tribes to resist the encroachment of western settlers into Indian territory. Over the last several years, I have made it a point to visit historic and sacred sites for my tribe with members of my family and tribe.

It was a bit ironic to me as Jamie and I took a break from our long drive to visit this historic site. The date we visited was November 7th, 2011--exactly 200 years to the day of the original battle. It appeared there were a number of people who came out for the weekend to commemorate and remember the combatants (based on the number of re-enactors I saw dressed as militia people walking around the grounds).

So a bit about the significance of the battle for me. My family is Shawnee. Tecumseh and his brother were also Shawnee. Tecumseh is seen by many as one of the greatest orators and military leaders in history. He and his brother had begun assembling an array of people from tribes all over North America to stand as a united front against the illegal encroachments of settlers into Indian territory. Not only was Tecumseh a brilliant orator and military strategist, he was also an astute diplomat and a champion of justice. He's one of my personal historic heroes, and holds a special place in the hearts and minds of all Shawnee people.

For every good thing that Tecumseh represented, his brother Tenskwatawa was the anti-thesis. In early November 1811, while Tecumseh was speaking to tribes in the southeastern United States to encourage them to join this confederacy, his brother was making claims to great power, influence, and medicine. And a young American leader named William Henry Harrison began driving a militia group to encamp near Prophetstown, the gathering place of Tecumseh's confederacy. Tenskwatawa told the gathered people in his village that if they attacked Harrison and his men, they would become bulletproof, and the bullets in the rifle's of Harrison's men would roll out of their barrels and turn to dust.

But that's not how it happened. Tenskwatawa rallied people to fight and early in the morning, they attacked Harrison's camp. Harrison and his men were ready. They routed the poorly executed attack of the confederacy (without their leader, Tecumseh), and destroyed Tecumseh's dream of a massive confederacy. It also secured Harrison's political future and he later became president of the United States.

As I stood at the site of the battle, I was overcome with emotion. I can't quite describe it. I began bawling my eyes out when I thought about the lives lost in this place, and the possibilities of a different future for shawnee people that were shattered during this event. After spending a couple hours walking around the battle ground and memorials with Jamie, we proceeded to drive to Columbus, OH where I was able to share the whole experience with my best friend in the whole world, Willie, who is also a member of my tribe.

He had really cool insight for me as I told him about the great sadness I felt standing in that place. He said, "You know, nobody who had been there for that battle could have possibly imagined that there would be a Shawnee walking over that land two hundred years later." His comment put things in a little better perspective for me. It was a bright spot of a different sort. It was a reminder of the power of perseverance.

In my tribe, we have a song called Itcheepon. As I walked the battlefield on November 7th, 2011, I found myself singing it. I'd like to share one of the verses here.

"Now you think that we're gone.
Look around you! Hear my song!
Aren't the skies still blue? Don't the rivers run?
We're still here on Itcheepon.

And as I close this reflection, I'm encouraged in the middle of walking through such a sad place, because there are still Shawnee people walking on this earth. Things look different than could have been even imagined two-hundred years ago, but we are still here. HeYa!

Corn-u-copia

Corn-u-copia, originally uploaded by chanchanchepon.

Last week, I harvested the corn from my garden. I haven't had as many photos of my garden here in Morgantown this year simply because I have been out of town so much.

But I've been in Morgantown for most of the last month now. And I was able to eat a lot of corn, and share it with friends. There was enough corn for a nice roast--everyone who wanted an ear could have one. The remainder, we cooked up and froze--I'm looking forward to some mid winter corn from the ol' garden.

It's amazing how much food can be produced in just a tiny square of your yard. And this food was produced with very little up-keep. We had sugar dots, silver queen, and some kind of red sweet corn. All were yummy.

I can remember celebrating green corn each year with my tribe in the past. We would have a big kettle in which we would cook all of the corn, and there would be plenty for everyone. It's a time when we remember and thank our good God for His provision, and we enjoy a meal together. Even though I wasn't with my tribe this year, I was able to celebrate green corn in an unconventional way with a few of my non-native friends who love Jesus and corn!


Now I'm just sad that green corn time only comes once per year. At least I have friends year round tho!

Me and the Kerr's Marching Through the Crowd

Me and the Kerr's Marching Through the Crowd, originally uploaded by chanchanchepon.

Yeah, i know. this is going back a bit, but this is a photo of me and the Kerr clan making our way through the crowd at the powwow. That's my hair in the foreground. ;)

So I decided against staying in a tent for now. Maybe it was the heavy rains over the weekend, or perhaps it's just the thought of dealing with the sand. I don't want to wake up in a windstorm or a tropical depression while staying in a tent. But maybe I'll try it later this week--time will tell.

Right now I am staying with 22 of the students who are involved in GCM's Leadership Training program. They have renamed their beach house The Soul Den, and it has been a pretty cool experience so far. Most of us don't do well with living in community like that, but there's something profound in the formation of our character that we are missing out on by not experiencing community in this way.

In my opinion, this is one of the best parts of the program. For me, it's also been cool sharing with the students and hearing what God has been doing in their lives this summer.

You know, as I was looking at the photo of my best friend and his family, I couldn't help but think--most of us spend our time navigating the crowd. We just kind of weave our way through. Maybe our real need is to stop weaving and navigating, and engage the crowd. We need to stop being passersby and get connected. With my frequent travel this summer, it has been challenging but possible to get connected with folks wherever I have been.

The sad truth is that many of us spend our entire lives in one place, and never venture to connect to the community around us. Take a step out today and make a connection with someone. Maybe it will simply be a gesture of hospitality toward someone else, or maybe, God will be doing something in you through the process.

My First Powwow in a couple of years

My First Powwow in a couple of years, originally uploaded by chanchanchepon.

Well, I am attempting to catch up a bit from the last month. I took this photo at the Lost But Not Forgotten 1st Annual Eastern Woodlands Powwow. If you are interested in checking out powwows in your area, you can visit this sitefor potential listings.

Powwows represent a hodge-podge of Native American culture from various traditions. While there are both spiritual, financial, musical, and physical components, these events largely provide a space for Indians and non-natives alike to connect and celebrate culture.

I went to visit my best friend on the planet--Willie--and his family near columbus and we took a road trip to this powwow. Willie and I both felt like it was one of the best powwows we had been to in a while. We knew many of the songs, so it was a bit nostalgic for us--it's not often you here Shawnee songs being sung at a powwow. The vendors were really friendly and down to earth too. Sometimes you can go to an event like this (regardless of culture--people are people) and it's as though people take on a different persona--people were very real, personable, and friendly across the board at this event.

While I was at the powwow, I had a long conversation with a flute maker. He had some flutes that were made from olive wood from Israel. The trees were very old. I told him I had a really good friend who did some woodworking in Israel. At first he didn't get my drift, and then he knew the woodworker I was talking about--that was his Master. So me and the flute guy talked about Jesus and flutes and powwows and music. I bought a flute.

I used to play in my tribe's tribal council house a while back, but never quite had the opportunity to play a ton, but now, I'm learning it again.

After cutting my hair, it's been really good to walk in places like powwows and experience traditions like playing the flute. Of course, most people have no idea about my background, and that's ok. It doesn't diminish me, my culture, or my enjoyment of my traditions (and other's) any less. It's good to be around other native people--especially Willie and his family.

This event took place about a month ago, but the story is worth sharing. If I am able to attend this powwow in the future, I probably will. And in the mean time, I will definitely enjoy playing my flute, and learning to slow down and appreciate the world around me.