For ages I have attempted to describe to everyone what I mean when I talk about die zauberflote -- no, not the opera, though I do think there is a connection, but the actual energy of something truly different and amazing.
Let me start by saying that I have added music to my prayers since the time I was quite small. My father tried to stop me, saying that it was not appropriate to sing my prayers, but I did so anyhow when he wasn't there. Before long I learned to play the flute, and before I had any conscious awareness of it, my life began to change, and all those around me did too. Tumultuous events occurred, so many that it is impossible to put them into a blog, so I have written a trilogy about them, called "Piper to the Alternative". Yet these events continue and so on a daily basis, or as they occur, I would like to share them with you.
In the process, let me also say that it is my honor to pray for everyone with whom I come into contact, and especially those who seem to have a special need. My flute practice every day includes such prayer to music; I call them prayersongs. They are always new, and always different. I used to wonder why they seemed so unstructured and unpredictable -- I could hardly notate them as Western-style musie -- yet now understand that because they are to some extent without meter and always new that they seem to have a calming and healing effect on others who hear them, and to effect healing and good for those included in them. I realized that this is in effect a prayersong ministry, though not religious in the sense that it is connected to or restricted by any church. I was a part of a religious community at one time until I discovered that they refuse to pray for anyone who is not a member of their congregation. I found this distressing and made a promise to play and pray for everyone without discrimination. And so, if you read my posts and feel that I can be of help to you, please email me and I will be glad to include your need in my daily prayersongs.
So, let's talk about yesterday, which is the reason I feel compelled to start this blog. I came back from errands in the morning, planning on organizing my day, when I heard sirens in our neighborhood. I took our dog out for a walk, also to see if there was anything I could do to help in addition to prayer. I returned home to plan my weekly trip across town to assist with teaching a therapeutic riding class. I headed out and decided to stop at Half-Price Books in Miracle Mile on the way. Though I had felt a strong conviction to do so, once there I did not find an unusual book, or a book I had been waiting to find at a discount, or anything special. So I left the store and prepared to back out of the parking space. In the blink of an eye, a big SUV plowed into the back of my sedan and ripped the rear fender off with its hitch. It pulled around, I thought in order to stop to exchange information, but instead they drove away! I caught the license plate numbers and then called 911. They said they would send someone out to take a report and try to send someone after the car that had left.
Then I looked up to see a woman who seemed to be being held up by a man. I got out of my car to see what I could do. I offered her my car to sit in since she seemed to need to sit down, but that was too far away, and she seemed only able to stand in one place. She was unable to speak. In the next moment there was the sound of sirens, and a fire dept hose truck pulled up, carrying paramedics. A chair was brought out by the HPB personnel, the woman sat, and the paramedics began to treat her. An ambulance pulled up and a police car, plus another vehicle. Of course, I began to pray for this woman whom, I realized, may have been the reason I had been drawn to HPB and detained there in the first place. She was stabilized and taken away in the ambulance. The officer assigned to help her was also assigned to take my report, which he then did.
The officer tracked down the owner of the suv, called them, and the husband claimed they had 'been home all day'. After explaining my experience for his report he decided to stop by their house and see if the vehicle was there. He was troubled because the man who owned the car wouldn't let him talk to his wife.
I thanked the officer, tried to stick the fender up in order to limp home on side streets, as I still wanted to make it over to the U in St Paul for classes. As I drove along Excelsior Blvd, other drivers called the fender to my attention, so I knew it was loose again. I pulled off the road into a parking lot, and another car pulled off with me.
Before I knew it a young man named James was tying my fender up with a shoestring he had. At the same time I received a call from the wife of the owner of the SUV. She apologized for hitting me and said she hadn't realized she had. I said, "a woman wearing a pink sweater was yelling at you to stop," and she said, "Oh really?" She gave me her address and asked me to send her an estimate of the damage; she would pay for it.
I thanked James and continued home. I dropped of the injured car, let our dog out, picked up the spare car and headed across town in the middle of rush hour, by this time; usually a teeth-grinding disaster. I shot across town and arrived at the U on time for a splendid evening of classes.
And of course there was a prayersong for all the events of the day when I returned home.
