"I might some day walk across this land, carryin' the Lord's book in my hands. Goin' 'cross the country singin' loud as I can, one of these days" - Rice, Rice, Hillman, Pedersen "One of These Days"
Leaving Asheville, NC, I stopped in Cherokee, NC b/c I wanted to deeply connect with the spirituality of this people. I wanted to marvel at and serve the descendants of Lehi's people. Between my religious and secular readings of these people's culture, I want to hear it directly from the source, not just from the mouth of the white man. I just read that gold in Georgia is what sold the Cherokee up the river. In 1805, all alliances were ignored in the lust for riches. The Cherokee stories and folklore are also what drew me to this area. Their account of the creation of the world and the Fall of man/Adam have chillingly similarities to the specifics of my religion. Were it not for the brilliant Tecumseh (who created the Cherokee phonetic system and a chief elder's decision to have someone write down these stories, they may have never made it into our books and minds. They have great and lasting value. And just like my pioneer forbears, so also the Cherokee were chased out of their own land. The trail of tears stories have always brought tears because it is like many stories we feel so connected to and grasped by: We are not hearing about another's experience, we are reliving our own experience, or vicariously living those of our forebears (the remnant of their existence lingering in our being, in our very chromosomes, moving us to action). When I got dropped off in Cherokee by a very kind man from Murphy, I began to fiddle with my pack, musing upon how when I was in Band or Jazz Ensemble in high school I realized that it is so much more rewarding to make (play) the music rather than simply listening to it. Anyone involved in performance music can attest to this. It is exactly the same way hitting the open road. It is one thing to read an adventure (story). It is an entirely different and deeper matter to play (make) your own song (story). That's where I am (2nd last paragraph). I am not satisfied to hear about the journeys, I must go and make my own stories.
The road is the guitar, so ride down it and sing your song.
Leaving Asheville, NC, I stopped in Cherokee, NC b/c I wanted to deeply connect with the spirituality of this people. I wanted to marvel at and serve the descendants of Lehi's people. Between my religious and secular readings of these people's culture, I want to hear it directly from the source, not just from the mouth of the white man. I just read that gold in Georgia is what sold the Cherokee up the river. In 1805, all alliances were ignored in the lust for riches. The Cherokee stories and folklore are also what drew me to this area. Their account of the creation of the world and the Fall of man/Adam have chillingly similarities to the specifics of my religion. Were it not for the brilliant Tecumseh (who created the Cherokee phonetic system and a chief elder's decision to have someone write down these stories, they may have never made it into our books and minds. They have great and lasting value. And just like my pioneer forbears, so also the Cherokee were chased out of their own land. The trail of tears stories have always brought tears because it is like many stories we feel so connected to and grasped by: We are not hearing about another's experience, we are reliving our own experience, or vicariously living those of our forebears (the remnant of their existence lingering in our being, in our very chromosomes, moving us to action). When I got dropped off in Cherokee by a very kind man from Murphy, I began to fiddle with my pack, musing upon how when I was in Band or Jazz Ensemble in high school I realized that it is so much more rewarding to make (play) the music rather than simply listening to it. Anyone involved in performance music can attest to this. It is exactly the same way hitting the open road. It is one thing to read an adventure (story). It is an entirely different and deeper matter to play (make) your own song (story). That's where I am (2nd last paragraph). I am not satisfied to hear about the journeys, I must go and make my own stories.
The road is the guitar, so ride down it and sing your song.
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