Not long ago my guinea pig friend died—the little guy in my avatar. I buried him in the backyard and planted some little daisies over his grave. Since he was such a whistler, I have picked up my neglected Native American-style flutes and have been playing to his spirit outside every morning and night.

By doing so I also hear the early and late birds, notice the air and what noises are going on, and I breathe into the flute. Sometimes when I play outdoors there is a squirrel who comes and watches me. Once, I kid you not, this squirrel then hung from one paw and swung while I played!

I like to think my little tunes are sending healing to all hurt places, those in myself and in the world, as I offer up a good morning and good night.