The Belly of Hunger

Wanbli Wiwohpe (James Starkey) has persuaded me to change my references to “Native American” and even “Native American-style” flutes to North American flutes. While it can be argued that non-Irish play Irish flutes and non-Japanese play shakuhachi flutes, I make the change out of respect for a culture that has had so much of its identity co-opted, often for profit, in a way that potentially alters its essence. The flute is a meditative and healing, perhaps even what we might call a spiritual, instrument; so I continue to encourage its use for promoting peace, inner balance, and wisdom. The Journey of the Dragonfly is about seeking my own transformation and identity — but not at the expense of others.

Art and music belong to us all (or so I think) and may transform us differently according to our needs. This painting by Wanbli Wiwohpe (right) speaks to me in a powerful and personal way, even if I don’t share the artist’s cultural identity. It reminds me of a sketch by Henri Breuil based on a paleolithic painting discovered at the Les Trois Frere caves in southern France, sometimes referred to as “The Sorcerer” (see below). We have no way of knowing the artist’s intent some 30,000 years ago, but we respond anyway based on our own present knowledge and cultural experience. Perhaps we discover something universal in the essential spirit of being.

The elk antlers connect us to the primal world, expand our limited sense of human awareness. In Wanbli Wiwohpe’s painting, the flute — what he calls siyotanka or “great song” — both connects us and helps us express this primal spirit, which begins to transform us, as the butterfly suggests. We envision a close connection between masculine and feminine principles, reinforced by the image of the moon and implied sunlight (maybe the moon and sun are the same). The outer world is darkness or divine nothingness. The inner world is what we cling to even as identity (the faceless image) melts into the mind/body essence. Ego is replaced by primal instinct, even if for only a few precious, restorative moments. This force arises not from the head or intellect, not even from the heart of emotion, but rather from the belly of hunger.

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