In Taos, just north of the Plaza, I stopped in at a store, Robert Mirabal's. The name seemed somewhat familiar to me, and in fact, he is a Grammy-award musician, who happens to be a Taos Indian, and owns a music store. There was a special edition Johnny Whitehorse flute on display. My guess is that the case itself would cost a few hundred dollars. The flute sells for $2200. Needless to say, I passed. Possibly overwhelmed by its exquisite beauty along with its atmospheric cost, I failed to purchase a CD though. And I do enjoy music that reminds me of the places I have been.
A couple of weeks later, heading back home, I found myself in Woodstock, New York, visiting shops and checking out the galleries. We stopped in a Native American store, and while looking at the small flutes they were selling, I told Beverly about the magnificent Mirabal model, although I was a little uncertain of the spelling by then. The shopkeeper commented that he knew exactly who I was talking about, but his name was actually Mirabi. He disappeared for a few minutes, and came back with a burned CD, which he generously gave me, with the name Mirabi printed on it. I finally had the CD, and at no cost at all. Synchronicities.
Back home, I discovered that it was actually spelled Mirabal, and the CD was “Song Carrier,” a beautiful collection of songs played on the Native American flute. Since then I’ve downloaded a number of his albums from eMusic, and a month or so later, even purchased a High Spirits flute that I found for half price, or about 3% of the Johnny Whitehorse model. Yes, I would have loved that one, and the memories of Taos that it would have sung. But Song Carrier sings beautifully itself, and this Sparrowhawk plays along quite nicely in harmony.
Oh what is it about Taos that keeps playing its song and celebration in my heart?