I love the sound of the saxophone. It became my singing voice, and it sounds so human. The saxophone could carry the words past the border of words. It can carry it a little bit farther.
I don't see the desert as barren at all; I see it as full and ripe. It doesn't need to be flattered with rain. It certainly needs rain, but it does with what it has, and creates amazing beauty.
Humans are vulnerable and rely on the kindnesses of the earth and the sun; we exist together in a sacred field of meaning.
I believe in the sun. In the tangle of human failures of fear, greed and forgetfulness, the sun gives me clarity.
I chose poetry. Actually, poetry chose me.
I come from a long line of revolutionaries.
I never fit in. Everyone knew my dad was Indian. I was half-Indian.
I started writing to save my life.
Most people don't know that Congo Square was originally a Muscogee ceremonial ground... in New Orleans, the birthplace of jazz.
My mother wrote lyrics and sang but was overtaken by life with four children and worked.
Someone accompanies every soul from the other side when it enters this place. Usually it is an ancestor with whom that child shares traits and gifts.
Sometimes, I think, in order to get to something that we really want or we really love or something that needs to be realized, that we're tested.
The homeland affects you directly: it affects your body; it affects the collective mind and the collective heart and the collective spirit.
The radio is playing jazz, and I listen to the sound of the trumpet playing a solo until I become that sound.
We're all given something to do. And when we don't follow what we're supposed to do, we always know when we're off track.
For un-subscribe please check the mail footer.