The dreamtime continues

I am performing at Black Rock City, Nevada - a.k.a. Burning Man. This is center stage of Center Cafe and the year is 2003. I dragged my recycled didjeridoo from OBOP, the theme camp that was my home for about 10 days. The playa is perfectly cracked and fits together as mother nature's version of the jigsaw puzzle. The air is dry and hot. I've been in this temporary town, which will contain over 30,000 futants before the man is burned, for a couple days. I walk over to the sound guy and ask him if there is a performance schedule. He kind of shrugs, mumbles and trys to rub the sleep out of his eyes. A couple neurons fire and he says: "Go up on stage and start playing, the next act is late or something." So, I make my way up the stage and determine that the mike is live. I speak into the microphone as I survey my audience of maybe a thousand or 2. I tell them that i am honored to share the didj with so many beautiful humans. I tell them that the didj is an instrument that is over 50,000 years old and that it is a gift to us humans and the planet from the Aboriginal people of Australia. I explain that the didjeridoo, that I am about to play, would be in a landfill if I did not salvage it and convert it into a didj. I say: "I am an Earth Guardian and it is my honor to pick up garbage." I then begin to play. Initially, for the first 5 minutes or 10 or so, I struggle to gain altitude as my breathing wings begin to unfold. Some time, some moment, some how, the dreamtime opens and now my body takes over and I am the wave that is being ridden. I am flying thru the atmosphere and approaching the spped of sight. I feel the internal topography of my body open and my breath sings thru the grey tube, the earth rhythm accelerator. I listen to the cacophany of polyphonic sound enshroud us all in a bubble of peace and love and we melt together as our awarenesses become one. I start hearing a deep beautiful chanting of ooooomm shhhiiiivvaaa... I am detatched and listen along with the audience. I think to myself that it must be a nearby camp with a loud sound system. 5 minutes, maybe 10 go by and then I realize that it is I making these sounds, this mantra. Who am I? Ancient, newborn and timeless, I remain detatched. I am just a channel. Soon, other musicians appear at my side - we combine forces and the dreamtime continues. Shanti.