Yesterday I wrote about the Lewis and Clark mapping of the river route west across America. Of course they didn't have aeroplanes - Orville and Wilbur were not even a twinkle in their momma's eyes. But if they did have planes this (top picture) is what they would have seen; such spectacular terrain! But I have come to discover that Montana is a world of change. Everything changes, last night I strolled over to the Lewis and Clark lecture in shirt sleeves. By the time I left a gale was blowing and then at 3.45 in the morning we had snow - good job I packed a jumper. But I was thinking, what must it have been like in the eighteenth century, into the early nineteenth when Lewis and Clark were mapping the terrain. What must it have been like for the settlers, the seekers of a new life in the new world that became the United States? The hardship, the cold, the dangers - and even Clark go his horses stolen while charting the river. But its all very pretty too - though its turned wet and it will be interesting to see how things pan out as it gets colder overnight. And now, this evening I have been to a film and a talk on Crow spirituality and about the Pryor Mountains as a Crow sacred landscape, by Crow elder, Burton Pretty on Top. Which was incredibly fascinating - especially the storytelling and how the story seem to start but never end, because it is ongoing. And the links to life and a spiritual idea of how life is governed from a Crow perspective. And I also found out the Crow call Yellowstone River, the Elk River - I guess for obvious reasons. But it was a really interesting departure to be listening about a particular Native American Crow culture (he called themselves Indians btw). It left me much to ponder. And now its time to wind down and read - I wonder what the weather will bring tomorrow - I have my Hawaiian shirt ready (well you never know - this is Montana). And when I am winding down I like to have music on. When your iPod is on shuffle, sometimes a tune comes back to you, after having been away for a while, and so it was with this from Levon Minassian. The instrument he is playing is called Mey (by Turkish people) or Duduk (by Armenian and Kurdish people) or also Balaban (in Azerbaijan and Iran). I like to know these things. Turn it up, take five minutes and let it wash over you... like musical snow, magical and mysterious, unfolding, as Coleridge might have said, the secret ministry of frost...
