I HAVE MIXED FEELINGS ABOUT THE MYSTICAL SOUNDS OF THE PAN FLUTE

Let me just put it this way: when I walk along the downtown pedestrian mall in the small town where I live, I’m not always ready to be transported to the glowing dunes of time by the sounds of the pan flute. It is often being played by a few guys with obvious ties to the netherworld, as evidenced by their far away expressions and tacky amulets. I’ll be on my way to CVS to buy trash bags or something like that, and the sounds of the pan flute will waft through the air, and suddenly, against my will, I’m being swirled into a Celtic soundscape. Or I am swimming through the ephemeral wreckage of an underwater kingdom guided by the light of three moons.

It’s sort of like being at the dentist and hearing Enya, and suddenly everything feels sweeping and timeless, except for the fact that when you open your eyes you are being offered bubblegum flavored fluoride by a very pale grownup.

What could be more discombobulating?