“A tree that fills a man’s embrace grows from a single seedling.”

-Tao Te Ching, verse 64, Jonathan Star translation

On top of Lucy’s urn, two small acorns sit. They serve as reminders of Chapter One of Lucy’s Way and that underlying theme of small things turning out to be big parts of our lives, both literally and figuratively.

One of the acorns came from a kayak trip at Chain O’ Lakes State Park in northern Indiana a few years back when I was actually writing the first draft of Lucy’s Way. The other came from Pokagon State Park a little further north in Indiana two weeks ago, when I spent the weekend with one of the coolest families ever (yes, I’m slightly biased) for what was dubbed our Saluk(e) 2025 Reunion.

So real quick, about that “e” in parentheses. The last name of my Saluke side of the family used to be Saluk. I believe the story is that my grandmother had the e added so people would stop pronouncing it the wrong way (think Sa luck). Didn’t work. Instead, there were many new variations of mispronunciations, including Salyoukay, sayluke, and the most popular long e at the end, Salukey. Over the years, I’ve found the easiest way to explain the name is saying “it’s just like salute.” Or just not saying anything at all.

At any rate, the reunion was a blast. It was a chance to catch up with family, many of whom I only see every three to four years.

There were 20 of us cousins on the Saluke side (my cousin John passed away last year), and we usually bat pretty solid at these events, averaging 15-plus. Add in their spouses and families and it makes for a fun and busy reunion, a whirlwind weekend that always goes too fast.

This time was no different as it passed all too quick, and I followed up the three-day lightning-fast blur with a week of contemplation on just how wonderful it was. These reunions are always such a great reminder of how awesome my family was, and is. It’s a good chance to reflect on my parents, my aunts and uncles who are gone, all the way back to my grandparents. And it’s a chance to realize how small things, like three-day reunions, turn out to be such big parts of our lives.

I realized a very special nugget following this reunion: We don’t see each other for years, and yet somehow we are closer and more connected each time we meet.

I think I felt that even more this time around because of simply trying to remind myself to live life like Lucy did, and no matter how fast it all screams by, to be completely engaged in each and every moment to the best of my ability.

I did that at dinner with family Friday night, and during a hayride where 20-plus of us managed to stay out of trouble (yes, we have a history of finding ourselves in places we shouldn’t be late at night in these state parks and getting DNR assistance back to our inn). I did it at the pool with my immediate family later that evening. And at our catered dinner Saturday evening, there was a huge outpouring of love as cousins and their family talked with me about Lucy’s Way, many of them bringing their copies for me to sign and some picking up copies that evening. I actually ran out of books, which is always a good problem for an author to have.

On an early Saturday morning hike with Wende, (who I’ll be with this Saturday at Hive Mind Market at Abner Orchard in Marion as we join forces, me selling and signing copies of Lucys’ Way and her selling her Feathered Nest nature-medicine creations) I made it a point to completely engage with my surroundings. I allowed myself to become enamored once again with the beauty of the walking meditation: absolutely taking in everything around me while also being mindful not to trip over roots and rocks on the trail (or stumble off the path and plummet down a ravine).

One foot in front of the other, completely at one with the moment unfolding and engaged with nature’s harmonies, all while keeping in mind the lifeforce, hearing, seeing, touching, smelling, tasting all of life.

Noticing a handful of tall, wispy pines as I stared up into the sky, scattered in a cluster, I wondered how they began there, carried on the music of the spheres, a bird or other animal carrying a fragment over.

A mighty oak from an acorn grows, I think, listening to Lucy still talking to me, completely absorbed in nature.

Music of the spheres is an ancient philosophical concept, one Pythagoras prescribed to as well as Aristotle to an extent, that the distances between celestial bodies corresponded to musical intervals. It suggests the cosmos itself is inherently musical and the movement of planets and stars creates sounds based on their speed and distance, similar to musical notes and chords. It is a concept woven through art, science and Shakespearean literature. At least so an AI Google search says.

Music of the Spheres is also an album by Coldplay, a band popping up on my newsfeed relentlessly in recent weeks not so much for their world tour as much as the infamous mid-summer night’s dream gone wrong. If you don’t know, just Google “getting Coldplayed” and you’ll quickly be up to speed.

Go ahead if you need, I’ll wait.

Okay, so sometimes, when I screw up or it seems like nothing is going right, it can seem like I’m on that jumbotron, my peers and bosses and friends and enemies and the rest of the world looking and judging me. But the truth of the matter is, I’m not that important. None of us are.

Think about this…had that CEO and HR head from wherever not responded as if the entire world knew who they were, chances are they likely wouldn’t have been outed and they could have gone on with their illicit affair. Personally, I’ve never been a fan of cheating so I’m glad they thought they were that important and got caught.

This scandal actually sparked my mind into exploring the concept of music of the spheres and brought back memories of a Coldplay album I absolutely adored at the turn of the century, A Rush of Blood to the Head, which defined a moment in time for me.

The song “Clocks” often played as I hammered out a masterpiece novel that turned out to be nothing more than drunken gibberish. “Warning Sign” was a metaphor silhouetting the backdrop of a lonely time in my addiction. And “Green Eyes” played on the video screen as pictures scrolled by at my niece Julie’s funeral that I struggled through at just over a month sober. The songs on this album were the music of the spheres my life was revolving around at a particular point in time, post-college and struggling with my identity as I plunged further into the despair of addiction.

But in the darkness, the music was there, providing the slightest light in the midst of darkness.

Music has guided me in life, and Lucy’s Way was guided by a group of songs, as well as the natural flow of nature’s harmonies all around that enveloped me as I delved into this journey, something I now know was the music of the spheres.

The playlist I put together while writing Lucy’s Way seemed to happen very organically, the songs finding their way into my que at just the right time for the right part of the book. Yes, Lucy’s Way had her own soundtrack.

But that’s for the next blog.

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