If our world could lean into the dichotomy that defines this man’s existence, it would be at peace.
Through his life and music, he compels me to reflect on my own existence and purpose. The juxtaposition of a construction worker playing such soft, beautiful music stirs something deep in me. The feeling that this man is wholly, unapologetically himself inspires me. His presence makes me question my own life—the tension between the parallels and contrasts that define me. Raised a Jehovah’s Witness, living in the South, yet being gay—these experiences have shaped how I act, how I see others, and how I navigate a world that resists being challenged on its antiquated boxes. Too often, they have left me feeling overwhelmingly alone and hopeless.
It’s a constant duality—accepting myself fully without hiding, yet tempering that expression to avoid letting others’ ignorance, hatred or misinformation embitter me. It is the struggle to aim high when the world seems hell-bent on tearing itself apart and exalting those who show little compassion or integrity. I fight to shift my perspective, to see my journey not through the lens of victimhood, but as something I can shape. Balancing my existence has been both a burden and a blessing—like a pressure so great that it creates a diamond. Now, I may be no diamond, but life keeps trying to show me that it is precious, beautifully complex, and… in the longest battle I have fought… that I am good enough. I have had to learn to shift my perspective, to find my core values, and to lean into love—even when anger and despair threaten to take hold. When I see people who have endured so much yet remain meek and kind, I see true strength, integrity, and courage.
Perspective is a choice. Yet here in the West, where those who have the most often cast themselves as victims, that attitude has trickled down into the nation and, tragically, some of its leaders. Strength is seen only through power, never through compassion. Worse yet presenting evil acts as an act of love and compassion. Leaning into fears it has created to insure its own protection. Judgment, selfishness, and a lack of gratitude become roadblocks to progression, creativity and peace. I do like the quote, “It’s better to be a warrior in a garden than a gardener in a war.” But if the warrior never confronts his own demons—never heals his own trauma—he will only blame the garden for not growing. He will destroy it with his cruelty and cowardice, his inability to face his own fears and weaknesses. Never educating himself on how it all works, he will remain proud of his ignorance. He will label himself a victim of his surroundings, never understanding that he caused the destruction. And in the end, he will be left a man with no self-worth and no purpose.
Listening to this man in his construction gear, blending concrete and steel with a sound that pulls us back to nature—back home—I feel something deeper. The drone flute, with its deep connection to Native American culture, carries a reverence for the earth, a harmony long understood by its people—a people, sadly, largely forgotten in this country, along with their deep connection to spirit and the land. Its frequency shakes the soul free from the exhaustion of modern life, reminding me that we have a potential we have yet to tap into—a strength in connection. A strength in our storytelling, in our journey, that could unite humanity. Every note is a journey brought back to life from the beginning of the world, connecting us to the past, present, and future. We must learn how to be led by it.
He is a man who embodies both strength and compassion, seamlessly blending the two in a way that defies the rigid labels the world so often imposes. In a society that sees only black and white, he is living proof of the depth and power found in embracing both. A blue-collar worker, unshaken by the judgments of those around him, he carries himself with quiet confidence—tough enough to stand his ground, yet fearless in his pursuit of peace through music. His presence challenges the notion that strength must be hardened and that kindness must be soft. Instead, he shows us that through true connection and shared experience—through storytelling, through learning from the past—we can move forward and find our true north as a collective humanity.
I have come up with a saying now. A mission statement so to speak. At least in my mind something to aim for.
I want to be a wanderer of the wild.
“We are those who transform our pain into purpose, using the strength forged through our struggles not to remain victims, but to become pioneers of positive change”
I hope the links to this mans music inspires something in your soul as much as it has for me.
Enjoy Paul Harvey Flute Guy