The Native Flute and prayer...

Sunday always seems to be a feel-good kind of day. A day of rest, a day of prayer and reflection, seems like the sort of tonic we need every now and again. As I am an introvert, and a pensive, inward-looking person, I milk it for everything.
My routine for prayer is the playing of songs on a Native American flute. Somehow, I feel like the music which emanates from the flute is a sort of meditation, a closer bond with the Great Spirit. I don't know for sure, because I constantly hear music in my head, but it seems my only qualifier...whatever the case, it always calms me down. Music to soothe the savage beast within, you could say.
The tones from the flute are the purest form of sound I can perceive, the closest to a sine wave. Every note sounds like it was newly crafted from the same clay the Great Spirit used to mold the universe. Undiluted by sludge, they resonate crystal clear, not echoing from a canyon, or drowned in digital reverb to simulate ambience. No, these notes are stairsteps to my heart...