Jan-Michael DeRuyter
AUTOBIOGRAPHY
My bio opens up my life’s history…the events that have guided me to this point…the point of creating a website to share the music that flows through me. I felt this to be important because it allows the reader to connect with me on a personal level, one of kinship. My belief is that we are all divine spirits in human bodies. We may appear different through beliefs, cultures, ethnicities, religions, and locations, but we all share the same basic human needs. The challenges we are here to work through may seem unique to every individual, but in reality, are not all that different from anyone else’s; they simply arrive to us dressed in different costumes…a disguise, if you will, to allow us choices on the path we are here to walk. It is my hope that you will join me on this journey through life, on whatever level is acceptable to you. And if the music that I offer can be a part of that experience, then I know I will be honoring my purpose in walking this earth.
Born in Southern California and raised on a dairy, I loved the outdoors. Learning from nature and living within those bounds, I picked up on the energy…the flow of life. This connection was more subliminal, rather than cognoscente, but even at an early age I recognized that life was an “all-or-nothing” affair. What I perceived as cruelty in nature was really just the non-judgmental ebb and flow of life, in terms of instinct and survival. So as life all around me would begin, end, and begin again, my beliefs became rooted in my heart that we are here to live and experience as much as we can. Using that philosophy as my guide, I embarked on a path of diversity.
For decades I vacillated between traveling and settling down, while a myriad of jobs and experiences came my way. I embraced them all in hopes of finding my life’s work…the thing that would give me purpose and fulfill my destiny. My resume is that of a “jack-of-all-trades, master-of-none". Besides learning the dairy business inside and out I’ve been a patrol boatman, a line foreman, a member on a Search and Rescue Team, a volunteer firefighter, an EMT, and a certified nursing aid in a long-term care facility. I’ve worked in the agricultural industry picking fruit, shoveling mountains of livestock crap on farms and tons of corn off of railway docks at a mill, drove a flatbed truck for a feed company, worked on a 10,000 acre beef ranch running fence, driving farm equipment, and working cattle, managed a tree crew for a utilities company, mentored under an arborist, and collaborated with the Bureau of Land Management to create wildlife habitat. In the construction business I started off by digging ditches, next moved on to framing, and then to finish carpentry. From there I managed a construction and supply company, operated front-end loaders and heavy equipment, drove concrete mixers and pneumatic trucks, and obtained my Hazardous Materials license to drive various trucks locally, intrastate, and interstate. I worked for a sewer inspection company running cameras through sewer lines, and for a recreation company building water parks. While each and every job was very adventurous and educational, I still didn’t feel like I had found my calling. My father had always told me that the only way to make any money was to work for yourself, so I thought I’d give that a try. I started a small welding company, began a diving business repairing and maintaining boat bottoms and doing recovery work, created a tree company doing planting, pruning, and tree removal, and started a 
coffee house on the Oregon Coast. Even though all of this was great for life experience, I was still left feeling unfulfilled and empty in the area of passion and purpose.
My passion has always been music, and I was fortunate enough to grow up in a household where Music and the Arts were a part of my life. My father was a Dutch immigrant who regularly broke out into song, Dutch songs mostly, but he was also fond of folk music groups such as The Kingston Trio. I loved to hear him sing, and to see his eyes…his whole being smile! My mother was an artist, raised in New York. As a teenager, she would take the bus to Greenwich Village, observing the sights and expressing herself on canvas. When I wanted to play in the elementary school band, my mother supported this new-found interest of mine by purchasing a record player and albums (yes, a record player and albums) for my very own. She made sure that the music was compiled of artists across a wide spectrum of genres. Mahilia Jackson, Mario Lanza, The Kingston Trio, The Supremes, Roger Miller, Sammy Davis Jr., Glenn Miller, and even Dutch Bandwagon music all helped to shape my musical world.
My first choice of instruments was the alto saxophone. I told the guy at the music store that I wanted something “easy”…I was so naive! After getting over the shock of just how difficult it was, I stuck with it because I absolutely loved big band music. The way the instruments blended together to make that sound, and the bursts of solo performances, just lit me up! The frustrating thing was that big band music wasn’t popular in the early 1970’s. Oh, there were some similar types of sounds such as Chuck Mangione or Maynard Ferguson, but they were the exceptions. Then in high school, I discovered jazz. Of course I had heard jazz, but was never able to connect with the free-form, seemingly unharmonious stuff that I had been exposed to. It wasn’t until I became involved with the school Jazz Band that I realized the true purity of the art form.
While I was excited about playing in the band, at the same time it scared the heck out of me! During a performance, many of us would get a chance to solo. I was so afraid that my efforts wouldn’t be technically perfect, that I’d miss some notes or rhythms and everyone would know that I’d screwed up. But as luck would have it, at some point during my junior year, a very accomplished saxophone player joined the school band. He taught me about the “zone”; how letting go of the mechanical aspects of playing would allow what I was feeling to flow through me and become my art. What a concept! The first time I experienced this I remember finishing the piece, and as I opened my eyes I was greeted with the sights and sounds of people standing, clapping, and even cheering. I wasn't aware of the notes or rhythms that I'd played, but only of what I had felt. Apparently, this communicated fully with the audience. It was a true revelation.
My love for music and performing never waived, and I continued to learn other instruments such as guitar and bassoon. I even
found an interest in singing, and was encouraged to pursue that as well. I was part of a Folk Trio, a Pop-Jazz Band, and I sang and played guitar at church on Sundays during the Folk Mass, which at the time was a new concept for the Church. As a matter of fact, the Folk Mass was so controversial, that I remember overhearing the priest refer to it as the “Ding-a-Ling Mass.” OY!!!
During this time, the music was always just a hobby. Although it was the only thing that I really wanted to do, other people in my life made it clear to me that, “One cannot make a living playing music! Well, not unless one is very, very talented and very lucky.” I guess they thought that neither applied to me, and because these people were important and influential in my life, I believed them. Taking to heart what they were saying, I meandered along through a succession of jobs and businesses, trying anything that sounded interesting and that had the potential of making money. I had been taught that having money was the “have-all, end-all”, and that working hard would give value to my life. The money was verification of this; it didn’t matter that what I was doing didn’t mean a hill of beans to me, nor did it matter that there was no spiritual fulfillment in it. The money was supposed to overcome all that. So, using this belief system as a life model, I eventually worked myself into a very hard working, very spiritually muted individual.
Finally, while living in Oregon, I had the good fortune of meeting a man who opened a whole new world to me…that of arboriculture. He taught me to understand trees; to climb without causing the tree injury, and to prune achieving a natural look and flow. I loved this work. Although physically demanding, it was creative and spiritually fulfilling. It seemed that this was my calling! I attended every seminar, exposition, and class that I could in order to further my knowledge. From there I became involved in rehabilitating wildlife habitat throughout the Pacific Northwest. During these jobs, I would camp out in the old growth woods for days at a time with my Rottweiler companion feeling at home among the Douglas Fir, Sitka Spruce, Broadleaf Maple, Choke Cherry, and all the diversity of a healthy forest.
A few years before, I purchased my first Native American flute because I was captivated by its sound. I had yet to understand the true nature of this beautiful instrument, but when I started to play in those forests, in touch with the essence of life, something happened. A connection was made with something much larger than myself. As thought gave way to feeling, the music became more beautiful, more melodic, like some language I could suddenly speak…a language that communicated with all of life. At that moment, I understood what prayer truly was for me. My music was a direct connection with the Creator. From then on the flutes became my sanctuary, my vessel for praying and self-healing, and eventually for the healing of others.
At first, this music was a very personal thing. I spoke of it to no one else, not wanting to explain it to others or risk ridicule from them. It was too close, too private. How could anyone understand? Then I met Charles Littleleaf. The connection with him was immediate and deep. I literally felt as if we were old friends, reunited after a long time apart. We spoke of life, spirituality, and flutes…much about flutes. He played beautifully, and when he handed me a flute he was working on, I had no fear of ridicule or judgment. I closed my eyes and played. Finishing, I opened them to see Charles nodding and smiling. He said, “Just like a beautiful prayer.” We talked and played into the evening, and as I reluctantly rose to leave he said, “You have to record your music.” I asked him why, embarrassed by the prospect. He replied, “You've been given a gift. It isn’t yours to hold. There are many people who need this healing music. You, yourself, have knowledge of it...have felt the healing. You should share it."
To be perfectly honest, I had never considered such a thing. It was completely out of my comfort zone, so I put it on my “to-do” list. Then my life took a turn for the worse…actually several turns. My marriage of thirteen years ended in divorce and my father was diagnosed with terminal cancer. I sold my business, enabling me to help care for him, which I did until his passing. For months I watched this once strong, powerful man dissolve away with each metastasizing blow of the disease.
I wish I could say that the music kept me centered through it all, that it was my grounding and my saving grace, but I cannot. The truth is, I pretty much fell apart, caring not for anything or anyone. I wandered and squandered my life away. I had no direction, no purpose, and didn’t care that I was lost. I closed myself off to all that was positive in my life, destroying it with my anger. With the passing of much time, the intensity of my anger diminished to the point that I could once again hear the voices of life, of hope, of forgiveness…and finally forgiveness of self. I returned to tree work reveling in its beauty, in the closeness of creation, and in the satisfaction of contributing something important and lasting to life.
Eventually the desire for music returned, and I tried to play my flutes. After a few minutes of trepidation, of trying to will the music into being, I just gave up and let go. Then praying with words, I said what I needed to say, and waited. I listened to the trees, the wind, and God. As afternoon rolled into evening, I brought the flute up and began to “pray” into it. Breathing my prayers in waves of emotion, I felt my heart open to the Creator. I felt as if I was, again, one with all of life…and I felt thanks. Months later I ended up back in Southern California where I recorded my first CD, “Prayers From Within". It was a very low budget project, but gave me the opportunity to hear my music. The response from this endeavor was wonderful and unexpected, confirming what Charles Littleleaf had told me. My music was both healing and needed by others, and was indeed a gift to be shared.
For the past several years, I have been afforded many opportunities to grow musically and spiritually. I’ve been able to record my music and play live on stage, and this music continues to touch people in ways that frequently amaze me. I look forward to more projects and performances, and to the creative process they will present. I’ve also remarried, and this relationship is a blessing in every way. It’s one of support, balance, and love without reservation. However, during this time I’ve gained insight into my humanity, as well, and it’s not always pretty. When the ego dominates, I can’t seem to get out of my own way. When the spirit is primary, miracles unfold before me. I suppose this duality of mind/spirit is something that plagues most artists, indeed most people.
In the end, while accepting my humanity and all the setbacks and lessons learned, I know that my driving force is spiritual. It is the music, and the communication with all of life, that gives me purpose. It pulls me forward, leads me to peace, and opens my heart showing me the commonality and “oneness” of it all...it is a beautiful thing.