Saturday, August 4, 2012
I handle the guitar with gentleness and care.
I take the time to tune the guitar so that the "conversation" I evoke from her is as harmonious and pure as possible.
When the guitar does not sound as I wish, I take responsibility for the sound and investigate how I am using myself to produce this sound. I do not blame the guitar.
I listen to my guitar.
The tone of my playing reflects the level of my presence in the moment. Generally, I either am or I am not present. Can I develop the sense to hear the tone of my interactions with others as easily as I can with the guitar?
When the guitar needs attention, new strings perhaps, I give her the attention that is needed. Even when I do not "feel" like doing so.
During a session with the guitar, I pause and reconnect with myself. When I notice that the guitar has gone out of tune, I pause and tune her. I do not blame her for going out of tune, guitars just go out of tune.
When my emotions begin to overwhelm me during the act of playing, I find the time and the way to release them. Experience has shown me that if I do not then my playing generally worsens and more negative emotions arise. Simpler to address the emotions as they arise, then to untangle the complications from remaining in their presence for too long.
When I am befuddled with how to play the guitar, I seek out assistance from those with greater experience and knowledge.
I accept the limits of the guitar. Though Beethovan did refer to the guitar as a "miniature orchestra" she will never sound like one.
When my encounter with the guitar is over, I wipe off her strings and her body to remove any particles of my being that may affect her as she rests.
I place her lovingly in her case. Making sure she is safe and secure for our next adventure.
Then I pause and reconnect with life before moving on ...
So again I ask myself the question - What if I treated every situation of my day as if I were sitting down with my guitar?
Photo by Wonderlane