Six Strings

Funny story. When I decided to bring my father's guitar home from Montana in October, he sat me down to go over a few basics. Dad began by apologizing for the way the guitar was strung, half with metal-fiber and half with nylon. He assumed this was incorrect and explained that he had been too muddled to ask the guitar repair-person what he was doing. at this long-ago stringing. So I entered my first guitar lesson yesterday late and apologizing for the way the guitar was strung. Turns out, the guitar is strung perfectly.

How's that for an obvious metaphor? We enter new endeavors bowing and scraping a bit, prepared to apologize at a moment's notice when, lo and behold, we are "strung" exactly right for the opportunity. Sometimes too tight, sometimes too loose and out of tune, but fitting for the job nonetheless. Time flew by in my lesson yesterday, with my focus on the tuning, posture, picking and chord positions firmly in place I had no time to think about illness or discomfort or concerns related to these. When something calls to our hearts our focus can leave our heads.

My teacher is young (very), and an accomplished musician. He picked out a simple tune to show me the difference between using a pick and using your fingers and I was instantly awestruck. Of course he has been playing since he was six years old, and if I stop to think about the wealth of learning I need to accomplish on this instrument I could be overwhelmed. Patience and compassion towards myself will be as essential to the process as the guitar tuner and picks and sheet music, just as they are in the journey to health, and in the path of mishaps that I call my path.