In Tune

My uncle came over tonight and immediately found my guitar standing alone and underplayed like a lost scratched cd. I don't quite take care of it or appreciate it as much as it deserves and I often forget about it. I often don't play it.

It should be my baby; it should be my friend. "It is my therapist," my uncle told me, staring me seriously in the eyes, looking into me to make sure I truly understood what he had just shared with me.

And he started treating it, doctoring it, tenderly showing it some love. And the guitar began to respond he informed me. He could feel it. In the strings, in the wood, in the sound, in the harmony he could feel it. It's energy began to change.

He began to be a kind teacher, one of the young ones you get in school, where they are more your friend, your soul's friend, talking to you and not at you. He taught me about the tune of the guitar.

I terribly simply thought the guitar is either in tune or it isn't. My uncle taught me it is a much deeper experience than that. Grand Canyon deep. Center of the earth, where the axis is, keeping everything moving, spinning, and balanced deep. He taught me that the tune of your guitar carries an energy with it, and that energy can affect you, your room, the whole aesthetic countenance of the room. Like there is an infinite harmony being released from the guitar all the time, and whether or not the guitar is in tune can change how you feel. Like you are either in tune or not. Considering the affects of sound on water, and our bodies are made up of over fifty percent water, the energy thing makes complete sense to me.

My guitar has an energy. The wood, the body of the guitar holds that energy in from the tune of the strings, and emits it into the room and into me. And my energy can be absorbed by others. We are all connected, and I am connected to my guitar. I need to take care of my guitar so that I am really taking care of me, and all those I come into contact with. My guitar is my friend. And our harmonies need to be in tune.