I’m trying really hard to stop focusing on what and who has been lost over my lifetime, who is currently slipping away. (including loss of self on too many occasions to count) I keep reminding myself to focus on the gifts that come in; every day, ALL day. I’ve been waking up thanking the stars, the sky, the earth, God, the universes for all the up-and-coming surprises of the day. It’s been a huge internal transformation.
But I got slammed back a few steps when my friend pointed out that my Taylor guitar is showing signs of cracking in the body. Not just in one place, but a couple places. This situation felt worse than a kick in the stomach for the simple fact that I’ve not always allowed myself to invest myself in the biggest passion I’ve had since birth; music. For some reason, or for many (such as “you’re not good enough”/”you’re not worthy”/”you don’t deserve it”) I’ve invested in other things that come and go, but very seldom have I invested in instruments, equipment, lessons, etc. It took me a long time to reach a place of self-acceptance and self-love, a place that felt safe enough finally to purchase a really nice guitar that quite frankly was “beyond my means”; more than what I could afford. But I saw it as an investment. Not just an investment in my own music career, but an enormous investment in my soul.
And a year and a month later it’s already broken. And I feel that familiar “tearing apart” that loss often yields in its wake.
I just got off the phone with the man whose hands are going to try to lovingly restore her. I’ve been beating myself up, wishing I would have watched more closely, investigated what needed to be done in order to properly and completely care for such a valued part of my life. And this is what I was told after talking about how difficult it can be to monitor the proper humidity levels. (I’ve been semi-joking that the guitar is trying to catch up with my own dings and scrapes and brokenness.)
According to Tim;
One never knows when a guitar is built where the wood came from and where the wood that once was a tree survived. What conditions surrounded it. Usually if a guitar cracks, especially a cedar top, chances are that tree lived an extremely stressed life from the very beginning. It probably knew all kinds of adversity that other trees weren’t subjected to. It probably suffered periods of drought, of torrential downpours; extremes. Most likely, that tree was damaged, but remained so incredibly strong it managed to make “the cut”. And once shaped and molded into its new state, one can never know the misuse, the dropping, the twisting or bending or reshaping that that thin layer was put under, the tension constantly present. It might have been neglected. And once it was held and cared for, it was allowed to give in to the pressures it had always known. And the places that now are weak are asking to be supported, to be reinforced. Those additions might change its sound quality – slightly. Maybe for the worse, but most likely for the better. And there might be more repairs that need tended to in the future. But chances are, the guitar will be stronger than ever, more beautiful than ever, scarred but “added to” because of the character marks it will proudly portray.
I’m a little bit blown away by this new life lesson given through an experience that at first felt so negative and so heavy. This guitar found me. It sang to me, spoke to me when I heard it played for the first time. It continues doing so each time I look at it, play it, hold it. And from this day on, I will cherish it all the more for its strength and daring and determination.
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