She was my first love. She felt perfect in my arms as I’d caress her neck. Some days, she would require more attention than usual. I’d painstakingly rub her down, relieve any tension and place her square on my lap. Her hourglass shape always brought a smile. She fit as comfortably as an old pair of blue jeans. The music that we made felt right.
This story isn’t the beginning of a five-and-dime romance novel. It’s a story about connecting with your inner self and the tools you need to get there. My device was a $10-yard sale guitar riddled with road wear. The sixth string had a bad case of fret buzz, but I was oblivious to her shortcomings. She was new to me, so we formed a bond.
Our souls connected. We would test each other’s limits. She brought out the best in me while I wished to give more.
That obsession started a life journey that has lasted well over thirty years. I can’t explain the positive vibe generated by simply stroking a single string. It’s electric, even when it’s acoustic! The energy I mean. It is a mystery that inspires me.
I wanted more, so I bought another guitar and another, and another, and another. My collection grew to the point that I finally opened a music store. Calloused fingers and a crippled bank account were small prices to pay for the joy of instant gratification.
I started to notice each of the guitars subtle differences. Their shapes and colors were unique; their sounds and feels were special. Like the trees that birthed them, these seemingly simple pieces of wood took on a life of their own.
I found myself helplessly falling down a rabbit hole in my search for the perfect guitar. My path, however, led me to a Martin D-16. She eclipsed my first love. How could that be? Early evening ramblings were the best. Everything seemed to flow once I allowed the muse to enter.
“Everything seemed to flow once
I allowed the muse to enter.”
