Guitar classes. My husband gave me a series at McCabe’s for Christmas this year. I haven’t played since I was in college but was inspired to pick it back up again after all this time.
It is definitely harder on this old brain to make it all work – fingering and plucking and reading and rhythm. But it is a fantastic reminder that it is diligence and persistence that make the difference, because at each class we are all a little better.
For the most part, it is mechanical and clumsy, the transitions to chords slow and muddy. There is no ‘passion’ yet in what I play because I have to keep looking down to see where my fingers are supposed to go.
This Monday the seven of us in class came together as usual and our instructor handed out John Denver’s “Take Me Home, Country Roads.” Amazingly, our practice was paying off as we now knew all the chords, we knew the strum, and so away we went. And as we played, one of the guys from McCabe’s joined in with a standing base, adding his thumping drive to the music.
Our instructor started riffing on the melody and we all joined our voices to the chorus – the only words I could remember after all these years. And then it happened.
…. We took off. Like that feeling when a plane’s wheels leave the tarmac, we were soaring in the music. Not thinking about it, but strumming and singing in the pure, sweet joy that is being in the complete flow of the moment. I whooped and cheered when we were done, so proud of how far we had come.
So this is what I want to share with you my dear ones – joy can happen anywhere, at any time.
As I’d heard from my fellow players, we understood how much of a relief these 90 minutes a week were in the midst of this insane political climate.
But here is the thing about joy (and love and truth) – It happens. Often when we are not looking for it, or seeking it out. Joy happens, unexpected …. accidental like … stumbled upon. Hold it precious when it does.