Putting on a Guitar
Grateful for | 8
Putting on a guitar feels akin to…
Shouldering a Proton Pack.
Taking up the Trident of Neptune.
Unsheathing Excalibur.
It is the superhero suit-up sequence.
Buttoning the strap in place; hoisting it over head and shoulders; plugging in the patch cable with a satisfying metallic click.
It’s the long tradition of the millions that came before you, and the ones working in simultaneity, stepping onto the stage for the first or thousandth time. It’s charged. It’s connective. It’s powerful.
Joni, Jimi, James, Bob, Keith, Dolly, Marling, Mayer, Matthews…
…and the thousands of others who most of us will never know but are no less a part of the fabric, part of the act of faith, the gesture of connection.
And while mythic weapons are listed in the examples above, I’m not talking about the guitar as a weapon (though I suppose it could be, à la Woody Guthrie’s Martin 000-18 carved with the immortal words, “This Machine Kills Fascists”).
I’m talking about the feeling of wielding something that connects you to a form of magic. A form of magic that is connection itself. Whether to your self, to someone listening, to the spirits drawn forth, to whatever your notion of god or the eternal is, to the fabric of energy that binds us, to life itself.
Excalibur, the Trident of Neptune and the Proton Pack are only similar in that they are symbols of connection to something mightier that is both inside and beyond those wielding them. The Trident of Neptune can dissipate dark magic at will. That sounds like a guitar to me. It also helped Aquaman unlock his magical potential—guitar.
Of course, magic is a temperamental thing. You can just as easily exit stage right, guitar in hand, feeling more disconnected and demoralized than you did before you stepped onto the stage, or, entered the campfire circle, or, relented to playing for your dinner party guests.
But when it clicks and all aligns…
As Bob Lefsetz wrote upon seeing Joni Mitchell’s latest concerts at the Hollywood Bowl:
You look into the heavens with a smile on your face, thrilled to be alive, you didn't know it could get this good. This is what you wanted but couldn't really articulate.
He was writing as a fan. But the connection and feeling moves both ways. It is an alternating current in one massive circuit.
The past, present and future all one. The boundary lines melted away. A forgetting. A remembering. A merging.
No. You aren’t on drugs.
You didn’t shoulder a Proton Pack.
You put on a guitar.
love,
David
Seems like yesterday you never had that sword out of your hand!!! But I must say I do love watching you make magic with your guitar!!!
I needed to be reminded of this magic. Thank you Dave! Keep up the great work of unsheathing your sword, especially as our world needs that magic now more than ever.