Precious Lord, Take My Guitar

I wanted to check out a lecture by an astrologer whose newsletter I subscribe to. He has a lot to say, it seems, about the upcoming solar eclipse. I haven’t seen anyone so excited about a natural phenomenon since Noah saw the rainbow. So I thought I’d fall by the West Hollywood venue where he was giving his talk last night. I might have guessed he wouldn’t be the only item on the menu, given that it was taking place at one of those “new thought” spiritual centers, but I didn’t realize I was in for a full-on service, complete with meditations, affirmations, and a choir. When I arrived, all souls present greeted me cheerfully, and I dutifully filled out a contact info card they provide for newcomers. I suppose it’s always nice to be welcome, even if the basis of the welcome is of the lowest-common-denominator variey, wholly detached from and purely unrelated to any merit I might exhibit as a human being, but rather just owing to the fact that I’m a member of the species. Like Fox Mulder, I want to believe, and thus I’m no stranger to such events. Nevertheless, it takes me a while to overcome the wary nature I default to, and sometimes I’m not able to shake it for the duration of the service. I do my best not to appear to be too resistant to the we-are-all-one-in-spirit ethos such gatherings seek to advance.
Anyway, the lecture was scintillating, if short. The astrologer had a gift for getting his point across in an entertaining manner. (I mean, he’s a Leo, so come on, right?) For the curious, a) the period leading up to this eclipse is going to be a doozy of opportunity for those who boldly pursue their dreams. B) A spiritual practice doesn’t protect you from your built-in character traits, nor does it provide insurance against episodes of anger, fear, despair, or negative self-talk. What it does is help you make peace with the world around you and accept yourself as you are, and perhaps even help you navigate those bumps with grace and efficaciousness. C) Asking why anything happens to us is a futile and pointless endeavor. Things happen because we’re humans living on earth. Best not to take it personally.
The little choir was on the money, too. Complex harmonies, well-executed. The congregation diminished by nearly half when the seven or so of them left their seats and assembled in front of the room. To my mind, though, they could have held their own at a megachurch. Especially given the nifty job they did on Michael Jackson’s The Man In The Mirror.
They were led by a vivacious strawberry blonde who played an Ovation guitar (the kind with the fiberglass bowl-shaped body). I went up to her after the service to congratulate her on the quality of the music. Of course, I also wanted to check out her guitar. For a guitar player, checking out someone’s guitar is a ritual — kind of what you do. That doesn’t mean that every guitar player goes up to every performer wielding their instrument of choice, but, in such a cozy setting, it’s not a departure from the norm. You can yak about guitars past and present and explore your mutual likes. You could even learn something. Of course, the real reason is so that you can show off your licks and bask in your new pal’s admiration and even better, envy. In any case, such a gesture is a way of extending a hand, breaking the ice — if you can endure the mixed metaphor — and forming a bond with your fellow guitar player.
So, after complimenting her on the sounds of her chorale, I asked if I could check out her axe. And, wow — she said no! Not because she was in a hurry or that it will turn into a pumpkin if she doesn’t get it back in the case. Her refusal was couched in a smile as she stated her policy — that she didn’t allow other people to play her guitar. I said, “okay, then I won’t,” and walked away. If I weren’t so taken aback, I might have asked her (in a most respectful manner, of course) what that was all about. There are some protocols about this, it’s true. You never play someone’s guitar without their permission. If the guitarist or guitar is a rare talent or item, you can understand if they demur, and you’re a good sport about it. But her Ovation was run-of-the-mill, even having a reputation for indestructibility. Since I failed to ask her “wha?” I was left to conjecture on my own. What kind of violation or ongoing abuse must she have suffered in childhood to be so protective of her guitar? Is it about not wanting someone else’s cooties, er, vibrations, on her precious instrument? I mean, I don’t honestly know that much about how vibrations work, despite my intentions to raise those of my clients. But really? Here in this place that’s all about fellowship and harmony and shared serenity?
This did happen once before, at some consciousness-raising seminar or another. A young woman folk guitarist did the same thing. “Oh no, I don’t let other people touch my guitar.” In the absence of a rationale, I’m left to think what they mean is “I don’t want your gross grubby male energy molesting my instrument.” Of course I’ll never know. But what I do know is that I NEVER EVER want to run into either of those women again and that I will NEVER EVER go back to that spiritual center. Well, unless they pay me. To play my guitar. Which I won’t let anyone touch. They’re lucky just to hear my cool licks and watch me play it! In any case, if you run into anyone from that place, tell them not to contact me. I don’t think my vibration could handle it.
