My whole body goes into a trance as the sounds of my imagination take me to a place where no one else goes: a swirling sea of assonance that has created a magical place for just me up on a grassy hill where birds are chirping and the sun is shining.
There is something so magnificently beautiful and magical about the melodies a guitar creates when it is strummed. I love picking up my acoustic fender when I am filled with emotions that are begging me to go into self destruct mode. I pick up my friend and I sit her on my lap. My arms wrap around her smooth finished body as if they were meant to fit right there in the nook of her hips. I put my fingers on the fretboard and create a G chord. The sound brings me back to high school when I was struggling with my sexuality and people around me. I would pick it up and start playing “Good Riddance,” by Green Day because it helped me to get my
anger out in a positive way. Isn’t that marvelous? To be able to turn emotions into songs and sounds that soothe the ear is incredible. Music heals! So now as I play her I take all of my angst and chagrin and I play as hard as I can. I exaggerate some strums with such force that it feels as if I could snap every string in the matter of mere seconds. I even add my own euphony to the beat of my heart. I get lost in the harmony. In this moment nothing else matters. I am one with my guitar.
Isn’t that marvelous? To be able to turn emotions into songs and sounds that soothe the ear is incredible. Music heals!
In times of struggle I tend to picture a guitar in my mind. I try to create vivid imagery of it in my head, which can be a difficult feat at times. I imagine the curve of its body and the way the wood contours to the frame. I can see the richness of color in the wood as its lines swirl around the whole beautiful instrument. I imagine the neck and how it would feel with my left hand wrapped around it. I then sit back and can hear the sounds my strumming creates. My heart starts to slow down. I go from 125 bpm to 100 and then 90. My shoulders start to relax and my head tilts back. My whole body goes into a trance as the sounds of my imagination take me to a place where no one else goes: a swirling sea of assonance that has created a magical place for just me up on a grassy hill where birds are chirping and the sun is shining. I suppose an acoustic guitar may just be a wooden instrument, but to me it is a life saver and best friend all in one. During my times of trouble it is there for me. My guitar has yet to fail me in the same way that a mother bird never fails to love her chicks. Everytime I hear the strumming of such a magnificent object, I am brought to that imaginitive land of wonder and possibilities.