While my guitar gently weeps

I started playing classical guitar about three years ago. My marriage was falling apart. I had a new baby daughter. My sense of myself was changing. I was letting some of the conceits of youth go. I was being forced to confront myself: what was left of myself, that is. And in all of this, I needed to have something that was truly mine. And that was when I started playing guitar.

I had no clue what a ride I was in for. I bought a steel string, acoustic and took it along to my first guitar lesson. My teacher took one look at it and said "no, you can't play guitar with that", and lent me his Aria instead.

I am in awe of my teacher. He is amazing. He is a superb player, humble and supremely patient. And trust me, with me and my slow, slow pace, he needs it!

One thing I really don't like, however, is practising. It is bloody hard! It is one thing to mess around and plink away and pretend that you're jamming along with youtube videos... ah... but practising is hard. I find it so hard to just sit down and get started! (Once I do, I get into it and I enjoy it). But it's just getting over the inertia! I find it is an excellent indicator of my mood and emotional strength. On days when I'm feeling low, it is harder to sit down and get started.

Almost three years have passed. I don't know if I'm really much good. I know a few pieces. Some days I play them better than others. But I do know that I love playing guitar. Some days I don't do much more than just play an arpegio or a chord over and over again. Savouring the sounds. Is there anything more beautiful? I think I am starting to understand what George Harrison was getting at when he wrote "my guitar gently weeps". Yeah, I know I'm crazy.

quink quink
36-40, M
May 20, 2012