I still recall very clearly the first summer I decided that I wanted to play the guitar. I was twelve, bored, and had always been inspired by my mom’s songs and wanted to be like her. She had four or five guitars around the house and I asked her if I could play one one day. She gave me a chord encyclopedia and one of her old acoustics and sent me on my way.
The learning was slow and unnatural at first. I first remember doubting that I was even made for playing; that my fingers could stretch across the frets. The encyclopedia showed me where to put my fingertips for each chord, and slowly but surely I learned chord progressions. Sometimes, very slowly! I would play until my fingers bled and blistered. And I was never frustrated when I was learning to play. Patient, hungry for knowledge and skill, and falling more in love every day.
What I remember most clearly is learning the songs my mom passed down to me. We would sit on the back porch on summer days and she would show me new techniques and chords to her songs. Not only was it the beginning of important self expression for me, but also a special bond that me and mama would share. When I got my own guitar for my thirteenth birthday, we were practically inseparable. I moved from learning my mom’s beautiful songs to writing many of my own. Songwriting became an important avenue for expressing feelings of love, pain, truth, and grief.
When I was 17, I had the pleasure of attending a performance camp for young girls and women at the Institute of the Musical Arts in Goshen, MA. The two-week camp was nothing but music, music, music! I came back to California, sat down, and wrote four or five songs in the span of a week. I learned then and there that being around other musicians and songwriters was critical to my own creative flow. I am thrilled to be returning there, almost six years later, in a few short weeks to celebrate my first true love – music.
My guitar and my music is like an on again, off again relationship with no hard feelings. We may not speak for a while, but the next time we do, we pick up from where we left off. Today, I put new strings on my guitar. They hadn’t been changed in quite a while, and sounded simply delightful. Serenity – that’s her name – was grateful for the change. In every act of care I show my instrument, I am reminded of the love, joy, and peace in each melody.
