Each week I teach guitar to
roughly 50 individuals between the ages of 10 and 60. For many of them this is
a new adventure, and after a few weeks I can really tell who is playing
regularly and who is winging it once a week in my presence. I know they are
playing because their fingers always hurt. I see them occasionally take their left
hands from the neck of their instruments and shake them out, like they are
trying to flick away the tension. They ask me when the pain will dissipate.
The very first lesson I teach all
my students is to understand their instrument, how to tune it, and how to use
it properly and respectfully. Basically, we use our left hands to grip the neck
of the guitar and press those thin strings against the fretboard with our
fingertips, shortening the length of the string, which creates certain notes
when we pluck or strum. I won’t go much deeper into the physics of it, except
to say that it is the grip on this instrument that makes the music.
“First, make sure your instrument
has integrity, that it is made correctly to do what it’s supposed to do.
Second, make sure the strings are
in tune.
Third, follow the chord pattern
with your fingertips, do you have your fingers on the right string and the
right fret?
Now PUSH! Your hand is a clamp.
Act like you mean it! (It’s going to hurt.)
Play each individual string in
your chord, and if the note is dull, or buzzes, or sounds like the wrong note,
check your finger positioning then check your grip. Push harder, and cleaner,
and stay away from strings you are not supposed to be hitting.”
For over ten years I have taught
this on a weekly basis.
It was true ten years ago, and it
remains true today.
I broke my left arm when I was
seven. And, when I was nine. And again, when I was ten. To this day my left
wrist is thinner than my right, because it spent so much time in a cast. (I
should have casted my waist.) Because my broken elbow was set wrong as a
seven-year-old, I have a distorted joint through which ligaments must pass.
Through the years, cartilage has broken off now and then, freezing up my arm.
My left hand, because of the distorted growth, is naturally weakened. One
doctor told me that I should not even be able to use that arm, according to my
x-ray. But I play guitar nearly every day. Truth is, I think I can use that arm
because I play guitar nearly every day. The daily exercise of gripping the neck
of my instrument, and sustaining that grip, has strengthened me where I had not
supposed I would need strength.
That same girl who broke her arm
three times tries other things, and ends up broken. I am as human as they come.
I get in trouble when I forget that. I mix things up in my head and end up in
trouble. I ponder too deeply on some matters, and forget to consider other more
important things, so that portions of my spirit have grown distorted, like my
elbow, though no one can tell cuz they can’t see under my skin. Even I can’t
see under my skin, and it took a physician to help me understand myself.
I confuse faith and knowledge,
for instance. I suppose that faith should be as absolute as knowledge, and
right now, for me it isn’t. Actually, if I understand it correctly, faith is
not to have a sure knowledge of something. Otherwise it would be… well, knowledge.
But for a Mormon girl who grew up listening to people claiming from the pulpit
that they “know this church is true”, there is naturally a bit of confusion on
the matter. If I want to belong, then I need to know. But the truth is, we are
not supposed to know. We are supposed to have faith, to believe in something
which is unseen, but which is true. That part- “which is true” - is really
important.
I can say, for instance, that I have faith that I am
supposed to be a goat. I can act like a goat, eat like a goat, speak like a
goat, even wear goat skins. But because it is not true, it’s just not gonna
fly.
ALMA 32:21 And
now as I said concerning faith—faith is not to have a perfect knowledge of
things; therefore if ye have faith ye hope for things which are not seen,
which are true.
I am thinking lately that I’ve
not given enough emotional weight to the potential of human beings to receive
revelation for themselves. I mean, the truth is that God Himself assigned one
of the three most important leaders of the eternities, a member of the Godhead,
to work with each one of us on a daily basis. Like our own personal spiritual
tutor, available 24/7 if we want. That is serious stuff!
He’s the keeper of my
Faith-O-Meter, the one who knows all and can tell all, on some level, if it is
important for me to know. Only problem is, I think it’s important for me to
know certain things, and He thinks maybe it’s not time for me to know certain
things. I forget to trust that He knows the me that is a million years older
than I am now. I don’t remember that “me”. I get impatient, and want to know
right this very minute why it is that some people have sexual desires for their
own gender, why it is that people think it is righteous to kill other people in
the name of God, why some spirits are born to bodies that are profoundly
impaired, why some spirits come to bodies in war torn Syria, and others are
born to starving mothers in hot desert places, and others are born to thick
warm loving arms in the land of the free and the home of the brave. I can get
so confused by all of this that I forget to hold my grip, and my hands become
weak, and I am prone to let go, instead of asking for help holding on.
Jesus went along being quiet when
he knew, deep in his perfect heart, that he held the whole truth and nothing
but the truth. That must have driven him crazy, knowing so much and having to
hold it in. So, when it finally came time to let the truth out, it must have
been a great joy and sorrow. The release of that truth would lead to his own
death.
It started with his calling
himself the bread of life. Feeble minds, like mine, interpreted that to mean
crazy stuff, thinking that he was cannibalistic. People took things rather
literally in those days. Disciples, aka. his followers, started pulling away;
loosening their grip, and eventually leaving him. Christ turned to his apostles
and said:
“Will ye also leave me?”
Peter responded:
“To whom would we go?”
This new stuff, this more difficult
“doctrine” that was coming out, was hard. No wonder former believers left. But
when one has given his heart to something, it is not easily removed. So it was
with the apostles, who had covenanted to remain with Jesus.
I too, covenanted to remain. And
deep down, where the basics of my being lie, I must ask deeper questions that
require me to dig deeper than my knee jerk responses want me to go. I mean,
really, I understand people leaving the church because they simply cannot
reconcile the doctrine of love with the doctrine of procreation and the
doctrine that disallows same sex marriage. It is so confusing, and it makes my
head hurt, and more so, it makes my heart hurt.
I keep returning to Love. And
there I keep my heart, even when my head is swirling.
I am in the boat with Jesus, and
there is surely a storm brewing all around us. I say to the others; “Someone go
wake Jesus, cuz we’re going to sink!” I think to myself “I wonder if it’s
better to jump ship now, before the storm gets any bigger?” And yet, something
in me, probably that guy assigned to help me 24/7, whispers, “Find the mast and
hold your grip. He is with us, and we will not sink. But hold on, because it’s
going to be a rocky ride.”
Sometimes my spirit hurts from
the gripping, like the fingers of my beginner guitar students. I tell them that
it will get better. Don't give up! Be sure your instrument has integrity,
that it is true and has good straight and trustworthy neck. Be sure it is in tune. Follow the
patterns designed to create good chords. Lay your hands in the right place and
then clamp down like your life depends on it! Hold your grip, then go ahead and
pull those strings. That’s where the music is hidden. And it’s glorious!
