2002-07-26 - 6:58 p.m.
"We cannot fully understand the beginning of anything until we understand the end."
--G. Spencer Brown
Adulthood presents us with few occasions to be an absolute beginner. Years ago we've given up on the things at which we were unsuccessful (softball, math, juggling, jokes) and the rest of the time we're pretty competent. I was considering what an uncommon experience this was for me, today as I approached the studio with my new guitar case in hand, for my first ever music lesson. If I had looked the way I felt, my guitar teacher would have found a very small girl standing there at his door.
I have always wanted to play. Mine was not a musical family, and the music lessons that are a rite of passage in some families were considered an expensive luxury if they were considered at all. When I was fifteen, I begged my parents into buying (actually I think they got it with trading stamps) a cheapie guitar for my Christmas gift. But there was no one to teach me how to play or even tune it, so I never got beyond making a variety of twanging noises.
Years later, married to x-husband #1(xh1) I learned some chords and a bit of strumming technique, and entertained myself endlessly with my own strumming and wailing versions of songs I liked. Xh1 was a talented, self-taught musician and he convinced me that anyone with a smattering of musical ability could teach themselves to play the guitar. After our divorce and for years after, I kept playing, even though I never really learned anything new. However, I had completely internalized his opinion that I should be able to improve on my own.
When Cary was little, he loved for me to play, and we used to spend hours going through song books. I would strum every song with simple chord changes, and he would sing along. He was probably my only appreciative audience. Mostly I sat around and played alone, late at night, just to have the chance to sing those songs that said what I was feeling. Loenard Cohen songs. Cat Stevens songs. And I always returned to the Joan Baez song that had the words: "I get myself to work by eight/ but oh, was I born too late?/ Do you think I'll fail at/ every single thing I try?" Because I had already failed at a number of things, and this was my anthem as well as my lament.
About the time I quit messing up my life, I also lost faith in my ability to play the guitar. I decided that I probably had no talent, just as xh1 had predicted. And a few years later I sold my folk guitar to another aspiring musician in a garage sale. I had a full time job, and a busy world, and convinced myself that I needed to concentrate on the things I did well. And I did that for a long time.
But then Skootie got a guitar. I tried to stay away from it, I really did. I reminded myself that I had no musical talent, and no time, and no..... guitar. That I was too old, and probably any window of opportunity for learning music was not only shut, but locked and boarded up. But I kept thinking about it.... and watching her go to her lessons, and learn to play step-by-step over the months, watching her practice. And I realized that I never gave myself a chance to learn by taking lessons. I just accepted an opinion from somebody else about whether I could play. And it quit feeling true. In fact, I began to feel like I'd given up on something that I'd wanted for all the wrong reasons.
So....I scraped up some money, bought a beautiful little classical guitar, and enrolled in lessons. Today was my very first music lesson ever. And I said: "Just consider me a beginner." I don't want to start from where I was. Especially I don't want to play any of those songs I played to give voice to my sadness. I want to start all over with new songs,and a new mind.
And my good fortune is to find Mr. Guitar Teacher who is one of those people who is spending his life helping people make music. Who believes it's never too late.
Who knew what I meant when I said: beginner's mind.
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