A Personal Essay by Candice Boren
Alone, I feel it; with others, I see it. The gleam in their eyes when they recognize the opening chord. The smile that eases its way across faces. “Oh yes!” someone exclaims. “I love this song!” sighs another. I feel the joy myself, creeping its way into my heart that so often feels empty.

The screen lights up, yellow bars filling the left side. Shifting, I turn the bottom left peg, watching the number of bars increase; yellow, yellow, green in the center, then a red bar. I went too far. Twisting the other way a fraction, I repeatedly plucking the string to keep the sound going. Finally, green. I pluck a few times; the green stays in place. Spreading my hand across all the strings, I stop the sound short, leaving only the echo of the note behind to fade away. I release and start again with the second string; the A string. The bars move back and forth, I twist and turn. Again with the D string, the G, B, E. Back and forth, twist and turn, then settle. In tune.
I strum. The sound of the six strings rings through the air, dancing around each other before molding together in one harmonious sound. Down, Down-Up, Up-Down. The pattern comes naturally, flowing off my fingers as if they were designed for such movement. My left hand moves along the neck, forming the chords necessary. G, D, A7. My fingers feel their way along the neck, shifting from string to string, stretching and reaching for the proper positions. I close my eyes and allow my fingers to do their work: Down, Down-Up, Up-Down; feeling, reaching, stretching. The music carries me away. It swirls in my mind, entering one ear, dancing through every nerve and cell in my body. Down to the farthest point of my toes, back up to my heart, where it flutters for a while before making its way back out the other ear and off into the air, where it may bless another soul with its beauty.
Pain. I feel it forming in the tips of my fingers. I pull my left hand away, rubbing my pointer, middle, and ring finger with my thumb. I place my fingers back on the strings, feeling them press into my fingers again. The pain isn’t a problem; rather it is invited. It is proof of hard work, a small price to pay for the magic that is released with the music. I see that magic at play when others are in the room. Alone, I feel it; with others, I see it. The gleam in their eyes when they recognize the opening chord. The smile that eases its way across faces. “Oh yes!” someone exclaims. “I love this song!” sighs another. I feel the joy myself, creeping its way into my heart that so often feels empty.

In tune, feel, reach, stretch, down, down-up, up-down, open, release, accept, bless, heal, serve.
The first paragraph on tuning is so intricate. I play the violin so I know all about how difficult it is to get the tuning right. The parts where you write out the chords has a soothing rhythm that I enjoy. Good job!
ReplyDeleteI liked all the details of tuning in the opening paragraph. Also, the down, up repetition was great. Your love of music is definitely felt in this!
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