Artist's Process Part Eleven

For several months I have been practicing guitar one hour every day,

In fourths tuning, learning by improvising around musical intervals,

Taking a course that is only ten days long for someone with two years experience,

Perhaps a couple of months if fairly new,

But doing it my way, I am one third way through after 5 months,

And actually learning.

I put in over $1200 of upgrades,

I created a perfect spot to sit, set up lighting to create atmosphere,

It would be a place to do multitudes of repeated picking,

Tap my foot creating rhythm, or tapping to rhythmic plucking,

Using headphones plugged into a headphone amp

with over 70 simulated amps and effects to keep it fun.

Underneath all this, a sense of starting late, a wanting

To receive every advantage, avoid pitfalls to learning,

A connection to the zone, but also allowing my identity to play with

Wanting rush to an emotional outcome, feel part of upheld ideals

of a guitar community, to have things valued, to do things valued,

to maintain excitement, interest,

and all the while not needing these things while in the midst of repeated playing,

just feeling old emotions, concerns come up, acknowledged, moving forward,

knowing I am not the identity wearing the guitar strap,

or whether I fit my own ideals, or look the part, or who I will become,

or who I must be pretending to act like,

I am just playing, but all the while that ‘stuff’ playing also,

And not much of it useful to express to energize my playing,

The zone of playing is me, I have decided.

But I got it in my head to get a professional amplifier,

I researched, the purchase would also be simple,

Financing making it even more silly to worry about its significant cost,

I have gainful employment, I am not a teenager, I can justify endless dues,

I have been without music in the game of survival, and here is justification,

Another place where I can feel alive, and connect beyond words,

Give something, do something, flow from something of the real me.

And if I get it, it will be all in my head and it will improve the sound,

But carrying that much want could be a strategy of my ego to bury the zone,

Make the mental involvement, want fulfillment,

But I still want none the less.

This is again a perfect scenario of strong opposing consortium members.

The justification, the feeling of it sitting there on my floor,

Except then it will feel like a going back to the zone after much distraction,

Rather than taking the win first; the zone in play and practice.

I ‘am’ in the grip, between opposing forces, there is me.

Since I can buy the son’ma bitch within a half hour,

I think it is worth placing this opposition over the coals,

Over the zone where I am, truth is permeating, I already feel good, flow is happening.

I always forget to think about the amp.

So now I can think about this as having two entirely exclusive hobbies,

Collecting sought after things others value that can provide some enjoyment,

Some sharing with others about ‘it’ and sense of common ideals,

Turn it on and feel like whatever I hear is what real sound is, the real McCoy.

And that the authenticity may guide my playing is a hope,

It may surely be a real thread,

But I must be discerning,

many fish in the deep also cast similarly glowing lures.

That space during calm focus is fragile, new. the sense of flow, wholeness there,

The self here not established that it carries on between being here.

satisfaction, growing conditions, collecting, relying on hope of the next new,

the long scar deep neural pathways resembling highways’ long established.

So I carry on, the practice and the outer tension growing,

And now I am stuck, I have allowed the concern equal time

Both over the zone and as escape shopping online researching ‘things’

My love Meadow asks me to go for a swim together,

It is only a hundred feet away,

It has been a while since I swam due to pandemic but it is open,

It has been a while since I jumped in leaving behind the guy

Leaving concerns to float with me while I focus on supplying air to

The routine that always saves me, moving, breathing.

There is discomfort jumping in, and it is cold outside.

I am told the water temperature is warmer this year,

The community asked to raise the water temperature,

I am at a crossroads. I have no reason not to go, but if I go,

It means dropping what I have made into a hard knot in my head and emotions,

To simply drop it, I want to cry.

And also, what is wrong with clearing that up first, or just making a few moves,

Then coming back.

But I am aware I am reinforcing the position of those stuck feelings,

They threaten to be incorporated into my identity,

The satisfaction of the wants, the change in any circumstance first,

This is a lie I know. I am a self observing mind, and ego.

I say what is not supporting pride, or my glory, or emotional outcome,

And no one can fix it so there is no one to reach to or blame.

Will I go swim?

I am lying in bed after a nap, comfortable, off balance.

The stroke of luck is that I have identification with this activity of swimming,

If not, this is a joke, nothing but, a puff of a giggle, for real.

But I remember, I allow the memory,

I allow the pride of the highway,

Now is the time to stop while remaining in contact.

Aided by not wanting to miss my guidance, as it comes in this form,

Enjoying the thought that I am making up this story of guidance,

But the going there to do that will feel good,

The other thing can be looked at or completed just as an experiment, just buy it and see,

So why this ‘condition’ that I cannot swim now, and to think about that now,

Because it messes with identification. And it makes no sense when looked at,

Something is invested in satisfying a condition to attain happiness,

Someone representing good, and reinforced by my sense of right is saying swim,

Plus in absolute trust, there is only good in the intent to invite,

Plus together time.

But he emotion is stronger than just choosing.

I just move, one step, get bag, get shampoo,

Damn, cause for anger, I’m trying to go despite my conditioning

But I have to locate such and such item,

But again luckily, and why important to invest in loved activities,

Because I have done this hundreds of times, it is obvious what is needed,

I am not Hercules, I not about to invent a new activity and outfit it,

I want to zombie like get what I need while letting my become fluid,

While observing distaste,

At the same time as an inner smirk of the drama I am creating inside,

And at the same time disgusted with that smirk also because this is real for me.

I jump in and move, I repeat lengths, dolphins, backstroke,

Wise enough to go easy when my energy starts to move,

I want to come back and

I don’t want a precedent of performance, but repetition is acceptable,

Consistency does more.

It builds bridges over troubling highways.

Each painting is an individual personal success over other choices,

It is an invitation back, a visual proof of strength,

Of a real sense within as coals to rake my future over,

To witness entering a collectively shared space,

Versus rising and falling, tumbling, crumbling between social images and roles.

Here is this space I share this from,

Should I question that I wanted it to be a few paragraphs,

It is a thread, I followed, and it-me, I am doing this thing.

When it is enough, it is enough. My mind’s job is to discern,

I am tools, my body and skills trainable, by doing more

Energized by the space that animates my intention.