New Guitar

I bought a new guitar.

I rarely get to say that.

Southpaws like me tend to find a good one and hold on to it.
They marry their guitars.
Righties, having many more opportunities, tend towards profligacy.

This one is red. It is heavy. The make and model don't matter.
It's new, but it comes with history, with scars, with distinction.
I like that.

It feels different. It makes me feel different.
It touches my chest at different points; it weighs on my shoulder strangely.
It resonates.
It leads my hands to locations they would not normally go on my other guitar.
I play differently. I sound different even if I try to play the same.

The fact that it is a new guitar does not make me a better guitarist.
But the fact that I play it with a new mind does.
These new locations, these new sensations, these new tactile maps of music, become a part of me.
I can apply them to any other guitar.
This specific guitar, being new, has taught me a new way to play all guitars.

The more music we make, the more musical we become.
Every new experience enriches us.
We need never repeat ourselves, even if we play the same songs every night.
As long as we have grown, the music grows.
As long as we share who we are today, the music is born anew each time we play it.

I think it's the same with people.
Hold someone. Feel them resonate against your chest.
Go where they take you.
Make a map of their nervous system.
Let their music become your music.

Let every new person be your teacher.
Let yourself always be new.