My Oldest Friend

It is night. I am little, maybe seven or eight. I am supposed to be in bed, asleep. But I am not asleep. I have my guitar tucked under the covers with me, ear pressed to the curved sides, listening and feeling the vibration as I softly strum the strings. My thumb is sore. It has a blister from strumming so much. But I don't care. I am mesmerized by this instrument. Captivated. I am in love.

I am my guitar. My guitar is me. I have been playing for fifty years. Without a guitar, who am I? My Soul speaks to the world through this instrument in ways my voice cannot. It is the way I express myself. It is how I connect to myself and to Spirit.

In 2010, I had a concert celebrating the release of my CD Turtle Dove. Lots of rehearsals, and it was a great show. Surrounded by my favorite musicians, it was probably the best time I have ever had on stage  After the show I couldn't play guitar without terrible pain.

I have arthritis in my basal thumb joints. It was so bad in my left hand that I had to have reconstructive surgery. It was nearly a year before I could play again. Last year I did two shows.

This past winter I realized that I had to make room in my life for my music and for performing. It is who I am. Barb Barton.  So I started booking gigs. I formed a band. I got excited.

We have been rehearsing for about three months now. I knew it was happening but I couldn't accept it.

Today I played a couple songs on my 1860's parlor guitar. Nothing fancy. Something is wrong. My hands. They aren't working right.

My right  basal joint is now as bad as the left was. I can't get through one song holding a pick because of the pain. I can't fingerpick the way I used to. My left hand is hurting, my left thumb is hurting. I must have the surgery on my right hand in the next year or so. I'll never play guitar the same way again once that happens. I don't know how to take this in. I do know it hurts me in a very deep place. I am not ready for this. I am not ready to leave the stage as a guitarist. But the time is coming. This I can no longer deny.

I remember those nights under the covers, holding my guitar so close to my heart, feeling the vibration of the woods enter the cells of my body and become part of me. My sweet sweet friend.

Boston - Another Tragedy

This morning I am sipping a hot cup of Peruvian coffee, listen to the Robins and the Cardinals singing their spring songs in the darkness of dawn. I had a great day yesterday. I accomplished an important goal at work which will protect the Water. I accomplished another goal of having an exclusive session on Wild Rice conservation at an important conference. I may get the OK to invite the incredible Winona LaDuke to speak at that conference (I am on the planning committee). I had a great rehearsal with my new band. I saw a crocus. And there were bees flying around my hives. Indeed it was a glorious day.

Then I heard about Boston.

This morning as I sit drinking my hot cup of coffee, my beagle curled up in his bed, three beautiful Spirits have left this world, including an eight year old boy. One hundred and forty people are hurting from injuries received from blasts planted by as yet unknown terrorists. The rest of us are hurting for them.

Sometimes I feel so bewildered by this world we are living in. And deeply saddened.

We are the only animal species on the planet that does this to our own. And we think we are the superior species. Really.

All I can do is pray for healing of the human heart. All I can do is reach out my hand to my fellow human beings and say I love you. I just don't know what is left to do.