Practice

Had a “muse” or whatever they call it. When you go off the deep end in some thought progression that goes from this to that, and then opens up a door to another this or that. Worthy enough to clog up cyberspace to pass on a thought.
 
Busted off another damn fingernail trying to go pickles on a guitar. Right hand screwed up. Left hand screwed up with blisters trying to get country twang as fluid as a steel guitar. Hard s**t to pull off in the real world with only so many fingers and a brain that can only react and process up to a limited capacity.  Listeners may kick back and say the sound is cool, but they don’t have a clue about what it took to make the sound cool.
 
Took a breath and thought of all the practice I’ve done over the years. Struggle sometimes even just to maintain some low level of competency. Lay down the axe or the keyboard for one day and you are rusted dead meat.
 
Then I thought of you guys. Your chops don’t come cheap and without sacrifice either. All the sweat and tears. Bob Seger’s Night Moves, “workin’ and practicin’ “.
 
Thought about athletes and what they got to do to stay in shape. Thought about the likes of engineering students who have to bend their brains.
 
Then thought back to musicians over the ages of our history. Forgotten guys and girls who bled their hearts and bodies to master an instrument and maybe make some statement or earn a living from their talent.
 
Then thought about the star fields beyond our grasp. How may countless musicians out there in their medium trying their best to stay credible past and present.
 
Throws some humility in me which is hard to do.
 
John