Writing and Multiple Sclerosis 6: Good Bad Guitar

Last night, something happened that made my heart skip.

Goals: The above song is what I’m shooting for.

[Previously]

Last time, I brought up my New Year’s resolution to play guitar at least an hour a day, no matter how bad it sounds and feels. At the beginning of the hour, I can’t form even simple chords very well, but by pushing through all that unpleasantness, I’ve discovered that after 30 minutes, I can make the chords sound ok.

The beginning:

30 minutes later:

So that was a positive development and one that I found not only interesting but somewhat astounding. But last night, something happened that made my heart skip. I am unreasonably happy about this. Guitar players might think, What’s the big deal? And the part of me that was once a pretty good guitar player thinks that, too, but the part of me that was convinced guitar playing was lost to me forever is thrilled by this small, small thing.

I’ve been working on a few songs, Big Thief’s “Dried Roses” in particular. It’s simple and lovely and speaks to me and to my new life of loss and longing. Last time, I included my rudimentary attempt at it. Last night was the first time I could add the little flourish leading up to the part where you sing the title at the end of each verse. That flourish is what’s called a dyad, a two-string movable chord that fills in between the chord you just played and the next one. For this, I play an E minor chord, then in quick succession use my index and middle finger on the B and G strings on the first and second frets, sliding up to the third and fourth frets, then back down before quickly moving to the G chord. My fingers just didn’t have the accuracy, coordination, and speed to pull this off. Until last night:

The reason this small thing makes me almost deliriously happy is because being able to pull off dyads and triads will make it possible to fill out songs more. It will take my playing to a higher level eventually, which it already has with “Dried Roses.”

Now that this is happening, I plan to experiment with partial capos, sometimes paired with a full capo, which will do some of the grunt work and free up my good fingers to do more things. With that and with open tunings, maybe I will develop a new way of playing that will be fulfilling again.

MS is terrible, even for one of the lucky ones like me. Losing ability is horrifying enough for people in their 90s, but with this disease, many much younger people have to witness their bodies failing them when they should be in their prime. My quip about this is, “I’ve been in my 90s since I was in my 20s.” My approach to life is influenced by my condition. When perfection is unattainable, there is a kind of freedom in that. So I focus on improvements, no matter how small. Almost anything can be improved at least a little.

Another surprise is how good it feels to be singing again. I never thought of myself as a singer, even when I was one. I was a guitar player who played songs that needed to be sung. Singing is such good medicine. Somehow, I forgot.

Speaking of small improvements, I’m trying new things with my poor left leg, too. If I can just get a little more out of it, that would actually be huge.

Maybe someday soon, I’ll find myself rocking out to Jonathan Richman’s “I Wanna Sleep in Your Arms.”