The thread about PeterT's recently deceased 'puter, and the subsequent discussion about waht to do with obsolete equipment got me thinking about my various musical instruments, and about one particular albatross that I carried around for way too long.

Manymany years ago I, like virtually every other teenager, decided I wanted to learn to play guitar. This was before I had discovered my interest in folk music, or my passion for celtic music in particular. I just had this vague, formless longing that would raise its head whenever I would listen to Steve Howe play the opening bars to Roundabout.

So, off to the music store we went, myself and my long suffering mother. She bought me a cheap student model acoustic, and arranged for some lessons. My "instructor" turned out to be a kid three years my junior. Now, I can't criticize his playing skills, but his teaching skills left much to be desired. So after a few weeks of stumbling around in the dark, I could play the opening bars of Yes' Roundabout and Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here, but I still had no idea how to play guitar. I just didn't grok the instrument. So into the closet it went, and there it stayed.

Time wore on, as it has a way of doing. I moved away from home, went off to college, graduated, took a job, moved, changed jobs, moved again. Like little BeauD Peep's sheep, everywhere I went, that old guitar was sure to follow. I would get it out from time to time, convinced that this time would be the charm. But, somehow that guitar hero that lay buried within my psyche never emerged.

So it went until the waters of time washed me ashore in 1994. Over the years, I had discovered I had some skill with Irish flute, tin whistle, didjeridu, bones, bodhran. But still the guitar eluded me. I remember, it was winter-- a time of hibernation, introspection, and slow transformation. I began meditating on the magic of artfully played backup guitar, and the mysteries of open tunings. "I can do that," I thought to myself. All of these years I had been trying to learn this arcane instrument, but I had been going about it the wrong way! It was so obvious to me, now that I had seen the light. Standard tuning was just not the right vehicle for my particular musical genius! Yeah, that's the ticket! I just needed to retune my instrument, and then the scales would fall from my eyes. I would become the Thief of DADGAD!

So out comes the old guitar, like Lazarus from the tomb. Yes, it was a little battered and scuffed, but I would breathe new life into it. Making myself comfortable, I set about painstakingly retuning it. Only to have one of the tuning pegs break off in my hand! In a funny way, I the scales did fall from my eyes. I had an epiphany...just not the one I was hoping for. It was obvious to me now that I was just not meant to play guitar. At least not this one. I realized that I had been toting this weight around for years in the futile hope that I would one day be able to play it; that I had enough musical skill already, that only wanted honing. I needed to focus on the cards I had in my hand, not the one card I didn't have.

I considered what to do with the guitar. I could fix it up and sell it, but it would cost more to fix than it was worth, and it wasn't really that good an instrument. I probably wouldn't be able to sell it. Being that it was winter, we were approaching 12th Night. An hour away in Lexington at the Lime Kiln Theatre they were going to have a bonfire for people who wanted to get rid of their old Christmas trees; trees which had been severed from their roots, and no longer had a real purpose to serve. The presents were opened, and the lights packed up and put back into storage for another year. Fragrant evergreens whose sap had dried up, consigned to the flames, converted to light and heat and returned to the Universe. Yes. I knew what I had to do.

So, a week later, I packed up the remains of the old guitar, and a few other pieces of detritus from my life that were weighing me down, and made a pilgrimage to Lexington, VA. When I arrived, the flames were already high and hungry. Guitar in hand, I stalked around the fire three times widdershins. By the time I stopped, I had attracted a small crowd of onlookers. The flames from the bonfire were topping out at 20 feet. The heat was unbearable. Twice I approached the fire, pretending to lightly toss in the guitar, but stopping short. Hear and there I heard people shouting, "Do it! Do it!" But I shook my head, and began to walk away. When I was 20 feet from the flames, I stopped, turned around and began to run back towards the fire. I spun around once, and flung the guitar into the air. It arced high, and seemed to pause for a second, hanging in the air as the hungry flames licked it, and then it disappeared from my sight. I turned around and headed back to my car feeling taller and lighter than I had in years....