Dusty

That was the only way you could describe my guitar as I picked it up after a week or so in the corner a few days ago.

At first I didn't bother cleaning it, after all, whats a little dust to a real man? I found out that it meant the real man's fingers got dirty and the real man's thoughts went a little like this, "Walau, so dirty." So yeah the music stopped and the cloth came out and let the wiping begin. After that, the real man felt that the absence of dirt equals presence of comfortable mind and the guitar playing, and the whole night went well.

But here's the thing. Whether or not the real man as described above was manly for cleaning the guitar, or unmanly for not leaving the dirt as it is, is another debate altogether which can be discussed on www.doesdirtmakethaman.gg.com.au. What matters is that we all gather dust in our lives if we remain stagnant and unmoving, untouched and unchanging.


"A rolling stone gathers no moss." -  Publius Syrus said, and he meant this - People who are always moving, with no roots in one place, avoid responsibilities and cares.


But I challenge that statement, for even a rooted tree, still has to grow upwards. In my life, and I believe in many of our lives at this moment, we are all looking to be rooted, but once we are rooted, do we sit back and remain content? 


I hope that I do not become like a dusty old guitar, whom although managed to make it out of the factory as a guitar, is content to sit there and gather dust once it has become a guitar. I want to be the guitar that is picked up and played and retuned and restringed and polished and each time I do so I desire even more all over again. I want to be rid of dust or dirt or moss, for if I am to be useful, let me be constantly reused again and again.






I think its time for me to pick up that guitar again