My Gap Year

My guitar case won’t stop staring at me.  It’s got those eyes that follow you no matter which way you walk.

I’ve been playing guitar for close to 20 years, and, at home, I have a guitar stand where I keep my favorite guitars at the ready like a row of hunting rifles.  Living alone, I have no concern about picking up one of my guitars and playing to amuse myself at virtually any time of day or night.  I love guitars, and I’m the living embodiment of that old joke – “How many guitars does a guitar player need?  One more.”

Because I couldn’t imagine being away from a guitar for a whole year, I invested in a travel version that folds into something that looks like a skinny violin case.  It’s lightweight and doesn’t take up much room.  It’s too big to fit in my suitcase, so I wind up slinging it over my shoulder and transporting it as carry-on luggage.  It’s not the hugest hassle, but it’s not hassle-free.  Given all of that, you’d think I’d be playing all the time.  Instead, I’m dealing with my guitar’s relentless stare.

It’s a strange feeling to love something, yet treat it like it’s a burden.  I wish I could say that guitars and people aren’t the same to me, but I think I have spent my life struggling to reconcile love and burdens.  Burdens always triumph.

There’s something about the word “should” that bothers me.  Merriam-Webster defines “should” as a verb used to indicate “obligation, expectation, or probability.”  “Must” is defined as verb showing “necessity, duty, or a logical conclusion.”  Those two verbs shouldn’t be interchangeable, but it feels like they often are.

Staring at my guitar case, I think to myself that I “should” practice more.  I “should” take a half an hour to just sit down and keep the feel of the strings under my fingers.  My “should” isn’t confined to guitar practice; I “should” write more blog posts, I “should” go to that museum I only have passing interest in, I “should” try some weird food.

What’s become clear to me is that “should” is just a way of externalizing a judgment about a particular course of action.  “Should” do something relates to things I don’t want to do.  “Shouldn’t” do something relates to things I want to do.  Either way, there’s a judgment that’s associated with those qualifications, and it usually dumps a big heap of guilt on me.

I “should” practice guitar.  That means, if I don’t spend time practicing, I’m failing and I feel bad.  If I “shouldn’t” eat that last bite of a delicious pinxto in San Sebastian, I can be critical of myself when I go ahead and wolf it down.  If I “should” feel something – about someone, some place, some experience – but I don’t, what does it say about me?

I would say that virtually my entire adult life has been about that push-pull between should and shouldn’t.  There’s that question behind every decision I make. Is this something I should be doing?  That hesitancy to act erects a barrier between me and the actual experience.  There’s no doubt it’s a defense mechanism that separates me from my emotional response to a set of circumstances.  If I’m caught up thinking about how I “should” act in a given situation, it prevents me from actually having to confront the question of what it is I actually want.  I get a big dose of “should” and that takes me out of feeling something and into deciding how I’m expected to act or feel.  Now it’s no longer about the emotional impact of a situation – it’s about my evaluation of the spectrum of responses I might have and what the “right” way to proceed is. Regardless, that instantaneous intervention of judgment softens the emotional impact of any decision I make.

I have always used the “shoulds” in my life as the rudder that guides my little canoe down the river of life.  It gives me the opportunity to create a parallel life that becomes the repository for all of the “wants.”  “Shoulds” are for public consumption; “wants” are private.  Essentially, “should” is nothing but a “want” (or “don’t want”) swaddled in judgment.

I’m trying to be more honest with myself about what I actually want in life; that’s been an underlying premise of my gap year.  I have found myself wrestling with the “shoulds” over the last eight months and it really bothers me.  I remember before my retirement having a conversation with my therapist about what I would do with myself when I stopped working.  “What if I just want to sit around and watch Netflix?” I asked.  His response:  “So you watch Netflix.”  I was taken aback – wasn’t I supposed to have a passion or a purpose in life and engage every day?

I realized that removing the “should” allows me to honestly evaluate the “want.”  If I want to spend the evening in my hotel room watching Netflix, so what?  If I wind up schlepping my guitar around the world and don’t play it that often, who cares?  I don’t have anyone I need to answer to about my choices except myself.  I’ve always felt constrained by the criticism of others; I will do almost anything to avoid being judged unworthy.  Now I need to work on getting away from judging myself too harshly when I actually act upon an honest want.

I am committed to freeing myself from the shroud of “should.”  I think that is the only way to really find a path to happiness.  If I’m able to be genuine about my wants, my likes, my dislikes and everything in between, I can shed the constant judgment I subject myself to and simply accept that, as Popeye says, “I am what I am.”  Maybe then love won’t feel like such a burden – I’m free to make choices, even if they’re not what someone else thinks I “should” do.

So now I’m sitting in my hotel room in Warsaw trying to decide whether to practice my guitar.  Since I managed to overcome the “should” about finishing this blog post, I think I’ll give myself a break.  There’s lots of good stuff that’s come out on Netflix lately.