Summary

The author recounts the emotional journey of selling their cherished guitar, a symbol of unfulfilled musical aspirations, and coming to terms with letting go of a dream.

Abstract

The article titled "Mourning for a Dream Tree that Never Bore Fruit" is a reflective piece by the author who recently sold their Yamaha classic acoustic guitar. This guitar, made of rosewood with a solid spruce top, represented the author's dream of musical success, which was nurtured by positive feedback from audiences and comparisons to famous musicians like Joni Mitchell. Despite passing an SABC audition and forming a band, the author's musical career never took off due to a combination of personal setbacks, lack of dedication, and the Universe's perceived messages to pursue a different path. The onset of arthritis in the author's hands further signaled the need to let go of the dream. The decision to sell the guitar, which had become a neglected fixture in the author's home, was made with mixed emotions. However, the guitar found a new home with a friend, bringing the author a sense of peace and acceptance. The author emphasizes the importance of recognizing when to release unrealistic dreams, advocating for a realistic approach to personal goals and embracing new passions, such as writing on Medium.

Opinions

The author believes in the significance of listening to the Universe's signals to understand one's true path in life.
There is an acknowledgment of personal stubbornness and the difficulty in letting go of a long-held dream, despite contrary evidence from the environment.
The author reflects on the impact of unresolved emotional issues on physical health, suggesting a connection between emotional turmoil and the development of physical symptoms like arthritis.
The self-help community's advice to never give up on dreams is questioned, with the author suggesting that sometimes it is necessary and healthy to let go and change direction.
The author expresses a sense of contentment and pride in finding a new passion in writing, which suggests a belief in the ability to evolve and discover new interests and talents later in life.
The author values the concept of decluttering one's life, both physically and emotionally, to make room for growth and new opportunities.

Mourning for a Dream Tree that Never Bore Fruit

The tree was made of rosewood and a solid spruce top.

Last Wednesday I sold my guitar — a Yamaha classic acoustic.

Ouch! That really hurt!

There’s a big hole in my heart where my dream of “one day I’ll make it” dwelt.

A brief history

Where the encore I received performing at the kibbutz 40 years ago, gave me hope. The kibbutzniks told me afterwards I was tenfold better than the touring American folk singer who was the headline act.

Where, strumming and singing at the dock awaiting the ferry to take us across to Crete to visit Matala, someone said “The next Joni Mitchell.” (She was there the previous year.)

“But let’s not talk about fare-thee-wells now The night is a starry dome And they’re playin’ that scratchy rock-and-roll Beneath the Matala Moon” — from “Carey” by Joni Mitchell

Ha! In your dreams, girl!

Then there was the SABC audition I passed, singing the composition by Boz Scaggs “We’re All Alone” but the transcription album never materialized. When the guy came to meet with me to discuss repertoire, I was shaking like a leaf and screwed things up.

But I didn’t let go. I wrote poetry and songs — the melodies are great but the lyrics need a lot of work.

I’ve deleted them all off Medium, because as I hone my writing skills, I don’t want anyone to read them — what was I thinking? Though I left my sonnet preening itself in another publication — I’m proud of it.

(Poetry and word imagery are NOT my forte — yet. But I’m working on that.)

But as with any skill, it takes practice and dedication.

My friends liked my music, and I enjoyed playing for them. But I never applied myself. It was a mission to nowhere. That my first husband was tone deaf perhaps played a role in my lack of application.

Other disasters added to the mix. A demo recording but no follow up contract. (I still possess a copy on cassette tape!) The band I formed that dissolved three months later in acrimony and broken echo machine and tambourines.

But you don’t give up on your dreams — right?

Now the self-help community, bless you all (I’m a practicing member), tell you that. I’ve told people the same thing here on Medium.

In retrospect, it’s in-your-face obvious the Universe was sending me strong messages “this is not your path”.

But I refused to listen.

I’m stubborn as a bulldog and wouldn’t release my grip.

(I should stop preaching to others about letting go.)

Unresolved emotional issues manifest in physical symptoms

I’ve written about that too. And it’s true.

Although my genes give me a predisposition to arthritis, at last I accepted there was another important reason my hands developed arthritis. (It started with my thumbs but I could still play my guitar.)

But two years ago, as it invaded my fingers, I could no longer play without pain and discomfort and strings buzzing.

“Will you listen now?” The Universe pleaded with me to accept what I could not change.

I had no choice but to agree.

I then wrote the first draft of a book on depression. (The book is on hold for now as I want to broaden the parameters.)

Then, serendipity — I discovered Medium. Seven months on, it’s been, and still is, a wonder-filled experience and I’ve found a passion I can pursue.

Unclutter your home (and your psyche)

The applied principle is that if you haven’t used something for over a year, you don’t need it — get rid of it.

I mulled over selling my guitar for two years. A loyal friend standing neglected in the corner.

“You deserve to be played.” I said.

Within three days of deciding, she’s gone. No advertising, no haggling. The same day I took photos to post an ad on Gumtree, a friend who lives in the same rural area, came to visit. As he plays guitar, I asked him if he knew of anyone who….. blah, blah.

He bought it right away — cash on the nail. We went to his home for supper that night. He named her Cassandra (after me as my nickname is Cass) and played her for us.

(Anyone looking for a plumber, he’s your man.)

I awoke tearful the next morning eyeing the empty corner where she used to stand. But she’s gone to a good home. She’ll be loved and cherished.

I’m at peace. I’ve let go.

The moral of the story

I’ve battled to find a suitable quote on letting go of an unrealistic dream. They all tell me to never give up; that if I feel my unrealistic goals are unrealistic, I need a life coach who will motivate and inspire me.

Huh???

All that positive speak does not serve certain situations be they physical or emotional. It implies there’s something wrong with you if you refuse to climb that hill with a silly grin hanging off your face for the simple reason you can’t.

Sometimes we fail or fall — we’re allowed to. We’re human.

I can’t change my fingers but have changed direction. And I can still sing.

Yippee! I found the perfect quote!

“I’ve always said that people have unrealistic expectations.” — Bette Midler

I’m still mourning but I’m okay.

Thank you for reading and a special mention to Michelle who kicks my butt when I need it and welcomed me into her publication.