The Commitments We Make

I went to school in England for a year when I was in University.

In retrospect, I could have saved my parents a ton of money if I’d just drank beer for four years at one of the many fine Washington State schools.

Nonetheless, one silly night out in London, with people whose names I can’t recall, I met a fella sitting on the ground in a Tube station, busking badly on a guitar he clearly could not play and perhaps was not 100% his.

He seemed like he could use some money and I wanted to learn to play the guitar. So I asked him if he might sell it and what for.

£20.

I whipped a twenty out of my bag and we made a deal. I spent the rest of that semester annoying my roommate and her boyfriend with janky chords and bad rhythm.

That was 1992. And I still cannot play the guitar. Why?

Commitment.

I just didn’t do it. I kept drinking beer and goofing around, because in the short-term that was easier.

Short term discipline vs. long term regret.

We all choose. Every day.

Can you imagine how good I’d be today, if I’d knuckled down and learned to play 30 years ago with my malleable brain and freedom from adult responsibility?

There are lots of reasons we humans fail to make good on our plans, and none of them are very good. Mostly they’re just excuses, so we can regret things over decades rather than missing happy hour tonight.

Also, we make up supremely lame stories about how “we’ve always wanted to play guitar,” but why we can’t because short fingers, no rhythm, no time blah blah blah.

Sure, but don’t forget, you’re the author of your book, and you can make up whatever story you want.

How’s it turning out?

Leopards don’t change their spots.

Pictured is my friend Toby, sitting with my husband Sam, who also cannot play the guitar. Toby, however, grew up playing with other musical folks and he’s really good.

He played at a few parties in Wyoming this summer.

That’s the dream right? Campfires. People singing along.

Rather than just sigh at how good Toby is or believing I will somehow become relentlessly committed to a non-urgent project that I’ve neglected for 30 years, I am doing something differently.

I told Toby by next summer, when we are all back in Wyoming, I would play sufficiently well to play some simple tunes with him. Then we could play together some, which will help me get better.

I made a commitment to Toby that requires me to commit to myself.

Like an insurance policy. But I still have to do the work.

Also, why is it even ok to blow off commitments we make to ourselves?

It’s not.

If I had a friend who blew me off like I blow off guitar practice, I would not be friends with her.

The cost of blowing people off is they don’t trust you. Everybody knows that.

Blowing off the commitments I make to myself teaches me not to trust me.

And I need to be able to trust me. My word. So I’m backing into my shopworn tendencies and inviting myself to try another way.

So if you know a good guitar teacher in Pensacola, who specializes in stubborn, middle-aged ladies, LMK.