Kill the Buddha

A Lesson in Impermanence (or, A Really Shitty Night)

In June, I impulsively bought myself a 2022 Gibson ‘61 Standard SG. It was a great deal, still a pretty penny (by my humble standards anyway), but I figured, YOLO, seize the day, etc., and agreed to the easy terms of a payment plan and brought it home. As most guitarists know, there is usually a getting-acquainted period with new gear, a time when you’re feeling it out, working out the kinks, and figuring out if it’s a good fit. I brought it to the Dylan tribute I participated in on Friday 8/22 at the Charleston Pour House, and for the first time felt a total connection - it stayed in tune, felt right under the fingers, and did exactly what I wanted it to. I was elated to think I had a keeper on my hands. On my way to a gig yesterday, I was trading voice memos with a friend who also participated in the Dylan show, and they mentioned the SG, saying it sounded great, and I gushed about how happy I was with it, basking in the satisfaction of knowing that I had managed to capture that most elusive of beasts: a really great guitar.

Less than an hour later, it lay face down on the stage, decapitated, a tangle of strings and splinters, obviously completely unplayable, possibly irreparable. It had fallen from the wall hanger from which I have hung instruments a hundred times before and face-planted on the rug with a dramatic crash, leaving me with no guitar (I hadn’t brought a backup) and a feeling very close to nausea. I laughed out loud - what else could I do? - and set about the work of finding a replacement and getting on with the show.

According to tradition, ninth-century Chinese Buddhist monk Linji Yixuan famously told his disciples, “If you meet the Buddha on the road, kill him.” To Chris Pacheco, associate editor at www.lionsroar.com, this means “killing our conceptualizations, killing the belief that we understand it all. It’s being courageously present, whatever that means, with things just as they are. When we kill the Buddha, we can transcend.”

In Thoughts Without a Thinker: Psychotherapy from a Buddhist Perspective, Mark Epstein quotes Thai meditation master Achaan Chaa:

You see this goblet? For me this glass is already broken. I enjoy it; I drink out of it. It holds my water admirably, sometimes even reflecting the sun in beautiful patterns. If I should tap it, it has a lovely ring to it. But when I put this glass on the shelf and the wind knocks it over or my elbow brushes it off the table and it falls to the ground and shatters, I say, ‘Of course.’ When I understand that the glass is already broken, every moment with it is precious.

I read these words and recognize their truth; I know that ultimately a guitar is just wood and wires; I know that it can likely be repaired (although at what cost remains to be seen); and to my surprise, the replacement that my good friend and fellow traveler Alan Schmitt provided turned out to be a real peach - it sounded great, even after sitting in a closet for months, and the performance we turned in yesterday was well-received, even inspired. I know that in the grand scheme of things, it’s not even worth mentioning.

But when I look at its remains in its case, I still mourn its loss. I still cling to its memory. I am attached. I am caught. Clearly, Maya still has me in her clutches - clearly, I have a long way to go before I wake up.

If you’d like to catch me dreaming out loud this week, here’s where you can find me:

Tuesday 8/26 PROHIBITION 8:30 - 11:30

Wednesday 8/27 THE DINGHY 7:00 - 10:00

Thursday 8/28 THE WASHOUT 7:00 - 10:00

Friday 8/29 BOUNTY BAR 9ish - 12ish

Sunday 8/31 PAGE’S OKRA GRILL NEXTON 11:00 - 2:00