While my guitar gently weeps

It weeps for joy. For the first time in eight months, I picked it up, cradled it under my arm and heard the sweet sound of it being tuned. It's really amazing how therapeutic it can be.
Tuning is akin to aligning the pieces of the universe. If you've ever seen Bobby McFerrin "play" an audience or if you've ever felt a piece of music that seems to resonate with you, you have a pretty good idea of what I'm talking about. There are certain tones and combinations of tones that are reflected in the human psyche and/or soul. We can tell when they are out of focus, out of tune. And it jars us.
When we return them to their comfortable state, the harmonic resonance sounds perfect. It's literally music to our ears. Music can soothe the savage beast.
And I have felt like a savage beast for the past few months. My darker instincts have risen to the surface, clouding my mind and locking my creativity away. My social presence has been limited, both online and off as I've struggled with this. Monday nights with the MCS have been an outlet, but not enough of one. The single Thursday night that I've sung with Jess helped immeasurably, but only for the moment.
The guitar, though, is a mistress that is always there.