Yesterday, I sat with myself. Sat quiet. No guitar in hand. No stage. No crowd. Just me and that little voice that don’t ever lie.
I asked,
“Could I set this guitar down today and walk away from it?”
Could I lay it to rest?
Not outta spite. Not outta bitterness.
Just… finished.
Would I be done? Would I be at peace?
I ain't talkin’ about takin' a break.
I mean done-done—like walkin’ away from a lover you know you’ll never stop missin’.
And you know what came up from the gut?
Hell no.
I ain't ready.
I ain't give it all I got yet, and truth be told, it ain’t gave me all it got either.
Me and this music—we still got unfinished business.
Now let me tell you somethin’ strange. I was scrollin’ through TikTok the other day, just lettin’ the feed run wild. Musicians everywhere—some singin’ sweet, some shoutin’ loud, some just flexin’.
All kinds of folks doin’ their thing.
Made me wonder, why do I do this?
Why do I still tune up when ain’t nobody listenin’?
Why I still feel like I’m runnin’ late if I ain't touched six strings by sundown?
Is it pride?
Is it pleasure?
Is it purpose?
It damn sure ain’t always for the money—'cause Lord knows, the blues don’t pay like it ought to.
But maybe it pays in spirit.
Maybe it’s somethin’ deeper than just me out here strummin’.
Maybe it ain’t even me playin’.
Maybe it’s the God inside me, the essence, movin’ through me like a wind blowin’ through an empty bottle.
I just happen to be the bottle.
Sometimes I wonder if I’m just a channel—an antenna pickin’ up frequencies from way back, way deep, passed down through blood and bone and memory.
You ever felt that? Like you ain’t the one singin’—you just the one deliverin’?
Now here’s the hard truth:
A whole lotta folks I came up with? They done walked away.
Turned their back on music. Set the mic down. Sold their guitars. Closed that door.
Some did it for peace. Some did it from pain. Some just got tired of chasin’ a dream that don’t always love you back.
And I get it. I really do.
But me?
I can’t.
And I won’t.
Not because I think I’m special.
But because this music is the one damn thing that keeps me me.
It’s the only place I ain’t gotta lie, ain't gotta shrink, ain’t gotta wear no damn mask.
The blues is my truth-teller.
It calls me out.
It lifts me up.
It sits beside me when the world goes quiet and says,
“Play, boy. Speak it.”
So I gotta ask you somethin’.
Could you walk away from your music? From your blues?
Could you turn your back on that fire inside?
Or is it still callin’ you—late at night, early in the mornin’, deep in your chest where words don’t reach?
'Cause if it’s still hummin’…
You ain’t done yet.
And maybe, just maybe,
somebody out there still needs to hear your blues.
So what’s it gon’ be?
You still in this, or you layin’ it down?
Let me hear it.