Let the guitar string ring. Let it ring in harmony with the one above it and the one below it. A cheerful sound fills the air, three strings in unison, playing different parts to the same full, textured sound. Somehow the sound waves waft through the air, mingling with the hiss of the sea and the cries of the seagulls and the salt in the air and the smooth look of the pebbles. Wrap yourself a bit warmer and feel the mild breeze bringing you the water and the air from a thousand miles away. Let the guitar string ring.

Let it ring while the clouds burst open, while the rays of light become visible against the gray sky, making the ocean gleam. Let it ring while the light fades, while the world becomes darker, while the lighthouse in the distance once again becomes a beacon for lost seamen and hikers alike. Let it ring until the guitar goes out of tune. The clammy cold makes the vibrating wood shift and ache; the strings moan, unwind and lose their serene harmony. One string, so lonely before, has lost touch with the other strings, it swings in atonal dissonance, it is no longer part of the unison. The string below it becomes higher and higher, as if it were bouncing off the metal wire above it, to which it was once such a perfect fit. The lower string is not bothered by this. It winds up and up and does not look back.

The lonely guitar string is lost, it falls, it fails, it does not resound in harmony. It rings meekly, having lost everything that made its sound complete. Someday, it will have to become strong, mature to a beautiful sound all by itself. It can’t be any other string.

It needs to find its frequency again.

I need to find my frequency again.

And so I sit by the sea, tuning my guitar, and I think of the future.