Walk The Line - Whiskey Brown Leather Guitar Strap
Walk The Line - Whiskey Brown Leather Guitar Strap
Walk The Line - Whiskey Brown Leather Guitar Strap
Walk The Line - Whiskey Brown Leather Guitar Strap
Walk The Line - Whiskey Brown Leather Guitar Strap
Ryan Taylor - @ryantaylorguitar

Walk The Line - Whiskey Brown Leather Guitar Strap

Sale price$ 169.00
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Walk The Line

They talk about people who see the glass as half full or half empty. But then there are folks like me — folks who can just never decide.

Uneasy souls, we keep staring at the damn glass like an abyss. I stare until my eyes hurt and neck aches, never sure, never satisfied. Out of frustration with knowing that glass can never be full, I’d rather empty it altogether and at least put the gnawing uncertainty to an end.

Stopped wondering why I’m that way a long time ago. If some people find peace easily in this life, well, I’m just not one of ‘em. In my corner, constant restlessness prevails. All the stuff that’s supposed to help, supposed to deliver that elusive satisfaction, doesn’t work for very long, if at all. You can seek relief with assorted thrills and escapes, whether sold on TV or on a dark street corner. You can self-medicate via substances, money, power, attention, possessions, conquests, and all the rest. But that dark cavern of emptiness always returns to collect, doesn’t it?

So I’m always wrestling with the light and darkness. When I’m in the light, the darkness calls to me like a temptress, and when I’m in the darkness, well, the light becomes so hard to find. Guess when you’re doing wrong, there is no knowing better.

And yet sometimes, when least expected, the beauty of it all comes back out of nowhere, penetrating even the deepest darkness like a flashbulb. It grabs me by the heart and steadies my trembling hands. For a few fleeting, but exhilarating moments I feel ashamed — ashamed for being such a wretch, a sinner, an ingrate. At those redemptive, humbling times, the glory is nearly more than I can bear. I find myself playing my guitar with such joy that the dirt falls from my fingers on its own.

Yes, there’s hope down there in the depths. Again and again, I’ve found it. Even after I’d stopped bothering to look.

The struggle keeps me honest, I suppose. Or close enough. I certainly don’t have a monopoly on pain, heartache, and trauma. I don’t even claim that the burdens of my load weigh heavier than anyone else’s. There’s no way of knowing. I pray for everyone these days. Having survived this long, all I know for sure is that, whatever the challenge or flaw or loss or confusion, the only way through is forward.

So I walk the line.