My fingers have been callused for the past 7 years now. Sometimes they are green. Sometimes they bleed. Sometimes they smell like metal. When they are against the strings of my guitar though and I hear the harmonious sounds filled with reverb, delay, and chorus, I am in another dimension. The world pauses, all other distractions come to a cease, and my head gets clouded with the notes being played. Usually it’s one of John Mayer’s or Frank Sinatra’s songs that fill up the room and bring happiness and warmth to me. On the flip side, there are times where I play original music at venues and conferences. The overdrive and distortion on my electric guitar are turned on and I look up and see the crowd nodding their heads to the rhythm of the song. Sweat drips down my face and my fingers are numb, but I am cherishing every second of the moment. Then there is the rest of the band. From the beginning to the end, we are all in sync and creating art. All I have to do is touch the strings of my guitar, see the faces of the band and crowd, hear the music produced, smell the damp and musty scent of the room, and taste the sweat dripping down on my face to know that what I have here. . . is good.