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Been through this same thing so MANY times at Rest Homes. You made a connection, and that connection may have lingered longer than you know. But as you said, there's no way to know. I played/sung once for a bedridden lady as I know her grown children. Pulled chair up close to her bed, she was a tiny lady curled up in the bed, she stared deeply into my eyes for the thirty minutes. When I was done, she rolled over and faced the wall and never said one single word nor made any facial expressions, just that deep look into my eyes. So what do you do? Keep on keeping on.

Awesome! Yep, right on. I started late at 48 years old (currently 61), but still playing,enjoying and achieving more than ever dreamed: playing/singing in rest homes for over ten years now, have played/sung in church (inactive right now), for family, neighbor's, and grandchildren and recently started a band (gospel/folk/50's). Although I'll never be at the professional level, I can still "be" . . . .

An hour along, my monthly acoustic jam had lost its vibe. Two guys were playing their guitars so timidly I could scarcely hear them. The other was a talented newcomer, but curiously nervous and hyper. No one else knew his songs, so as he played them, the rest of us gradually dropped out, leaving him and the bass player to finish his tunes. We meet in a tiny art gallery that occasionally draws a visitor or two while we play. I was heaving a sigh when two young women entered, pushed in their wheelchairs by their attendants. May we listen, they asked. Of course, we said, as we welcomed them. The attendants parked their charges next to me and pulled up seats. The women in the wheelchairs were severely disabled. I smiled at them as my heart ached. They couldn't smile back, but I sensed that they understood their surroundings. One extended her arm, reaching for the bass player, trying to touch the source of the music. I turned my chair to face them. It was my turn to pass out a song. As usual, I was overstocked with ballads. I need something upbeat -- okay, this will do, I thought: Bad, Bad Leroy Brown. Let's start a fight, I cheerfully announced, and kicked it off. I nodded to my jam mates and played for the new arrivals. What they heard or felt, I had no way of knowing, but the song got through. I could tell; don't ask me how. They lingered for another couple of songs, then their escorts said goodbye and wheeled them out. I fumbled with the music on my stand. For a few brief minutes, these young women, mute and immobile, lit up the room. Or so it seemed, from my chair.

Now the mountain ahead reveals its full, awesome height. Seven years -- 4,151 hours of hiking, as it were -- have put scarcely any distance between me and base camp. I have yet to even set foot on the Khumbu icefall. No, I'm not climbing with oxygen bottles, crampons, and a ladder on my back. I'm practicing guitar. I need not fear -- like anyone who literally approaches Sagarmatha -- being crushed by a block of ice the size of a ten story office building. My guitar mountain is motor skills and music theory, not marble and limestone. Ice won't crush me. But expectations, comparisons, or discouragement just might, as the past year has reminded me. And with this year came a new and disturbing awareness of my age -- so gradually, but oh, so insidiously making its presence felt, as if the grade is steepening. It might take me another seven years to finish the course. Maybe seventeen. Maybe I will never summit my guitar mountain. Yet I'm still climbing, through the disappointments, the mild embarrassments, the setbacks. I rest. I recalibrate. Perhaps my energy and focus aren't quite what they used to be. But I can remind myself that I'm now equipped with three real supports that I didn't have when I originally set out. There’s knowing that I've met every challenge presented so far. Maybe it took five times longer than I expected, but I got there. What’s more, small miracles keep appearing. Help has always materialized when I needed it, sometimes in surprising forms. Best of all, I now find myself surrounded by fellow climbers, beginners and experts, who constantly remind me of the joy to be found on our musical path. They are my sherpas. We have each other's backs. I will never see the Himalaya from Sagarmatha’s summit at 29,000 feet. The mountain gods bestow that privilege upon only a handful of worthy mortals. But I have seen the Himalaya while perched a modest 5,000 feet in the Kathmandu valley: from the magnificent tip of sacred Machapuchare in the west over to the great goddess of the heavens herself. Even from the lowlands, it was breathtaking — a soul-stirring vista worth every step of the trip. So I climb.

Nice Neil! You have an accurate note replication here.Comping spot on. Nice recording. Thanks for the charts.

Here are the Guitar Pro 7 files for Session 3. I put the note names as lyrics so they're easy to turn off. Session 3 - 1 - Eighth Note Exercises.gp Session 3 - 2 - Third String Exercises.gp Session 3 - 3 - Fourth String Exercises.gp Session 3 - 4 - Yankee Doodle.gp Session 3 - 5 - When The Saints Go Marching In.gp Session 3 - 6 - Love Me Tender.gp Session 3 Bonus - 1 - Third String Exercises.gp Session 3 Bonus - 2 - Fourth String Exercises.gp Session 3 Bonus - 3 - Ties Dots and Rests Exercises.gp Session 3 Bonus - Amazing Grace.gp Session 3 Bonus - We Wish You A Merry Christmas.gp

Christopher, Great question. The answer is, as someone said, yes, and no. When you are just starting an unfamiliar task, new chord or finger combination, then look when you need to. You need to have the visual reference while your fingers are trying to figure out where to go. Especially if you are working on a new skill - and the fingers are still finding their way - then look as you need to. Don't feel bad about it. Look until your fingers can find their own way to the places they need to go. BUT, yes... you do want to eventually wean yourself off of this. Where you're wanting to go is a place where the fingers can go where they need to go without the constant visual reminder. It's easy to fall into an unhelpful routine of ALWAYS looking at your hands, then back at the music, then your picking hand, then the music, then the fretting hand and so on. This will eventually slow your progress down (plus give you a neck ache!) So, when you are first learning a new chord or finger pattern then look at your hands. Look as much as you need to to get your fingers familiar with their new challenges. But, once your fingers know where they need to go, then begin trying to keep your eye on the music and let your fingers find their own way. You'll find they generally will do pretty well in finding where they need to go without you having to guide them by looking. Sure... you might miss a note here and there but don't worry about that. Your fingers will find where to go. Glancing at your fretting hand is always something you will need to do from time to time, especially if there is a big jump on the neck that you need to make. But, in general, once you've worked out where your fingers need to go then try to keep your eyes on the music and let your fingers feel where they need to go. Hope this helps! - Steve

Excellent, excellent Diane, your chosen words have expressed the feelings of most of the guitar world. Well written. I can associate with what you are saying and as you say, " a soul-stirring vista worth every step of the trip ". 100% bang on, thank you. Henk