Little waves ran over the sandy archipelago, while I coyly dug my feet into the airy sand.  The robust and haunted Atlantic winds and waves scared me. Thinking the of the Blue Guitar, I saw this mega yacht parked ahead that happened to be parked in Nantucket harbor. 

I said, what is a blue guitar? A seasonal Nantucket man let me know that it was the one and only Eric Clapton’s boat. The Blue Guitar was a platinum album from Eric Clapton, who gets creative inspiration from being out at sea.

unrecognizable musician singing and playing guitar during concert
Photo by Kübra Arslaner on


  • Eric Clapton married George Harrison’s former wife Patti and his hit song Layla was his code name for her, the ultimate dedication to Patti.
  • In 1977, Eric Clapton had three hits on his hands including Cocaine, Lay Down Sally, and Wonderful Tonight.
  • Eric Clapton is 77 years old and is 5 feet 10 inches high.
  • Eric Clapton is an alcoholic and addict with known drugs as cocaine and heroin, with claims he has unhealthy obsessions of the mind.
  • Blind Faith and Cream are two bands Eric Clapton helped create.
  • Eric Clapton has an Instagram handle @ericclapton.
  • Eric Clapton’s all-time favorite guitarists include Prince, John Mayer, Muddy Waters, Jimi Hendrix, Albert Lee and Duane Allman.
  • Spotify is a good way to catch Eric Clapton’s full repertoire.
  • Eric Clapton also has his videos on his YouTube channel.
  • Eric Clapton wrote the most singles discography’s in the 1960’s and 1970’s, and also did 30 promotional songs though out his lengthy career.
  • Eric Clapton has a greatest hits album that you can listen on YouTube here.

Then I knew, it was the saddest guitar. Eric Clapton lost his 4-year old son tragically. His depth of despair is only known by those that have experienced this type of loss. And as we all can imagine, it is an unbearable, inconsolable loss that never just goes away. My sympathies go to those that have lost loved ones. 5 of my friends passed away in the last decade and it has been hard for me to accept the fact that I couldn’t save them. I wanted to save them. I couldn’t save them. This is the whiplash of the affliction of addiction.

musicians playing under a tree
Photo by Mehmet Turgut Kirkgoz on

My own depression comes and goes. The deepest pit of sadness blew from my rib cage and the gut pull of sadness is leaving me and craving that proverbial blank slate of emptiness. It can’t, it’s not ready to go. It expands and then releases as I still breathe. Mourning the fray, I feel it in my throat. I feel it on my teeth. And then it slowly glides meandering like a pacing elder. Looking at me and looking down at the ground, Eric Claptons song repeat and continue the slow pace of concern. The familiar hollow feeling of losing everything surrounds and engulfs me. I am drowning in the proverbial sea of sadness. The shallow breathing ensues and I sit solemnly still. The wheels of feelings spin relentlessly and I have no place to go but here. I light my relaxing seas candle and the flame reminds me that I am here now.

Mix tapes from afar play in my mind and effortlessly haunt me. I sway out the door and fly back to me. And then, I, get home again. I jump into my puddle pity party with ease and then I try and float in it. I am looking up into the never-ending nothing. I stand at the shore hunched as the murky mud plops into the sand. Paralyzed by the depth of despair, I sit and stare.

blue and white abstract painting
Photo by Ricardo Esquivel on

I glare down at my body and say what is going on? This is my time to rest. The insidious fog slowly looms over the ocean, silently tip toeing towards the gloomy shore. There’s nothing I can do. It lurks over the sea line and the marine layer undoubtedly heads our way.

Sparse are the rays of sun.  Due east, the west is doomed. The obsession of depression resides. I am listening in the abyss. And listening means listening. And listening means listening to myself. And listening means listening to others. I listen hear the voice of acceptance and serenity. I have the choice and need to let go. I’ve lost control. I can’t avoid it. I can’t fix it. The unwelcome guests of disillusionment and disbelief remain.

The Blue Guitar is never mine and is always Eric’s his cross to bear. Music.

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