I’ve decided that whoever invented the front porch probably had life figured out better than the rest of us.

Think about it.

A porch doesn’t really do anything.

It doesn’t take you anywhere. It doesn’t make you money. It doesn’t send you notifications. It doesn’t ask for a password, install an update or tell you that you’ve forgotten to accept the new terms and conditions.

It just sits there.

And maybe that’s the whole point.

Give me a porch, an acoustic guitar and a Texas sunset, and I can probably solve most of the world’s problems.

Well, maybe not solve them.

But after about three songs, I probably won’t care quite as much about them.

We’ve Gotten Pretty Good at Being Busy

Seems like everybody is busy these days.

We hurry from one thing to another, carrying around little computers in our pockets that make sure we’re never more than three seconds away from somebody wanting something from us.

Emails.

Text messages.

Facebook.

TikTok.

YouTube.

News.

Weather.

Some fella on the internet trying to convince you that you desperately need a new pocketknife that has 47 attachments and can apparently rebuild a transmission.

There’s always something competing for our attention.

And if you aren’t careful, you can spend an entire day doing a hundred different things without actually enjoying any of them.

I’ve been guilty of that plenty of times.

That’s one reason I’ve learned to appreciate the simple things a whole lot more as I’ve gotten older.

A Guitar Has a Way of Slowing Things Down

There’s something about picking up an acoustic guitar that changes the speed of the world.

You sit down.

You tune it up.

You play a chord.

Then another.

Pretty soon you’re playing an old country song you’ve played a hundred times before.

Maybe it’s Willie.

Maybe it’s Waylon.

Maybe it’s Merle, Kris, Johnny or George Strait.

Or maybe it’s something of your own that you’re still trying to figure out.

Either way, for a little while, everything else gets quiet.

That’s one of the things I love most about playing guitar.

I’m still learning. I always will be.

There are chords I don’t know, scales I’m still working on and probably several thousand things some 14-year-old kid on YouTube can do on a guitar that I couldn’t accomplish with six months of practice and professional supervision.

That’s alright.

I’m not racing him.

I’m just playing.

It took me a long time to understand the difference.

Then God Turns on the Evening Show

Now add a sunset.

A good Texas sunset doesn’t need much help.

The sky starts turning orange and gold. The temperature drops just enough to remind you that the day is winding down. Birds start settling in. Somewhere off in the distance, somebody’s dog is barking at something that probably isn’t there.

And for a few minutes, the whole world looks pretty darn good.

No filter required.

I’ve seen plenty of beautiful places in my life, but there’s still something about watching the sun drop behind a Texas horizon that gets me every time.

Maybe it’s because you can’t hurry it.

You can’t rewind it.

You can’t save it for tomorrow.

You just have to sit there and watch.

And if you’ve got a guitar in your hands while you’re doing it, even better.

Maybe Peace Isn’t That Complicated

We spend a lot of time looking for peace.

We think we’ll find it when we finish the next project.

When we make a little more money.

When we finally get everything organized.

When the house is finished.

When the bills are paid.

When the website is done.

I’ve recently learned that last one may actually be impossible.

There’s always another button that needs moving three pixels to the left.

But maybe peace isn’t waiting for us at the end of some giant list.

Maybe it shows up in little pieces.

A quiet evening.

A comfortable chair.

A familiar song.

Someone you love sitting nearby.

A dog lying at your feet.

A cup of coffee in the morning or something cold in your hand when the day’s work is done.

And a sunset that doesn’t care whether you accomplished everything you planned to accomplish that day.

That’s Enough for Me

The older I get, the less impressed I am by complicated things.

I like simple songs.

Simple conversations.

Good people.

Old guitars.

Dirt roads.

Porches.

Sunsets.

Things that don’t need much explaining.

Maybe that’s why country music has always felt like home to me.

At its best, country music takes ordinary things and reminds us that they weren’t all that ordinary to begin with.

A hometown.

An old truck.

A first love.

A last goodbye.

A dirt road.

A front porch.

A guitar.

That’s where the stories are.

So the next time life gets a little too loud, I think I’ll grab my guitar and find myself a porch.

I’ll sit down, play a few cowboy chords and watch the sun disappear behind the horizon.

The problems will probably still be there tomorrow.

That’s fine.

They know where to find me.

Tonight, I’ve already got plans.

There’s peace in a porch, a guitar, and a sunset.

And sometimes, that’s about all a country boy needs. 🤠🎸🌅