Music still moves me

I let life get the best of me and I forget to relish in the beautiful pieces. Music is one of those pieces. I too often forget to let it in.

My city put on a festival this weekend, a festival of words and music. It featured writers and musicians from all over. I heard about it, but didn’t really think much about it. I assumed it was a ticketed event. I have been carefully budgeting, and I didn’t think there was enough cash to allow for concert tickets.

Some of the bigger events were ticketed, like The Avett Brothers. I saw several Facebook posts of people who were at the concert. I regretted not getting tickets for the event, or at the very least, standing outside the gate of the outdoor amphitheater to hear some of the music. I told myself that next time, I would consider spending the money.

The next day, Drew and I were having a relaxing Saturday at home. It was drizzly and bleary outside, so we were cuddled on the couch, lazily watching TV. I did another half hearted scroll through my Facebook feed and ran across a post from Seryn, my favorite band. They were playing a concert at 4:00 p.m. at the festival in my hometown. How had I missed this?

My favorite band was playing in my town at 4:00 p.m. It was 3:30. My first thought was of utter disappointment. I was going to miss my favorite band play. I assumed it was too late to go. Tickets were probably sold out. But then I remembered the regret I felt at not going to The Avett Brothers concert. Drew looked at me and said, “Go.”

So I did. I threw on a pair of flip flops and headed out in my yoga pants and t-shirt. I got there a few minutes after 4:00 and discovered that the concert was free. It had been moved inside because of the rain. I ran toward the venue and was happy to find that Seryn was still setting up. It was in a small room with florescent lights and about eight rows of chairs.

The show was completely unplugged, with only one microphone. They turned off the overhead lights, and there were no spotlights or stage lights. There was no stage. They played by the sunlight that streamed in through the window.

The last time I saw Seryn, it was on a big stage with fancy lights and a fancy sound system. They played and sang their hearts out. They put every ounce of passion they had into that show.

They did the same thing in that dimly lit room. They gave everything they had. It didn’t matter if there was 30 or 300 people there.

I was inspired, energized, encouraged. I can’t tell you how happy I am that music will still do that in my life. After being calloused and jaded for so long, it’s wonderful to feel my heart still soften at the strum of a guitar.