Tonight Beth & I went to Saltair to see Iron & Wine. Sam Beam was the first concert I saw in college, and of course (of course!) my English major brain, ever-ready to make connections and craft storylines, saw something entirely fiitting in the fact that he'll be my last college concert before the mission. As for the show, well, that man has a lot of hair. And not just the beard. His lovely locks, blonde and curling, graced his shoulders and overlapped with that gloriously huge beard. What a crazy looking man. He performed so well. Also! Allen Ginsberg is alive and well, and playing assorted percussionist instruments with Iron & Wine. Photographic evidence forthcoming.
The band just jived together so well; so many of their songs segued into one big jam session, and they were such a contrast to The Headlights. Instead of the goofy smiles and vivacious laughter of barely pulling things together, they had the slow, metered melancholy of well-practiced bandmates who know their music and know how they each work. Oh, music music music. This has been the most amazing four months of live music in my life: Arcade Fire, Ben Kweller, Headlights, Architecture In Helsinki, Iron & Wine, Regina Spektor, Rocky Votalato, not to mention many a porch music-making session with the illustrious Briana and her harmonious harmonica. So so so good.
[and I know, I know, can I ever write anything besides blathering about positivity and good things? But if everything in this world must be taken on faith, well, I'd rather take joy, as long as I'm able. This is how I take stock of my life: at the end of a good day, writing and words and words and words so I don't forget.]
In the mob of people front and center, and last night at the delightfully small and uncrowded Kilby Court, all those usual reminisces came flooding back. Those people, those memories, those moments. But last night, driving home from Salt Lake and then after dropping Jeremy off, it was suddenly clear all these past 18 months mattered just as much as that first year. I remember my Freshman year realizing I was living so completely in the moment, more than I ever had before. I think I've finally stumbled and grown and emerged to that point when I wasn't even looking (isn't that when everything significant happens?).
Moments like that, of realizing I am, indeed, at peace (and more! sometimes even enamoured) with this life of mine, that help me realize I think I am ready for a mission. At least as ready as I'll ever be. It's not that my life is anything special in any quantifiable way; it's just a matter of keeping your eyes open.
So I could blather more about future plans and schemes mirroring gorgeous moments and memories, but really it's 3:40 AM, and I've been cleaning and planning for Jennie's bridal shower tomorrow, and there was good music tonight, international cinema tomorrow, and dinner with the fabulous old roommates Sunday. Life, in all its known specifics, is quite enough.
So a quote from storypeople to round off my pondering: "It's hardest to love the ordinary things, she said, but you get lots of opportunities to practice."
1 comments:
You forgot to mention what a great body you think Sam Beam has. I think I figured out why I wasn't thrown by that: I've got a lot of twentiesish cousins who wear beards and long hair, so they don't have middle-ages pouches. And my middle-aged uncle with a beard (and shorter hair) is thin too. So I don't associate beards with bad bodies.
Remember Cassio?
You're amazing.
Post a Comment