I wrote this essay as a reflection a couple months ago.
This evening I went to a house concert. One of my old Whitman music major comrades, Maya Elise, organized a concert with a couple other groups of powerful female musicians. I have been watching Maya’s concert schedule for the past couples years, wondering when she would finally come to Portland. When she announced an upcoming Portland show, I blocked the date out on my calendar and bought a ticket as soon as I could.
I had been looking forward to this day ever since; until this afternoon, when I had a sudden feeling of dread. What was I thinking going to a concert alone? Especially in an intimate setting such as a house concert, where I expected to know no one! What should I wear? What would I say to Maya when I saw her? (We were in many classes together over four years, but said goodbye almost five years ago. Although I have been following Maya’s music career, we have not kept in touch at all.) It is very normal for me to have last-minute apprehension and dread around unfamiliar events. I have learned to acknowledge my feelings and then do the thing anyway. (It helps when I am already financially and socially committed.)
As soon as I walked inside and found a seat, I was at ease. It was dark and the music was about to start. No need to feel uncomfortable and out of place! The first group was wonderful. Their harmonies gave me chills, and I fell a little bit in love with one of the women. The second act was a one-woman singer-song writer, ex high school English teacher (you would never guess from looking at her), a woman full of wisdom, humor, confidence, and incredible musical talent. My earlier thought of having to endure opening acts before getting to see Maya play completely evaporated.
Then Maya started to play and I started to weep.
It has already been a very emotional and tearful fall for me. I have cried over the most unexpected sites (Boston Public Library reminded me of Vienna), goodbyes (my darlings that have gone down under), huge accomplishments (finally came out to my parents!), seeing my friends in pain (breakups and family members passing away); I have cried over misunderstandings, from nostalgia, while reading, listening to podcasts, cutting onions, and while remembering both hard and beautiful times.
While I was listening to Maya play, all of these experiences were bubbling up and bursting from me. It was cathartic yet painful to feel so many strong emotions. I would normally look for a distraction or escape from my thoughts, but there was nothing to do but sit with them. It was the kind of emotional intensity that always makes me want to offload. It makes me feel lonely and burdened, like I would really love to have someone to carry the weight with me.
But at the same time, I was looking at Maya, who is such a lively and happy performer, who has grown so much in her musicality, writing, and stage presence, but who is still purely Maya, and I could not help but feel amazed at this life. It can be so exhausting to be a human with such visceral emotions. Life is hard. But life is so beautiful.
I was struck by how odd and wonderful it is to be back in the same room as this woman from such a different time of my life. To see a woman who has grown immeasurably, and is now out sharing that growth with the world. It made me indescribably happy to see her on that stage. It brought back so many memories of a time that was impossibly hard and unfathomably formative. I wept from an explosion of emotions, and I wept with wonder of this life.
I had no idea at the time of writing that I was in training for an even bigger kind of “sitting with my emotions.” Please check out Maya’s Music! She is doing great work for public moral.
