Music is a Sanctuary

Soundtrack of your life

Music has always been my sanctuary for engaging with emotions.

During breakups, it's been my solace, providing the backdrop to long drives in my old convertible, top-down, speakers on high with Sarah McLachlan’s "Hold On" taking over my senses. (By the way, this song isn’t about breakups, yet it carries all the emotion.)

When anger surged, often from work inequalities, I turned to my power trio: Fiona Apple's "Sleep to Dream," Tori Amos' "Crucify," and Alanis Morissette's "You Oughta Know."

For pumping myself up before a big meeting, "Somebody Told Me" by The Killers did the trick.

"Beepers" by Sir Mix-A-Lot accompanies me on my way home from a challenging call, helping me shed vicarious trauma and gear up for the next page ahead.

St. Paul & the Broken Bone’s "Sanctify" (thank you Jon) embodied moments of spirituality, while "Shipbuilding" offered solace during my father's battle with cancer, and I felt adrift in search of meaning.

In my younger days, I could lose myself in a daydream for hours, with scenes meticulously set to a song on repeat. I even pondered what song would be my walk-on theme for life's grand entrance; for a long time, it was "Clarity" by Zedd and Foxes.

And when I miss home, "Hourglass" by my brother becomes my song.

When I'm in the mood to feel free and let loose, there is no one greater than Big Freedia and her Bounce. I might start with “Karaoke” and move on to "Wiggle in the Middle." And, of course, Brandi Carlile wins the Power Ballad award with "The Joke." Still, there is one song that has lasted longer than any other, David Bowie’s "Life on Mars?" (Brandi, if you could add that to your set list, I'd be forever grateful; I know you could do it justice)—his music is pure magic.

Listen to the playlist on Spotify

I may have a reputation for being stoic and even a bad rep for fake crying (guilty as charged), but if you know the right song to play, I can unleash a flood of tears with the best of them. This list is just a glimpse. Any medium-paced ballad with a killer hook, especially one that shifts into a minor key, can sweep me away. Music can set my mood within moments, making me feel courageous, melancholic, or empowered. I consider myself fortunate whenever I discover a new song that has that power over me. And when a live performance amplifies that connection to music, it becomes a spiritual experience—a sentiment my brother aptly expressed during The Dead & Company’s last tour this past summer. It becomes our church; it fills us up and propels us forward.

When music goes silent

I found this journal entry in my therapy notebook, dated September 2020. The task was to list 50 pleasurable things in my life. One entry read:

I LOVE a good music festival. My mom would take me to concerts and festivals when I was younger, and I spent a fair amount of time in my college and post-college years immersed in the festival scene. After marriage and having kids, I lost connection to live music, and festival life faded, mainly because I could not stay up that late. But this past fall, just before the pandemic, I took my kids to the Lyons Folk Festival, where we camped for three nights. They were initially skeptical, and my husband was on the brink of a visible panic attack getting ready for it, stating that this was akin to if he were to tell me we were getting ready to go parachuting out of a plane. We were minutes from canceling, and it wouldn’t be the first time we had tickets for this festival and canceled. I stood my ground and dragged them to the festival. Life changing!!! They LOVED it. I loved it. It was one of our best family weekends. We couldn’t wait to go this year, planned to add on Telluride Bluegrass, and had plans to go glamping at an Americans Festival outside of London this past summer. Of course, all were canceled due to COVID, but this is the first thing I plan to add back to our lives! I feel so free at a festival. There is kindness and community with others, an overwhelming sensation of relaxation, and no burden. The kids gain independence and run free. The music uplifts and moves us. This is what fills my soul.

Like many of you, I constantly live with a soundtrack playing in my head. So, you can imagine the emptiness I felt when, on the cusp of midlife and amid burnout, I couldn't find a song for the moment. Music and music festivals vanished. I couldn't feel that connection I once cherished. I knew it was because I was numb and entirely out of touch with my emotions. This numbness was slow-moving, and you can see from my journal that I fought it. Unfortunately, the numbness overcame and lasted for years, which even music couldn’t reach.

The moment of reconnection

All of that changed precisely a year ago. After two years of therapy, I was emerging from my dark tunnel. My husband and I realized it had been a year since we sold our company, and we hadn't even celebrated with a dinner, let alone a much-needed date night. We decided to purchase weekend tickets to the Bourbon & Beyond music festival in Kentucky on a whim. It was overwhelming.

The festival was a rekindling of our shared love for music, a recharge, and a reunion with the inner part of my soul that had been dormant for far too long. Hand in hand, we watched Lukas Nelson, one of our favorites, and what drew us to the festival. Later that evening, Greta Van Fleet took the stage. Their electrifying performance, reminiscent of Led Zeppelin and Rush (or if those two bands had babies, the GVF brothers would be the result), had the crowd in awe. The brothers strutted about in flamboyant sequined white unitards, allegedly handmade by their mom. The drummer, the only non-relative, looked like a giant, standing tall over the rest of the group, his infectious energy radiating like a beaming Animal from The Muppets. Pyrotechnics erupted with every note, heating the stage and sending vibrations down our spines. I felt my freak flag rising high and succumbed to the energy.

In that moment of pure joy, I pulled my husband aside and confessed, "I may be Americana on the outside, but deep down, I'm all Rock 'n Roll." He smiled back at me and said, "I may be Rock 'n Roll on the outside, but inside, I'm all Americana." It was a moment of connection, a recognition of the sensitivities that drive us. Music is powerful.

And what do you know, Brandi Carlile was there and sang “The Joke” straight from the rotating soundtrack in my head. She told the audience when singing that song; it is important for her to find one person in the crowd to sing it to. To see them fully and lift them. I wasn’t that person, but I might as well have been, for tears streamed down my face. Those tears were a long time coming.

The return to being a Festivarian

One year later, Scott and I found ourselves back in Kentucky this weekend. Over the past year, we've attended numerous live shows, Brandi at least four times and with two more on the books, rekindling our love for live music after its absence from our lives. I have many stories to share, observations to make, and musical adventures to recount. In particular, one of my favorite things to do is spot those tiny moments of joy scattered throughout the stage, the artists, the crew, and the audience. 

And, of course, I'll be sharing my festival packing list.

Follow our favorite moments at Bourbon & Beyond on IG @pullingthreads.

Do you have any Soundtracks of Your Life? Here’s one of mine and I’d love to listen to yours.

Quick Note: Last week, my writing paused, but for good reason. An unexpected trip to Seattle brought me one of life’s greatest gifts. Watch out for the story in a two-part Chasing Happiness series. But before we delve into that, here’s a real-time update.