I’m obsessed with live music, and anywhere it’s happening is my happy place. When I’m at a show, I experience so much joy. I let loose and dance my heart out like everyone’s watching, but I don’t care. I surround myself with new and old friends. I can be found in the crowd yelling “Woo!” and fist pumping, spinning in circles, performing high kicks, busting out the running man, bopping my head, dressed head to toe in sparkles and feathers, while giving and receiving as many hugs as I possibly can. I smile so much my face muscles feel sore the next day.
In the past, the only time I felt comfortable in my skin was when I was knee deep in a live music experience. The moment the band plays their first note, I exhale out all of the stresses that I carry with me. All judgement instantly evaporates into the patchouli-filled air as I start to notice other weirdos just like me. No one attempts to hide their weird, because why would you? Everyone’s uniqueness is celebrated and honored there.
This is why I’ve seen the bands Phish and Moe. over 100 times and why I plan my vacations and events around festival and tour schedules. My people (aka my tribe of weirdos) flock there and I always feel safe to let my freak flag fly when I am around them. Not too long ago, I was afraid to let that part of me out when I was at home. I totally smothered the wildest expression of my authentic self and I felt like I was suffocating.
I didn’t go from wearing khakis to sparkles on everything overnight. I like to say I was an authentic self flasher. Now you see the real me. Now you don’t. There was a secret happening below the surface; I almost always had tie-dyed underwear hiding beneath my adulting costume, and during my lunch break I could be found in a bathroom stall having a raging dance party to the Grateful Dead on my iPod.
The more I flashed my true self and was pleasantly surprised that I didn’t just straight up keel over and die, the happier I felt. Even though I would get uncomfortably stared at for my outfit choices and honked and pointed at when I was dancing down the street, I started to notice that I didn’t care, because my personal bliss was worth the risk of looking strange to the world.
The thing is, I know you want to be happy.
Not the kind of happy where you say one thing but do something else. Not putting on a pair of ill-fitting tight pants and telling yourself you look and feel good in them anyway. Not the kind of happy that wears a mask to hide what’s really going on underneath it.
I’m talking about the real stuff.
Maybe you’ve read a million blogs, and you still aren’t feeling happy or healthy. I feel ya big time. I’ve read them all. They all basically say the same things, but in the unique voice of the author. Some I’ve resonated with and others I didn’t. If you are resonating with my words right now, sign up for my newsletter and not only will you get weekly-ish love from me in your inbox, but you’ll get a guided meditation, three smoothie recipes, three dance parties and a playlist.