Diaries From A Micro-Tour

I embarked on this trip while hovering on what seems to me like the precipice of a decision that could take my life in very different directions. I graduate from university in mere months, and my summer internship here offered me a job. But I never intended to stay; even my current university was somewhere I just…ended up. That job involves a contract, staying stationary. I’ve never been stationary in my life - I count the chapters of it by my grand adventures. For someone who is always running to the next leap of faith, who always tries to leave a back door open for escape, the thought of signing a piece of paper, a lease, a broadcast news contract, is terrifying. Do I commit to staying at least for a little while, to stability and financial gain and responsibility? Or do I do what I’ve always done, the only thing I know how to do; throw myself into the world and leave everything else in the dust.

When to move and when to stay? What draws a person to one thing or the other? And once the choice is made, how do they deal with the bruising weight of the all other what-ifs crying out? Sometimes I feel like all the people I could’ve been and could still be suffocate me.

So, like I’m known to do when faced with a decision like this, I went on a little bit of Goose tour. I was hoping they would tell me something, anything, drop a lyric that would throw me a bone. Words are my lifeblood, after all. Three shows - Chicago, Minneapolis, Iowa. I left for Chicago’s Friday with my roommate and best friend of three years, Lizzie. We took the bus from Peoria and tumbled into the Salt Shed just as Hot Love and the Lazy Poet started. The moves that proceeded to be thrown down on that dance floor were nothing short of frightening, to the casual outside observer. The best Arcadia I’ve ever heard, as an encore? Don’t mind if I do. Let alone State of the Art and Dripfield, two of my favorites.

And the second set closer - a new song that they’ve only been playing since April, Give it Time. The lyrics felt like what I was looking for - “Give it all up for something else. It’s a revelation, it’s a hallelujah, and it’s the nature of the spirit running through ya. So take it easy, just begin again.” But I couldn’t figure out why these words meant something. Give up the life I’m living in Peoria, to run? Begin something again, I had to, but what path was I supposed to begin? What would be truest to the nature of my spirit? I always know what I want - ferociously, viciously. But for the first time, I feel like I’m at a loss. Impermanence and uncertainty have been my vices for so long - I don’t know anything else.

The next day, we headed into Minneapolis, catching a ride with Max, a friend of a friend. Minneapolis is my hometown, and my dad, two sisters, and a friend from home were coming to Goose that night. We had dinner with my dad and headed to the Armory. The first set, we found my friend and lost my dad. The song Animal turned me into a dancing creature. Movement is essential, remember? Lizzie and I jumped and cheered so much that the piano player, Pete, laughed at us. Before the second set, to my shock and glee, my dad materialized from in front of us - he had a better spot than we did. Second set began, and Drive and Hungersite ripped through the building. It was such an odd group, my family and friends from home and school. But my sister was fully dancing, grinning ear to ear. And my dad with his little earplugs in, nodding along and having the most fun I’ve seen him have in a while, throwing the rock and roll sign up in the air. It was like I was seeing Goose again for the first time through their eyes.

Afterwards, my family went home but Lizzie and I went to my other friend’s house. Him and I have been close for years but this was her first time meeting him. When we left hours later, Lizzie said “he’s really cool”, such a simple sentence, but it reminded me how much joy I take in the people I know, good and kind and happy and wise people, spread across continents. They are my home, more than any physical place I live, little points of belonging spread out over a world map.

The next morning, we resumed the trek to Iowa. After a nap akin to a coma we headed into Vibrant Music Hall, a new venue as of November 2023. The inside was fun, patterned, and the ambiance was almost like a large speakeasy. Lily’s Tiger, only played by Goose twice before, was a beautiful little piece and I felt lucky to see it. Lead Up is also one of my favorites (I have many, believe it or not), and Bob Don and Arrow ascended me. It was just plain, pure fun, and even though it was day three and my whole body hurt, the music took over once again and there was nothing I could do but dance. Lizzie went so wild that Rick, the lead guitar, made sort of a frightened face at her, and I laughed until I almost collapsed to the floor. My brain had been exhausted trying to make my decision, turning over every aspect and potential pitfall, and so I just let it go. Let myself enjoy the moment without trying to weigh it down. And right then the decision didn’t seem so very large, after all. I didn’t have my answer, but in a way, I did.

A week later, Lizzie and I were listening to the shows again. I had almost forgotten about Give It Time, but the lyrics struck me anew. I hadn’t listened to the words that come after the ones I mentioned - “take a step back from the race you’ve been running in.” After such a beautiful weekend, they knocked me speechless. It’s this; breathe. Let go of the part of myself that is always screaming, writhing, straining for more, whatever the cost. So much so that I miss what’s already around me. Give that all up for something else - for just simply being in the little, simple life I have built. Goose can’t make this decision for me. After all, it’s just music. And even while I struggle to make it, what I can do is appreciate what I have.

On the final stretch back from Iowa, I looked around and realized I’m in a car with Lizzie, a girl who I met in the college I didn’t want to go to, whom I now call my sister. We’re hitching a ride on a band tour with someone I met through a work friend in the restaurant where I bartend in my college town. Goose and Phish - these bands that draw in some of the kindest, most alive people I know and bring out my inner child - I never would have known about them if not for that work friend. These friends I collected from places I never planned to go. I guess all this just goes to say that we never really know.

Each action has a reaction; each event and point in time is unique to its circumstance. Nothing is forever, nothing stays stationary. That’s the whole damn point. If a person knew everything already, had the whole map laid out before them, there would be no unexpected beauty to life. No excitement, no growth, no leaping headfirst into soul trust in the wonder of God and the earth we’re on. It’s the nature of my spirit to revel in the never knowing. It’s not about making the correct decision at all times, but rather these flashes of true joy on Goose tour that make the weight of everything else fade. The little moments, if I want to be cliché about it. A split second of spark in the maw of the universe. As my friend put it in the midst of the best Drive jam I’ve ever heard: “I saw your soul in your eyes.” Maybe it’s not about what I do, but rather the soul I put into it. Seeing and drawing out the rare pieces of spirit in those I hold closest, those that seem to illuminate everything in a shining moment of clarity and love.

Don’t get me wrong; I still don’t know what decision I’m going to make. And I know there will be nights lying awake that I’ll fervently wish I had picked a different path. There always are, with me.

But I hope to be wise enough to stop and look at what’s around me. I hope to be mindful enough with what I’ve already been given - to treasure closely my best friend’s laugh and the sunlight through the leaves and the purest note of Rick’s guitar. When all’s said and done, what else is there?

Mid-set with my sister's digital camera