I spent the whole day, with an anxious pit in my stomach, allowing my expectations to get the better of me. Arriving at the venue with my friends, a wave of doubt washed over me. Walking down the long runway to the front of the stage by myself, I wondered what am I doing? I'm sitting alone at a concert, 5th row on the end. I was restless at first, in anticipation.
Then, Sufjan came on and his feelings deeply resonated with me. His mounting of the volcano Vesuvius only to realize it was filled with hot lava at the top. The influence of artist Roy Robinson on his work. His fear in being alone and not letting himself be distracted. His interest in things spiritual, his thinking on another wavelength. His profession of the songs as therapy, his desire to dance and move and work things out via sound.
His creativity still occupies most of my headspace a day later. Opening with Seven Swans, I knew that the concert would be one that would profoundly affect me.
I'm still profoundly affected. My head is spinning with song lyrics- such that I don't want to listen to the actual album because it might be different from what's playing in my head.
All I can say is this- I don't want to doubt God's existence or presence in my life again after last night. A God who gives me a song like "To Be Alone With You" to listen to everyday in France 4 years ago, then somehow transports me to another place entirely, where the song still has breadth, meaning, and relevance to my life.
At no other show this tour has Sufjan played that song for an audience. My friend Emily told me ahead of time to lower my expectations, as to what he would and wouldn't play and that most likely it would be his newer stuff. I checked set lists from the tour regularly before the show, holding on to a glimmer of hope.
He came out for an encore, and it was the second song he played, alone on stage with his guitar. He wore a Baltimore Orioles cap- the team I rooted for and went to games to each week growing up. I lost it, tears poured out of my eyes, I still have chills right now thinking about my surprise in that moment.
It was a gift from God, as Caitlin says- a reminder that, "Meg, you are loved." I feel overcome with knowing this truth right now. I want to hold onto it, not letting it go.
It makes me think of my birthday this year, when my friend Matt led that song around the campfire and Robin printed out the lyrics for everyone to sing along. Or how Matt sang that to me one of my first weeks here in the city, scared and alone.
Sufjan's vulnerability and creativity were revolutionary. I think I witnessed history last night. I'm going to write him a letter and tell him how much he's been a part of my spiritual journey as I've climbed the volcano only to find lava at the top.
Connecting to his sentiments makes me want to paint again. And God showed me again today- I mean, ten of my favorite artist's paintings imported from France at the DeYoung museum this morning? He couldn't have been clearer. I've got to work through things through painting, just as Sufjan is doing through music and movement.
God's been showing up in neon lights along the way.
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