Los Angeles, California
I thought to call this post Sarah, Part Three, but I frankly couldn't remember if there was a Sarah or a Sarah, Part Two. And, resonance fits here, so that's what it is.
Cin and I went to see Sarah McLachlan last night. It is the second time we've seen her this year, and the third time I have seen her in the past year. This concert was at The Greek Theater which is such a lovely venue tucked into the hills of Griffith Park, LA's largest park and nothing whatsoever like Central Park in Manhattan. It's wild, mountainous, and topped by the famous Griffith Park Observatory featured in films like Rebel Without a Cause and La La Land.
We had amazing seats, fourth row of fixed seating, in the center, on the aisle. And we were just coming off of a heat wave so evening temps were comfortable without sweaters or jackets.
Before the concert started, we conversed a bit with the couple who were seated next to us. He asked me if I had seen Sarah before and I told him, rather sheepishly, that it was my third time seeing her this year. So you're a big fan, he stated. I told him why. There is not an emotion nor an issue that I have ever experienced in my life that isn't expressed in her music. I asked him if it was his first Sarah concert and he said it was. So what brings you here? He told me that he works with substance abuse patients and her music often resonates with what his patients are experiencing, especially Angel. I can see why. She speaks to wounded souls. He replied that there are a lot of wounded souls out there. We're all wounded souls, I said.
Turns out that he is a psychiatrist who runs substance abuse as well as related programs at UCLA. Since Cin is a psychotherapist, they connected and after the concert, he offered his card to her In case I can help in any way.
So the evening with Sarah's music was a lot about touch, connection, emotions of joy and remembrance. And just to recap, Cin and I have known each other since 1977 and have been through a lot together: Divorce; deaths; aging, and a separation when we put our friendship on hold that grew to fifteen years. So when Sarah sang I Will Remember You, the song that used to remind me of my dad but now is only about my late husband, Tom, and I wept again as I had in the other two concerts this year, she put her hand on my arm. By the time Sarah came back out to sing Gravity and Angel in her expected encore, we both cried through both songs and made a stack of our hands on top of each other's.
I was reminded of a concert I attended with my friend, Holly, in San Francisco. She lost her husband, Doug, the same year that Tom died. Neither of us were prepared for James Taylor singing Fire and Rain, with the lyric: But I always thought I'd see you again. We ended up in each other's arms, tears streaming, by the end of that plaintive song.
The thing about last night's glorious concert on such a lovely Los Angeles night, is that we both knew that we were willingly and wantingly walking into that experience. And yet, we also sang Ice Cream with the entire audience, and rocked to Building a Mystery. Her concerts span the spectrum of emotions and as I write this listening to a scramble of her music from my iTunes library, I feel the resonance of what her music means. What it means to me.
In the years before Tom died, I noticed that he was flat. We could be doing or experiencing the most joyous activity or event, and he was just emotionally flat, no matter what. I am someone who über-experiences my emotions. Dancing brings me joy, but occasionally it tips over into rapturous joy. I felt the same after seeing Candide at LA Opera, or after my one and only Rolling Stones concert in 1975 (Tour of the Americas, I still have the T-shirt) attended with my great love, David, who was (is?) the biggest Rolling Stones fan ever. One night after attending a screening of Ken Burns' newest documentary at the Museum of Motion Pictures in Hollywood, I was so elated at the surprise of Ken Burns showing up and speaking (and doing a Q + A afterwards!) that my friend, Karen, remarked to me the next day that she was surprised that I was so hyper after the event. I guess elation can come across as hyperness. For me, it is that unexpected joy that can possess you when you experience something truly special. It doesn't happen often. But, truthfully, I have always lived for those stellar moments.
And the thing is, that it seems to always happen when I see Sarah. Something about the music, especially about the lyrics, and her distinctive voice. I texted Cin this morning that we should see her every time she is touring. It can be our thing, I wrote. She texted back I love it!!! And maybe that's the biggest thing. That hearing and feeling the love on that stage and in that audience. You just knew that everyone was feeling it. And it is something we need so much in these terribly dark and corrupt times. So today, I am listening to her and it is bringing me the resonance of last night's concert of tears and joy. And I just cannot wait till she comes back to town again.
