The Second September

A September ago now I had a wonderful trip. There must be something magical about that little ex-church in the center of Nashville... it somehow pulls you and throws you into a place somewhere quite far away actually. Last September, it was away from the hell of a new life that I had found around me. From the groans of my soul and the constant lump that burrowed in my throat. And then he came out, dressed in those colorful wings, as if he knew exactly where he would take all of us and was merely toying with our sense of stability. "What the water wants is hurricanes," Sufjan humbly spouted to the crowds on his opening lines. "I have a red kite; I'll put you right in it. I'll show you the sky." And that's exactly what happened.

This September another escape occurred, though one of slightly different dynamics. My soul was not rotting; my times have not been hard. My times have just been nonexistent. I sit here and I honestly cannot remember the last time I had the ability to sit and think, not worrying about a meeting I had in five minutes or a paper that was waiting to be written. But yesterday, a Irish man once again used the Ryman as a portal to access another world. It was a world where time didn't really seem to flow at all, where my busyness was drunken away. And it was incredible. What an experience. Even without his beloved Lisa, his vocals that soared from one extreme to another made up for the difference. Clocking in at an hour and 45 minutes of straight playing time, unsupported, it was a gem of a night. The famed drunken "Cheers Darlin' " finale couldn't have been done better, and I don't think I've ever seen an exit from the stage as masterfully executed and as appropriate to the evening as the one that played out before my eyes there, bringing me back to the present world a new and freed person.




Two different Septembers and two different circumstances, yet the same effect. September at the Ryman has brought me into the year once again. I wonder what will greet me for the next one.