No sooner did I “complain” about treating my body like a frat house (as opposed to the temple that it should be), I found my way into a Kansas City dive bar where they had live music. I drank a few beers, and ate a meatloaf sandwich. Perhaps this isn’t the leg of the trip to focus on clean and healthy living (though so far, no leg has been).
Last night, after settling into my studio apartment, I walked around the corner to a place called The Brick. It was described on Google maps as a dive bar with live music. I figured I’d get in, have a quick bite and a beer, and probably leave before the music started. I was thinking I could have an early night. When I walked in a little before 6pm, the place was empty, but quickly started filling up. Little did I know the music started between 6 and 7. Little did I know how much energy the place would have and how much fun it would be.
On Mondays, The Brick hosts something called Rural Grit, which is a little like an open mic night. It’s all acoustic music and mostly Bluegrass/Americana music. Local musicians show up and are randomly grouped into duos and trios (or more). They’re all given five to ten minutes to meet their musical partners and decide on a song to play – then each group takes the stage and plays their song. They do three rounds of these groupings and then finish with a jubilee in which all of the musicians get on stage and play.
Americana/Bluegrass isn’t my favorite style, but the vibe of the place combined with the quality and earnestness of the musicians made the music and the atmosphere riveting. They didn’t always hold to the duo and trio concept. Quite often other musicians hopped up on stage to play along, some with instruments as odd as a frying pan banjo (which I had never seen before) and a saw (which I’ve only seen played once or twice).
On more than a few occasions, I found myself thinking about that notion of placing myself close to the unknown where joy has been rumored to reside. Walking into a dive bar and finding a thriving music community. At times, I felt proud of myself – as though I’ve developed this skill/knack for finding neighborhood gems. At times, I was pleased with my willingness to put myself out there and find new things. If the rest of Kansas City turns out to be like my first night, I’ll be thrilled with having decided to stop here.
At a coffee shop this morning, I saw a barista who looked strikingly like my ex-fiancee (who also once worked as a barista). This jogged my memory. If I remember correctly, she once thought of moving to KC. I think she said she had narrowed her choices down to KC and Philly and ultimately decided on Philly. Given the artistic vibe that I’m getting from the area where I’m staying and the little I knew about her preferences, I can understand the appeal KC might have had for her.
As I’ve traveled around, I’ve tried to imagine living in some of the different cities I’ve visited. In most cases (Richmond, Charleston, Memphis, St. Louis, and now KC), I’ve thought, “sure, I could see living here.” Of course, I’m only getting a small, tourist sample of life in these places. It’s hard to tell how quickly I’d get bored with them or if I’d find my groove. Furthermore, I think without developing multiple layers of the self in relation to geography (friends, colleagues, hobbies, and perhaps a partner) most places could begin to feel like I’m in a holding pattern waiting for or looking for “something more.”
I lived in the middle of Pennsylvania for three years where I built a network of good friends and spent a lot of time in deep contemplation and writing. Having developed those tools, I’m confident that I can do that just about anywhere. What was lacking were some of the other cultural and personal inputs (live music, different art exhibits, beaches and towns and neighborhoods to which I could easily escape/explore, and potential partners). Over the last five to ten years, I’ve swung wildly from always needing outside stimulation (a partner or something to do) to being very internally focused (poetry and spirituality) to now wanting a better balance in all aspects of life. And I think that’s what I’m most looking for: a place where I can find balance – where I can still do the internal work and the artistic work, but where I have other sources of growth. It still feels like the best fit is on the west coast, but I’ve met one or two people along the way where the connections felt natural, and I’ve experienced a few things that have given me pause and proven to be good examples of finding joy nearly everywhere I turn.