Soul Spa

I swear, Adam Young of Owl City has healing in his music.

Since roughly April, there have been plans for Mom, my youngest sister, and I to see Owl City for their Houston concert this year in October. Due to family health issues, Mom was unable to make it, but Shannon and I were still on to go.

A couple of days ago, I was inundated with information about Israel, its current state of war, and a flood of images about the massacre that started it all. It was overwhelming. Numb, I cycled through periods of sitting with my puzzle, slowly piecing it together as I watched video after video of the atrocities. In between, I had moments where I was determined to resurrect all abandoned social media platforms and start declaring my stance. I even wondered if the IDF would take me, even if all I could do was cook, clean, or sew. Above all I had the sense that I. Had. To. Do. Something. And not only do it, but do it somewhere visible because, let's be honest, my blog is not visible like my Tumblr was or my Youtube channel is.

A day after I started absorbing all this information, I had a concert to go to. So I went.

From the start, though we were at the same venue, the Owl City crowd was markedly different from the Flogging Molly crowd. No surprise, really. They were calmer, politer, and I did not get doused by a random spilled drink. No fights broke out and people from the stage thanked us repeatedly for being there. The Flogging Molly crowd was more fun while the Owl City crowd set me more at ease. It was a completely wholesome feel.

I brought a dark mood in with me. I trailed over seven hours of horrific images burned into the back of my eyelids. I carried in questions about what I should DO about it all.

The opening act was a singer I'd never heard of, Dan of Augustana. It was just him on a keyboard, and listening to his music was like getting a soul massage.

I thought about how much Mom and Sergey might enjoy the music, and perhaps they might enjoy a soul massage as well, so I filmed a larger portion of each singer's set than I had last time I came.

Then, Adam Young came on. Whatever emotional loosening began with Augustana rapidly accelerated, peeling back the darkness as Owl City opened with Cave In.

As I listened, I found myself rejuvenated. Refreshed. Restored. The words that kept coming to mind were, "There is healing in his music." But then, that has always been the case. When I am in peak anxiety and most music scrapes my nerves raw, it is Owl City and Enya that can reach me in that dark place.

About halfway through his set list, I remembered--as if nudged--something I'd forgotten: This too is important. The artist who presents their gifts to a weary, hurting crowd, imparting equal healing and rejuvenation to all, is important. Adam Young didn't stand on stage and make a declarative stand about anything of worldwide consequence. He stood on stage and gave his all, both for us and for Jesus (his words), and the result was a direly needed restabilization of my soul so I could make my own decisions with a clear head and unburdened heart.

I watched him up on the stage. That, I understood, is my place. Not on the stage, but standing in the shoes of the rejuvenating artist, offering a few hours of rest to weary travellers and heroes alike. When I left that night, nothing had changed for the better in the world, but suddenly I had both feet on the ground and I was ready to face it all again.

There is nothing I can do for Israel in my specific gifting here and now, and that is frustrating, but I know who I am. When I considered what I might force myself to do on behalf of Israel, I lost sight of myself completely for a few days. If I am a shell of myself forcing an action, I will do nothing but get in the way.

I will likely frame my opinion here in a separate piece because that is what my blog is for, but advocacy is not my main function. Presenting stories that lance wounds and push through toward healing is.

Thank God, Owl City, and Augustana for the soul spa last evening. It was sorely needed.