The Visitor

I am writing this blog post from my little apartment in Sylvan Park, a few miles down the road from bustling, crowded honky tonk bars full of happily drunk people. Usually, on a saturday night, I'd be one of them; but tonight is different. Tonight I am curled up on the couch, watching bad movies on Netflix, eating a sensible meal of turkey breast, roasted sweet potatoes and broccoli, and feeling more melancholy than I have in a very long time.

You see, I just returned from a couple of semi-life-changing experiences. The first was a month-long tour across the US that I intricately planned for 6 months straight, where my bandmate and I were able to travel to new cities, meet amazing people, and do what we love most in this world. The second was an extended trip to California, where I spent much-needed quality time with friends and family, explored the entire North Coast, and taught a music program at a camp that's been a part of my life for 11 years now. It was all amazing...every second. But then reality kicked in, and I returned to Nashville. An exciting, constantly growing, yet harshly unfamiliar place, even after 2 years.

When I made the decision to move here, I knew it would be difficult. Moving to a city you've never lived in, knowing only 1 person, having no job and no connections in the industry you want to be in is not an easy task. However, I took my time, made strides, and slowly started turning this place into a (temporary) home.

So why do I still face difficulty coming back every time? Every Christmas, every weekend trip away, every small vacation...I've been struggling with this for a while now, even though I know this city is helping me develop as an artist and songwriter.

The only conclusion I've come up with so far is this: I am the visitor. 

I have chosen a lonely path. A path that requires me to follow my passions and live far away from the places and the people I love most. When I visit my hometown, I'm the outsider. It doesn't matter how often I come back, because I always end up leaving, in the end. Each time I leave, it becomes harder to let go, but also easier to understand why. When we as humans throw ourselves into unfamiliar territory, we experience the rawest form of emotion. We discover our true selves.

Whenever my convictions start to waver, I am reminded of this quote:

Courage is the power to let go of the familiar. -- Raymond Lindquist

So, as I sit here on my first night back in Nashville, with tired bones and a flood of memories playing in my mind, I will allow myself to mourn. We all make sacrifices for the things we love; I'm just grateful that mine are so minuscule when I put them in perspective. Tomorrow morning, however, I will wake up in a new light, with a new focus, and keep on going, because as Chuck Palahniuk says, Don't do what you want. Do what you don't want. Do what you're trained not to want. Do the things that scare you the most. --