Each year, we drive along the tree-lined stretch of Michigan highway as the sun begins to make her ascent across the horizon; we've been traveling through the night from Chicago, nearly four hours now. My playlist hums softly in the background while my husband falls asleep with his head resting on the passenger side window- he never was one for long car rides. I'm too excited to sleep. Since we've crossed the Michigan border the nervous excitement that had my stomach turning flips has slowly melted between my ribcage, dissolving into the most welcome and delicious sense of peace. Brake lights dance like tiny orbs of red light in the distance and traffic begins to build alongside the exit for Winston Road. We roll the windows down, arms stretched out and fingers entangled in the heaviness of the warm breeze. Everything that has been building over the course of the last 365 days has led us directly to this moment. Release. We follow the other cars single-file into the grounds of the Double JJ ranch and I glance over to exchange smiles with the family that surrounds me. There is a mutual understanding shared between all of us without ever having to say a single word.
We are home.
- - - -
"Electric Forest is less about the people who choose to come than it is about what this peculiar event allows those people, including me, to become." ~Giancarlo Buonomo
Writing feels like standing naked in the middle of a crowded intersection. I keep pushing my own brakes when my mind is trying to pummel the gas to the floor; everything feels foreign and flooded and over-saturated in a world that has been monotone for much longer than I'd like to admit. Standing with my feet in the clouds, my head is dizzy from the disorientation. Traction. I can feel myself gaining it with each new day that comes forth. I guess when things get uncomfortable, it's a sign that you're headed into the right direction-- somewhere challenging, somewhere new, somewhere great.