Last night, right in the middle of Kelley Hunt and her band performing “These Are the Days” (a song we co-wrote), time stopped and the moment sealed around me. Kelley was singing her heart out, her band — an amazing bassist, drummer and guitarist — were playing to perfection, and a giant fan to my left blew wind across my face as I sat with 5o or so others in the giant warehouse-type studio of the gracious, kind and talented Stan Herd. The dim light of the coming evening, offset by the warm orange glow from lamps situated around the space, and the people there — arranged on chairs and stools of all stripes and stops — all seemed encased in the beauty of Kelley’s singing, her clear tones ringing through us and clearing our minds of clutter.
Soon she would move onto a boogie-woogie rollicking song that brought us to our dancing feet, people coupled, singled and tripled in the dance space in front of the band, and eventually rising in the make-shift aisles and corners because they couldn’t help but dance. Soon the heat of the day would completely dissolve, the concert would end, and we would disperse. But at this moment, precisely when she sang “These are the days/ These are the days/ These are the best days….of our lives,” I suddenly realized the song was about right now.
Not to privilege the present over the future or the past, there were and will be many more moments that make us realize we’re living one of the best days in our lives. Yet in the center of that moment last night, I felt more than ever how close we are to waking up our sleeping hearts to what we are given, again and again, by the generous voices and visions all around us. All we need do is stop and listen.