guided by the hawk
PC: theprp.com
This weekend took a completely different turn than expected. What was supposed to be a weekend with quality time with a dear friend turned into a wide open, dog-free two days. I could have just headed back to the house and spent the time doing what I normally do on weekends: lounge around the house rewatching the same shows as I look around the house feeling overwhelmed at all the things that need to be done. Instead, I took advantage of the dog-free detail, got in the car, and decided to go do something that would refill my cup. I was already packed, so why not!?
One of the other awesome things about calling Detroit home: in a matter of a four-five hour drive, I can be in any number of cities or states. Wanna go to Chicago? Four hour drive. Pittsburgh (totally a trip that will be happening in June 2023, with a pit stop in Warren, OH… #iykyk)? Four and a half hours. Hell, even Toronto is a four hour drive. That’s a whole other country, y’all! In short, the options were endless. So where did I end up? Pretty sure even using three guesses, you’d never guess the city of Cleveland.
At this point you may be asking: Amber… what in the hell is there to do in Cleveland?! As an alum of a school with a decent football team (well, exceptional team this year) that has to fight tooth and nail for respect, and as a fan of Michigan State athletics, it’s become innate to dislike all things Ohio. Mainly due to Ohio State University. When you’re a hardcore TCU fan and alum, you tend to root for the underdogs and to be against all collegiate teams that are considered a “brand”. And don’t even get me started on the insistence of their fan base for the use of “THE” before name of the university. (Insert aggressive eye roll here.)
Anyone who knows even the smallest iota of who I am and what makes me tick knows that music takes the cake. For the most part, it’s playing in my house 24/7. It represents how I spent most of my school years. It’s the biggest, most profound and influential, and most accessible form of therapy in my arsenal. It’s been a massive part of my life since as early as I can remember. It’s one of the better memories I have of my dad and something that I’m grateful he was able to share with me before shit went sideways. So it only makes sense that I make a trip to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame as a source of replenishment. And boy, did it!
Six full hours of filling up that cup! A quarter of a day spent with the greats of the art that always brings me back to center. Hundreds of pictures taken of the thousands of outfits, instruments, documents, handwritten lyrics, and videos that were barraging my senses. And you can bet your ass that every item that had anything to do with Queen, Nirvana, Foo Fighters, Dave Grohl, Taylor Hawkins, and even my other Taylor (yes… my Swiftie sensibilities were even satisfied today as well) was thoroughly examined, photographed, and appreciated. And it was A LOT!! But it was everything I needed. And more. It instantly sparked the need to write about the day and to sit back and ponder about what lesson was to be learned from this whole experience. Which is this.
When things don’t go as planned, don’t be afraid to abandon the first instinct of returning to the status quo. Instead, accept and adapt. Open your mind and your heart and listen to what the universe is trying to tell and show you. It’s not lost on me now that out of all the clothes I’d packed for the weekend (which was 95% TCU merch because GO FROGS!), the only other piece of clothing I wore/packed was my Taylor Hawkins tribute sweatshirt. It was the universe and the spirit of the hawk himself whispering to me that I needed to start driving east. Figure out what will replenish your spirit and take the chance to go and do just that. You’ll do nothing but thank yourself afterwards!
