Free Yourself To Be Yourself

June 4, 2017 (continued)
Day 24: Soldier Field

At the loading dock entrance from about 3:30 to 5:30pm, there was what had by now become the old familiar scene.  I felt obliged to stay, having handed Bono's cousin AJ a letter for him informing of Elsha's immediate cyber presence.  The stress had become a new normal, being there with dozens of pushy, excited and nervous fans as we awaited the arrival of the band.  At one point I stood up to hold my space at the rail, to discover a single feather had somehow appeared under my seat and was now lodged firmly between my feet on the grass.  I chuckled to myself, and messaged Gina about the synchronicity of the angels leaving me their calling card at this point in time.  If God would send His Angels, indeed, they were right under my nose all along.

On the rail, I passed around my frankincense oil to us all, the powerful scent calming our frazzled nerves.  We were there together, a small tribe of hungry ghosts.

Eventually, the black Escalade with the police escort pulled past my spot at the rail, and a cheer went up down the line.  I later saw a photo of Bono waving from inside the vehicle, his window rolled down for just a quick drive by acknowledgement today, only a second or two after he had passed my spot, hidden behind tinted glass windows.

The crowd quickly dispersed, disappointed, and I remained at the rail for a long time, chatting with Elsha over Facebook video messenger.  Marcela stuck close by me for a long while, as if I knew something she didn't, which I did, but it didn't make any difference in the end.  No one came out to fetch me and Elsha, and Bono made no further appearance to greet the fans at the loading dock that evening. Eventually, Marcela said goodbye, with a couple of quick cheek kisses and a smile.  My anger had turned to affection for my new friend in whom I had seen myself so clearly, in my relative sobriety.  I was grateful for her, after all.

 I felt a familiar disappointment.  I was amazed, seeing how I had set myself up for predictable disappointment repeatedly, and I knew I was done waiting by the loading dock for this year, at least.

That night, I celebrated in the wide open spaces at the back of the floor, dancing with new friends, having my photo taken by fellow fans  who appreciated my PopMartian outfit and U2OPIA license plate necklace, and accepting a high five from security guards who must have enjoyed watching me cavort about the place through the whole of the Joshua Tree.  I had found a platform, and in my own secret world, I was onstage too.

One more time, early on, "A Sort of Homecoming" was the jewel of the set.  In the end, I ran out of the stadium as "The Little Things..." began, to wave goodbye to the band as they buzzed past;  "Four jerks in a police escort, that's funny" (Bono's quote, 1992).  I didn't see them through the tinted glass of the vehicles, and that was okay with me. 

Stronger Than Fear

Day 24, Part 2
June 4, Soldier Field Loading Dock Area

From my spot under the giant pine tree, I spied my friends Deena Dietrich and Brigitte Rebecca chatting together across the street.  I immediately felt very silly peeking from across the street, and wanted to talk to my tour friends.  So I emerged and headed to the loading dock to join them.

I was happy there, sitting with Deena, bidding Brigitte goodbye as she went on her way back to hold her spot in the GA line after just a few moments.  Other familiar followers stopped by, and we were there again in community.  It was the third time in 48 hours that I found myself hanging around outside that loading dock.   We sat and talked and just enjoyed the moment.

I got a text from Gina Cloe, a graphic designer and activist in the U2 tribe. She reached out to see if I might be willing to help with a little project she had in mind for the #strongerthanfear campaign.  I was intrigued, and we started talking it over through FB messenger.

After a little while, AJ Rankin, (whom I had encountered briefly in Seattle at the tree stage), walked out from the loading dock and headed off quickly down the sidewalk.  I popped up, and ran after him with my note for Bono.  I called out his name, and he kindly accepted my photograph with the letter hastily scribbled on the back, and he promised he would get it to Bono for me.

I felt a flush of victory as I messaged Elsha an update that our message to B-man seemed to be on its way to him.  At the same time, Gina was waiting for my response to this time sensitive opportunity she had extended to me.  She needed a photo of a group of U2 fans posed in a certain way.
 This photo needed to happen today, following yet another insane and seemingly random act of senseless violence that had happened in London last night, the news of which had broken while we were in Soldier Field waiting for the band to take the stage.  There was no end in sight to this grief, and the #strongerthanfear campaign was out to provide U2 fans with encouragement to continue to stand up for love.

This was an effort that was dear to my heart, and struck me as a spiritual counterbalance to the madness of ongoing efforts for individual face time with Bono.  All the while, my heart was skipping in my chest as I considered the strong possibility that the lead singer might receive my communication this afternoon, and my mind was addled with everything that had happened over the last 48 hours.  Regardless, I knew it was time for me to rise above my personal limitations, draw on some higher powers, so that I could do my part and be stronger than the fear I had of standing up and acting like a leader.
I told Gina I needed to take five and I crossed the street to sit on the grass and ground with some deep breaths.  I asked silently of the space inside myself for the strength to get out of my own way and be useful.

After a few moments, I messaged Gina back and said I would do my best for the campaign.  I crossed back over to the fans, still rather shaky and feeling incredibly awkward, as I put on something of a strong voice and asked the other fans awaiting the band's arrival if they would be willing to participate to help make this picture.  Most of them turned away from me, as I stood there in front of them in my velvet skater skirt and silver high tops, speaking out about the need for us to stand up to terrorism.

There were a couple of women, though, that didn't look away from my ridiculousness... and one that even nodded as I spoke.  Two of the women who had been sitting with Deena also stood up and agreed to be a part.  And so here was my first opportunity, in the moment, to stop agonizing and get organizing on U2 show day.
Before long, I had five fans arranged and photographed according to Gina' s specifications.   I sent her a couple of images, and she said she would work on it and let me know, giving gracious thanks for my help.

Whew!  I was relieved that was done.  I sat down near the barricade again, and tried to relax.  It was about 3 or 4pm by that time.  More fans were showing up in hopes of a meet and greet.  A number of those who had been present yesterday appeared, including Marcela and Paul and their friends.  Blessedly, not including the blonde bully whom I had since realized, clearly, had been an autograph hound.

In contrast to the day before, Marcela kept her distance from me when she arrived on Sunday at that loading dock.  She looked exhausted and nervous.  Now, as I write this, I understand that surely, I must have looked that way too.

U2 fans stand up for love 

Day 24: Hitting the Ground in U2opia

Day 24:  Hitting the Ground in U2opia

June 4
HI Chicago

Upon awakening Sunday morning, my body was tired and my heart was happy, until I checked my Facebook feed around 10 or 11am. At that time,  I saw a video posted that showed Bono walking out yesterday evening to Marcela, in the spot I had left 90 minutes previously, upon her suggestion that if he hadn't come out by 4pm, he wouldn't be coming out at all.  Still, there she remained, at 5:30pm, waiting in that very place and insistently calling to him "HI Bono!" repeatedly, as he walked right up to the spot where I had been and began to chat with the line of fans.  It seemed that she quieted only when he took her hand.
I felt like someone I thought of as a friend had tricked me and stolen my stash.  If I had been a cartoon, steam would have been coming out of my ears.

In the midst of that rage, I got it.  This was the response of a frustrated addict, seeing someone else get what they had wanted.  Or maybe a toddler, seeing a girl steal her favorite toy.  I zinged a few sharp, pointed comments at her through Facebook once I stopped seeing completely red.

Blessedly, at my current age of 40, I had come to understand that the things that bother me the most about other people show me the unhealed,weakened aspects of myself.  I remembered hearing in the rooms of recovery, and even prior to my entrance to those rooms, the saying "you spot it, you got it!".  Was the Universe winking at me, being that my new acquaintance Marcela not only had the same name as me, but that she was also serving as my mirror today!?  If I was going to be angry with her, wasn't I really only being angry with myself? Surely, to be honest, in past decades, I had at some point behaved selfishly in relation to other fans in order to advance my own purpose of contact with Bono.    I felt, in this experience, and those ego driven moments in my past, where I had been the offending party, the dark side of U2 fandom: wherein we turn against each other, reaching and pushing against each other, because we really can't get enough "of that lovey dovey stuff" that we can feel welling up from within whenever the members of U2 come into our immediate view.

So there I was, exactly 18 months free of my substances of abuse, and ironically, still caught up in the frequency of addiction.

I didn't want to be a part of it anymore.   I didn't want to go back and sit against the barricade again today.  There was a lovely lakeside right next to the venue where I knew I might spend a beautiful day soaking up the sun and the wind.  That's where I could go, I told myself as I got dressed to head back out into the city.

Before I had spotted the offending video in my Facebook feed, I had spoken with Elsha about what had happened the day before, and shared that I wasn't sure about sitting around waiting for the band today; that I wouldn't be willing to stay there long if it were to turn into a pressure cooker as it had the day before.  Elsha and I agreed that it would be okay to write a note for the singer, to give to one of the bodyguards or techs, to let Bono know that she was available through my phone today if he would like to video chat with her.  I penned a message to the star on the back of a picture I had of Bono and me meeting in years past.  Then I went out and found an Uber to take me back down toward the lake and the loading dock.

When the uber pulled up near near stadium, I was again dressed up (like a car crash?) in my velvet skater skirt, my silver high tops, blue galaxy leggings, and one of the Dream Out Loud Film crew t-shirts that Dave the filmmaker had given me the day before.  I figured some people I might know might be hanging around the loading dock already, and I didn't want to be seen.  I hopped out of the car a block away, crossed the street to get within eyeshot, and peeked to see who was there, as I crouched  under the canopy of a giant pine tree.

PopMartian on a Rollercoaster Ride

Night 23
June 3: Inside Soldier Field

As soon as Chris and I got inside the venue, I started to feel better. Memories of entering Soldier Field for U2 twenty years ago with my big brother came flooding back. The sense of joy that I had felt on that day returned as we found our way to our club level seats.

We sat down and took in the view from section 209. The floor and the seating sections were only beginning to fill up as the sun sank down in the sky, getting ready to fall completely obscured behind the stadium.  I was grateful to take another moment with my softly shining solar star before this long day might transform into another magical night.

I spoke with Elsha over Facebook chat, and shared the scene with her through the lens of my phone.  In a moment after we disconnected, I saw a text had come in from Ken Mendez, and his message brought unwelcome news.  Ken sent pictures of Bono that he had just taken, right out where I had sat for four hours waiting on the singer through the afternoon.  I had missed Bono's late arrival.  I felt as if my heart might break as I looked at two gorgeous pictures of the man greeting the crowd.  My pre-show happiness vanished and was replaced with deep pain for having missed him, especially after having waited right there for so long.  Marcela had been mistaken, apparently.  The adorable pictures Ken M. sent hit me like a punch in the gut.

Ugh.... so close yet so far.  I sadly shared the news with my brother Chris, who didn't seem too bothered.  I was so sad though! Before this news came through, I had been planning to grab a number on my hand after the show, and play the GA game again in anticipation of tomorrow night's show.  After seeing this turn of events, I figured I'd better go wait by the loading dock to see what I could see again tomorrow after the GA crowd would be let into the venue.

The smells of pot and alcohol wafted around me.  The aching hole I felt in my heart nagged for me to fill it with one of my old addictions. I was craving for real, for the first time in a long time.   I was glad Chris was with me, keeping me grounded in sobriety.  After all, higher powers willing, tomorrow, June 4, would mark eighteen months free of marijuana and alcohol for this grateful addict in recovery.

The stadium continued to fill, and The Lumineers played to a happy crowd under the oncoming twilight.  Soldier Field was overwhelmingly massive, and despite myself, I began to admire the sheer power of this joyous humanity brought together again by U2 music.

Finally, Larry's entrance song began, and he was striding down the ramp on his way to bang into "Sunday Bloody Sunday".  As the rest of the band joined him, one by one, my heart sank, seeing how terribly far away they were from me.  I flashed on troubled memories of my very first U2 concert, 25 years prior, when I had felt pained over how far away they were onstage in RFK stadium that night.  Tears began to creep up behind my eyes....
Then I remembered hearing Bono say sometime in the past...
"If I stay close to the songs, and you stay close to the songs, then I guess we can be close to each other"

With that thought,  I pushed off my personal rock bottom of isolation, powerlessness, and regret, to find my way into the songs, starting with "Bad", where we, the multitudes at Soldier Field that night, came together in an intimate embrace inside the inner sanctum of our collective, shared heart.  The band was the channel; the music led us inward together.

The beauty of the stage and the production was breathtaking from the club level.  The HD screen, indescribable.  My brother the photographer made some gorgeous shots while I danced through Side 2 of the Joshua Tree.

"Ultraviolet" remained in the encore, and I thought of my little daughter.  The lyrics this night very clearly spoke my message of gratitude to her.  Back when I felt alone, pregnant, and frightened, when "I was all messed up and I had OPERA in my head, (her) love was a lightbulb hanging over my bed".  I was in joy, thinking of her, singing what had since become her song, as we had used it to announce her anticipated birth on Facebook in 2013.

 The waves of happiness continued through the encore with "Elevation", where, from this angle, I was able to appreciate the enormous power of the crowd, spreading out before Larry and the big screen, and behind him in a magnificent reflection of happy humanity. Joy all around in these songs, in this celebrating crowd, and in the end as "I Will Follow" closed out the night for us.

Chris and I sat, and watched the crowd dissipate, and he marveled that it was the best U2 show he had ever seen, as we took a selfie to capture our post-show glow.  I rode the glow cloud all the way out of that stadium, untouched by the chaotic masses, uninterested in getting a number for the GA line that was well underway for the next nights show, unfettered by the traffic and the drunks and the city chaos, just floating on that sweet soft cloud of joy the whole way back to the hostel.

There was a feminine form in a statue, across from the hostel, where late night traffic was gridlocked and drivers were hunkered down cursing at each other.  She flew gorgeously above the chaotic commute, headlights like a carpet under her heels,  and in her, I saw me.  Happy, joyous, and free, transcending together... not coming down.

So the 34th U2 concert in my 40 years did, after all, end on a peak note.  I finally surrendered to sleep on the seventh floor of HI Chicago in the wee hours of Sunday morning.

Sadly, my sweet dreams would soon give way to a furious frustration, with the return of the Chicago morning sun.

Day 23: Waiting for Godot, Under Pressure

Day 23:  Waiting For Godot, Under Pressure

June 3, 2017
Chicago

I woke up early and rose, after a few hours of sleep in the hostel. My nervous anticipation for the day was pressing in on my heart center. On the way back up from breakfast, I met another U2er, Mr. Ken Mendez from Minneapolis.  We traded stories and shared photos from the meeting with Edge and Adam the preceding night, and agreed that today seemed it would be a good day to head back to the loading ramp and see who else might come out for a meet and greet.

Upon return to my room, I sat in meditation.  I noticed how busy my mind was, and how hard it was to let go of all my scampering thoughts.  I found it challenging to sit there for 15 minutes and nearly impossible to dive any deeper into my center Source than the surface.  There I was once again, just "sliding down the surface of things", and utterly swept up in the ride down the slide.

I called into a Marijuana Anonymous phone meeting as I got dressed for show day.  Having donned my silver light up high tops, my velvet skater skirt, my PopMart tee, and the purple heart shaped sunglasses, I disconnected from the MA meeting early, too excited to wait any longer to head to the venue.  It was about 11:40 am when I walked out of the hostel and found my way into Grant Park.

What a beautiful refuge it was from the bustling urban streets. On the way through the park, again I ran into Ken. We walked together the rest of the way to Soldier Field, along the lovely lakeside, and found the barricaded entrance to the loading dock. We chose a spot where Ken had gotten a selfie with Edge the night before. It was 12:15, and there were only a half-dozen other fans hanging around at that point.
I was very happy with our position on the barricade, seated on the grass where I felt grounded.  Before long  more fans joined us. Deena Dietrich, the author and friend I had met on the I/e tour, and remembered seeing at multiple shows as far back as the 2001 Elevation tour, showed up in her original Larry Mullen Band t-shirt.  Brigitte stopped by too, but she needed to get back to the GA line before too long.

My brother Chris called to check-in, and I let him know where we were, making it clear that I wasn't planning to go anywhere and he was welcome to join us, while trying not to imply any pressure for him to do so. He said he would probably catch up later on.

 I returned my attention to the scene, tying my license plate on the barricade in front of me like a flag. I took a selfie and hashtagged it in slight hopes of winning an upgrade to the Red Zone for tonight. Chris and I had tried for Red Zone Tickets initially, but they were all gone by the time my presale code was activated.  As it turned out, I was actually looking forward to taking in the view from the stands for tonight, yet the draw of the floor and proximity to the band was relentless.

It started getting crowded and more people begin filling in the spaces around the loading dock. I noticed a woman right next to me who was really getting into my space. I was sitting down on the grass, and she was standing up with her ass just inches away behind my head. I ignored it, turned away, and held my ground.

Chris showed up around 2pm, and we sat and had some great chats, real existential kind of stuff, and I told him how this scene always felt a lot to me like "Waiting for Godot":

Waiting for Godot (/ˈɡɒdoʊ/ GOD-oh^[1]) is a play by Samuel Beckett, in which two characters, Vladimir and Estragon, wait for the arrival of someone named Godot who never arrives, and while waiting they engage in a variety of discussions and encounter... other characters. 

We had a great time, sitting in the shade, going deep in conversation about the nature of reality with an ever-expanding perspective, from about 2:15 until around 3-ish, when the crowd started getting a little bit bigger and a little bit pushier.

Around that time, Marcela and Paul appeared.   Marcela greeted me with a big grin and a friendly wave, which was very nice compared to the distracted energy I had felt from her the night before. By then, when I looked up from my conversation with Chris, I saw a lot of people behind us, still sitting casually, whilst also holding their ground. I stood up then, starting to feel a little bit more territorial, and noticed that I had moved further away from my license plate, and now the girl who had her butt right behind my head to the point that I had unwillingly seen a lot more of her hindquarters then I certainly would have chosen to, was standing nearly centered by my license plate.  Around the same time, Paul came around the front of the barricade and remarked, "I see you have interesting company again".  My adrenal system was going off by then and I had no idea what he was talking about.

Then it clicked: the woman at my side on the barricade was the same woman that had been present the night before with a very rude attitude. While we were waiting then, I had spoken under my breath to Paul about how out of line she was. That day, I was only just realizing that the great ass behind my head had been hers all along. And now, there she was standing by my  license plate.  My fight or flight response started kicking in even more at that point.

Paul gave me a sticker he said they had made with an image of the great red screen and the giant Joshua Tree silhouette at the beginning of streets with the band members backlit against it. Marcela was wearing a v-neck black shirt with the same image across the chest, and Paul told me they had made that as well.  Eventually, Paul moved back around to the other side of the barricade where the crowd was actually supposed to be. Soon thereafter, Marcela came and asked for a picture with us, then eventually moved back off the front line when we turned away from her. I noticed the rude ass girl to my right seem to be encroaching more and more into my space so I said something like, "Excuse me, could you please move back over? You're right in front of the license plate where I have been sitting all afternoon."

Things kind of fell apart at that point. She refused to move and instead starting pushing her body against me. I stood my ground pushing back. She started verbally assaulting me with insults and I decided to test the theory that only love would drown out hate: I told her I loved her. She called me gay and kept pushing. I turned my back on her and then we were leaning back to back in a standoff, and it was very very uncomfortable.

I tried to carry on a conversation with my brother, and by then, Marcela, who had found her way up closer to the barricade with us. She asked me how long I was going to stay. Meanwhile my brother Chris was aggravated by the rude woman who was pushing against me. I was still in full flight or fight mode,  and becoming exhausted. The presence of my brother was bringing up visceral sense of what it had been like when I was a school kid being bullied, and i had called on big bro Chris to stand up for me. My drive to flee was starting to get strong when Marcela suggested to me that if the band hadn't come out by 4 p.m., they wouldn't come out at all.

This was really all I needed to hear to be convinced to get out.  I checked in with Elsha through Facebook video chat and told her I was sorry but it seemed like it wasn't going to happen today, and we were going to head out. She said it seemed like the crowd around me was nice. I said, "yeah it does seem that way" and then I winked at her.

Just then, I saw David the filmmaker walking on the hill crest across the street, filming the crowd that continue to grow in anticipation of the band's arrival. It was just past four o'clock by then, and I couldn't resist the urge to escape anymore. I untied my license plate, said see you later to Marcela,  and Chris and I crossed the street, relinquishing our spot to her.

We had a quick chat with David, and then we walked away from the scene in search of some dinner. I felt disappointed even as I was relieved to have escaped the pressure I was feeling there.  I also felt extremely triggered, and noticed panicky feelings rising up in my heart.  I sat down in the grass in the park next to some food stands while Chris went and got us some food. I took some pictures of me with the sun behind me and my license plate in front, and when I look at them the sadness in my eyes is undeniable.

Then a beautiful blackbird came and sat on the grass close in front of me. I took some pictures and felt some communion with him.

And though I remain sad, to not have met Bono again, to have failed to bring Elsha to talk with him today, I felt a bit more grounded back in my body.

Chris reappeared and we had some dinner, and we talked about what it happened. Soon, we got up and started walking towards Soldier Field, where the doors were opening to the fans.

I Go There With You

June 2, 2017


Night 22: Outside Soldier Field, Chicago


It was surreal and fabulous to be waiting to meet the band with my big brother, who had displayed his original Joshua Tree poster on the wall of his room from 1987 through about 1992.  I used to sneak into his room as a pre-teen, before I had caught the real obsession with the music, and gaze at Bono's striking profile, already captivated.


I found a spot to stand near the rail, behind a quiet couple on the sidewalk by the driveway entrance, and next to a few people standing on the hillside where the rail met the grass.  I checked in with Elsha and her mom Shana via Facebook IM video chat.  They were ready to take my call when it was time.  I disconnected with a promise to ring them back if and when any of the band came out to say hello.


I started chatting with the young man in front of me, who wore a big backpack, and found out his name was Paul.  When I introduced myself as Marcy, he remarked that I had the same name as his girlfriend, Marcela, who stood quietly, intently watching the activity behind the gates.  He introduced me to her, and she smiled slightly and said hello, then went back to watching the gates.  I recognized her then, in her black hat with a white brim band, from Facebook U2 fan groups, as one of the women that Bono had onstage during the tour two years prior.  We talked a bit about our experiences onstage with Bono, hers only 2 years ago, and mine almost 20 years prior.  She and Paul watched the video I had on my phone from my time onstage with Bono those decades ago, and I looked at her pictures.


Before too long, the energy changed as more police and a body guard that I recognized came out to let us know that they would be coming out to see us.  I got Elsha back on line via Facebook video chat.  The crowd cheered as Edge emerged from a black vehicle that pulled out of the underground, and he began quickly and quietly making his way down the barricade on the opposite side of the driveway, saying hello and shaking hands. 


After just a minute or so, Edge crossed over to our side, and we all cheered again as my brother filmed.  I reached out my hand across the gap between us and he shook it, saying, "thanks for coming out" to everyone as he managed all the extended hands and declined to sign the outstretched albums.  His body guard asserted in a lovely Irish brogue, "Not gonna be doin' any signing today, just coming out for a quick hello", and I managed to vocalize over the excitement, "Hey Edge, I've got Elsha here for ya.... on the phone, it's Elsha".   Edge looked over, surprised, and saw the phone I was holding out with Elsha's smiling face on the screen.  His voice rose with pleasure as he flashed her a big gorgeous grin and said "Hi!!  How are you!  Big kiss!!" and blew her a kiss through my phone!

To be honest, I can't remember much about what happened between then and when Adam came out, because of course by then we were all REALLY buzzing.  Adam followed Edge's lead, and he managed to sign as he went along the lines.  When he came to us I presented him with a book I had made of pictures from two years before in Denver, on June 6 and 7, when we had met the whole band one by one outside the Denver Arena.  I had it opened to the page that features a picture of him signing my then 13-month old daughter's back.  That day in 2015, she had been wearing a U2 onesie that Miss Elsha had sent her as a gift.  On June 2, 2017, Adam grinned as he signed the photo of himself signing my baby's back two years prior.  As he did, I said to him "Adam I've got Elsha here for you on the phone".  He looked up, surprised, then looked at my phone and said "oh, Hello!" to Elsha.  He moved on down the line, signing for everyone, smiling and said, "I'm on a roll!".

Then he was gone, and the guards said that was it, Larry and Bono had left through a different exit already,  and we floated away from the scene, buzz buzz buzzing, and the Chicago night was dripping with sparkling magic in my eyes.  I took some pictures, and Chris and I wandered back toward my hostel and his car, marveling over the awesomeness we had just shared.  We met two more giddy fans as we walked, and they showed us that Adam had signed their forearms, and they planned to get the Sharpie scripts turned into tattoos ASAP.

I got to the hostel, met uber fan Dubliner Greg Fitzsimons on the way in, who had flown in to surprise the U2 tribe.  We said goodnight and see ya tomorrow.  Finally, I sat in a delicious meditation in my private room before surrendering to sleep.

Day 22: Home Again

June 2, 2017: Home Again
Day 22:  Denver to Chicago

Before I headed to the airport, and after I had left my three year old at her day care for her father to pick up for the weekend, I stopped for acupuncture in Denver.  My energy was running very high, and this was largely due to my plan to head directly from O'Hare airport to Soldier Field to see about catching the band late night if they might be doing a sound check tonight.  My mission felt legitimate:  to go there with the goal of getting Elsha some Face Time with the band members, to bring her in as a part of this scene as much as possible this spring.

Looking crazy in a photograph

At the departure gate in Denver, I found a handful of friends from the local U2 fan scene who were heading to Chicago for the shows.  We got a picture together and boarded our flight, to our separate seats, together in shared tribal spirit.

I watched the clouds from my window seat after we had left the ground.  I could see Larry the Lynx on our tail, but the sunset was on the other side of the plane.  I was wishing I could see our lovely glowing orb, when an ethereal cloud formation appeared ahead.  As we approached, the clouds turned into a pink doorway that I thought might have led to the fifth dimension.

I was on for Chicago tonight, though.  We might even find 5D at Soldier Field, I believed.

When we landed, I called my big brother right away.  I had imagined him chilling in his quiet hotel outside the city, and he surprised me by sharing that he was outside the stadium, listening to the band rehearse inside.   Immediately, my brain shifted into its most driven frequency.  I would not be able to get off that plane fast enough!  I looked around and saw my U2 Friends from Denver rising from their seats.  They looked much more relaxed than I felt.... my excitement was only rising as the plane got ready to let us out.
I had even upgraded to a seat near the front so I could get out quicker!

As quickly as possible, I was out and speed walking through the terminal whilst sending for an Uber on my smart phone.  I had my back up battery and I was ready to get where I needed to be, with the tribe down at Soldier Field.  Over the phone, I had directed Chris to find them waiting around the back under stadium entrance.
I was vaguely aware of a need to use the restroom, but I pushed on.  It was 9:30pm already.  I had to get down to the spot without any delay.

I could see myself, taken completely by this desire.  I could see, peace was not at all my North Star in this moment.  My guiding light was only U2 right now.  I was on a mission.  Elsha knew what the plan was.  I had to get down there and be in place at the right time.

So, after awhile, I jumped in that Uber, and 40 minutes later, I hopped out and said hello again to all the stars of our tribe who were out tonight, shining in the summer night.  There was Margaret, and David Barry the film maker, and there was Jim Naughton, a Facebook friend.  I felt a bit like a star stepping out myself; my plate around my neck, and my silver light up high tops on my feet, as I crossed the driveway to hug Margaret and David, then find my brother who was now standing with dear Brigitte.

I was home again!  So we stood at the barricades and waited, all abuzz, all together.

Day 11-21: Between Times 2 (May 22-June 1)

May 22:  A New True North
Day 11, ONE Yoga, Denver, Colorado

The day after Red Rocks, I had an opportunity to attend a yoga class with one of my favorite teachers.  I grounded into the feelings of completeness and satisfaction I had gained from my sober night at Red Rocks the night before.  I felt content and happy and free.

As the class ended, Gurupriya Beth suggested that we might let peace and tranquility be our new true north.  While I lay there in savasana, I loved the sound of that plan.  That sounded like it would work very well.  That felt like a goal that I could thrive within.

At the same time, it occurred to me that I was aiming for something else in these days of following the band; something other than peaceful thriving and stable discovery of recovery.  Again I was observing myself being, seemingly irresistibly, drawn into these days where "we look for something other". (http://www.u2.com/lyrics/77)

The draw of that "something other" had me torn in two again.  I refused to let this sudden awareness bother me though.   In less than 2 weeks, I would be back in Soldier Field with my brother for the first time since June 27, 1997, when we met up in Chicago for PopMart.  Nothing could bother me, looking forward to that.  My plan was a heady forget-yer-troubles elixir, no doubt.

That evening, I was distracted from my MA phone meeting by scrolling through the Facebook fan groups.  An all too familar post of outrage and agony began to dominate my feed.  "Manchester, why?  No more!".  Oh no god, not again.  My heart sank into my belly as I read the latest news.  Teenagers at a pop concert in the Manchester Arena were gone tonight.

As the conversation turned from agonizing to furious finger pointing, I worked to keep my own vibration locked into love over fear.

May 23:  Collaborative Expansion
Day 12, The Children's Hospital, Aurora, CO

The next morning, the early assumption that the attack in Manchester had been a terrorist act was confirmed.  I sat in meditation for the victims and then I disconnected from the drama of social media, planning to stay grounded in Denver while focusing on love over fear, until it would be time to leave for Chicago in 10 days.

I took some time to meet with my mentor at work about the medically therapeutic yoga initiative that I was heading.  Everything was moving along right on time.  New possibilities of the work presented daily, and I was grateful.

In one of the U2 fan groups on Facebook, before I chose to take a hiatus from the agonized outrage threads that had flooded my wall and drawn me into drama, I had linked to an article about U2's connection with Generation X.  How we had grown up with their music, and heard it before we even knew what music was.  How we had been programmed to like it.  I saw a sudden similarity:  in my recovery from addiction to substances, I was learning that I had been programmed with misunderstandings that had led me to believe concepts which later became the basis of self-destructive behaviors. [Note: I can't find this article  months later as I am getting ready to post this today.  If anyone knows it, or has a link to it, please let me know in comments, thank you!]

Could my over-the-top U2 fandom have grown out of such another misaligned program that had happened in my own early development?  If so, would I be able to find a life of still greater peace and tranquility by de-activating the malware and re-orienting  myself to a more grounded reality?  I, of course, desired a peaceful reality that still included U2 music and U2 concerts, as long as there were U2 concerts to get to.

Sure there had to be a way.  Sure I could move forward through the shows I had planned running up through the summer solstice with such a re-orientation in mind. I could give it a try, anyway.

May 24-June 1: Business as Usual (For a Change)
Day 13-21, Denver, CO

I spent the week working on my routines and playing in normalcy: work, daughter, recovery, writing.  I didn't find much time for yoga asana, though my daily meditation practice continued, and deepened.  With daily practice, the doorway to peace in my heart was becoming easier and easier to access.  I went there every day, intending to share the love and peace I was finding, to spread it around in an increasingly chaotic and terrified world, this knowledge of, and access to, truly solid ground within.

#viewfrommybalcony

Day 10: Hello My Old Heart

Day 10
May 21: Denver, Colorado

 I got to spend some time with Cate and her daughter, and my own daughter in the morning of Sunday May 21st. We parted ways in early afternoon to let my little one have a nap, and so that Cate could take her very excited young lady up to Red Rocks, where the fans were already assembling for the festivities to come this evening. I took my Julie over to her dad's house for the night then headed out to the ampitheatre where U2 had recorded their breakthrough live concert experience on a dramatic rainy night 34 years prior. U2 had come so far in the decades since that performance, and so had we all, really.  I was feeling immensely blessed to be heading there at this particularly magical time in my own journey.

 In 1992, when I had visited Denver with my folks during the summer after I became obsessed with U2, but before my own first U2 concert experience in August of that year, I had only one request for my parents. I needed them to take me to Red Rocks, not to explore the geographical wonders there, only to stand in the same space I knew Bono had stood less than a decade before that teenage pilgrimage.

 Now, in 2017, as I walked the long incline from the lower lot to the line of fans that wound around the rocks awaiting entry to the ampitheatre, I had many of my own memories that had come since I had moved to Denver fifteen years ago. Most, perhaps all, of these memories were hazy pot-and-alcohol infused impressions. This would be the first concert I would attend at Red Rocks since I had began my process of recovery nearly 18 months ago. I was excited and blissful, inspired and grateful, as I found my place at the end of the line of fans.

 We could hear the first band playing as we wound our way toward the ampitheatre entrance. I thought of U2 friends who had been stuck outside BC Place while Mumford and Sons were playing, and I was mindful of my graceful feeling: to be in the midst of such beauty, so full of contentment as I gazed upon the surrounding beauty in these Rocky Mountain foothills.

Before too long, and just as The Oh Hellos took the stage, I found Cate and her daughter in Row 19.  To be in Red Rocks, free of the burden of alcohol or marijuana, with this captivating young band wonderously emanating the sound of pure love from this gorgeous stage... I felt I had stepped into a dream.  There was a relief there, a sense of "There is no end to love", as the magic of The Oh Hellos' freshness captivated the crowd.

There was one song from The Oh Hellos which came out around the time I was pregnant with Julie.  The song had touched me so deeply those years ago that I had included it in a yoga class play list, during a brief time when I taught a small local yoga class.  The song is called "Hello My Old Heart".

This evening, the song's lyrical bridge rang out like a clarion call through the ampitheatre, where a cool rain was beginning to drip down over us.

"Nothing lasts forever 
Some things aren't meant to be 
But you'll never find the answers 'til you set your old heart free 
'Til you set your old heart free! 
Hello my old heart...!" 

 Chills and tingles raced from the crown of my head and all the way through my body to my fingers and toes as tears sprang to my eyes. I sat down, remembering how Bono had sung "free yourself to be yourself; if only you could see yourself" during the I/e tour, and how even then through a haze of alcohol, I would know that I was being called to free myself of my addictions to alcohol and pot. At that time, I hadn't known how!... I hadn't known how to face my fear of trying for a life free of alcohol and marijuana. Only two years later, here I was at Red Rocks in the rain, feeling the childlike amazement of my old heart, beating free, now seen, and felt, and loved once again.

Later that night, after exchanging goodbyes with lovely Cate and her daughter,  I walked out completely satisfied, heart full.  I felt complete, and I still had three or four U2 concerts right in front of me, approaching surely on this journey of 40 days and nights.

Day 4-9: Between Times (May 15-20)

Day 4:  Seattle to Denver
Monday, May 15

I woke up the morning after Seattle to the sound of Heather leaving early to catch a morning flight back to Denver.  I was still lit up from the show and eager to get home to my three-year old daughter.   I was feeling the strain on my body, my heart, my soul that morning as I waited patiently after getting moved to a later flight than I had planned.

When I finally got back to Denver,  I was most pleased to see the clocks read 11:11pm in the terminal at my arrival gate.

Day 5
May 16

I was up early the next day to go pick up Julie from her dad's house.  I was thrilled to see her, and she appeared to feel the same, shouting, "Mommy, Mommy!" and running around the room wildly when I came in.  Her father remarked to me, "You look exhausted."
A sarcastic, "Thanks" was my only reply.

Upon return home, Julie and I stopped in the leasing office to take care of some business.  I nearly got in a fight with the apartment manager about some details of my lease renewal.  As I was about to burst into tears of overwhelmedness, my friend Daena, who works in the office, walked in the front door carrying a bouquet of irises.  Just as I was about to disintegrate, in walked the purple irises carried by a friend, and it was medicine for me to help her cut the stems and sort them into a vase.

It may not have been the kindest thing for me to hear at the time, but Julie's dad had been right... I was exhausted.

Day 6
Wednesday, May 17

Julie had day care,   and I had a mid-day meeting at my place of work, regarding a labor of love project, a soul's calling kind of thing.   For the past eight months or so, I've been blessed to have been granted time to work on a project to explore bringing yoga and relaxation training to the medical patients with whom I work.

I was still feeling completely shellacked, sitting in the hospital library and working through the project, but I managed to get some work done for a couple of hours before returning home to nap prior to picking up my girl from her day care.

Day 7
May 18

In the wee hours of Day 7, I dreamed of waiting for the band at the backstage entrance.  In my dream, I was urgently communicating with one of the bodyguards in an effort to get a message from Elsha to the band.

Elsha is a young woman that I was blessed to meet in 2009 through her friendship with Ted, my daughter's father.  Elsha rises to the challenge of living with muscular dystrophy, devoting her talents to be there for people less fortunate than her, running in marathons, and she loves U2 as much as any of us.  She's an inspiration to us.  She knows the band, and they know her.

In 2005, before I had met her,  I heard Bono dedicate "Miracle Drug" to her from the Vertigo Tour stage in Denver.  In 2009, I had travelled with Ted to see U2360 in Las Vegas, and I met Elsha and her mother there.  In 2011, we heard Bono dedicate "All I Want is You" to Miss Elsha and her mother from the Denver stadium stage.  Two days after the Denver show, Ted and I had traveled to Salt Lake City to see the band one more time.  We waited with Elsha and her parents outside the Rice-Eccles stadium for the band to enter on the afternoon of the show.  I had been feeling shy that year, but managed to quietly get an autograph from both Edge and Bono that day, as well as witness a beautiful exchange between Bono and Elsha and Shana, her mom.  Here's a link to the YouTube video of that exchange (where I managed to shyly assert that yes I think it might be a little cold in Salt Lake that night, and Bono's gaze turned to me for a brief moment)... the exchange between Bono and Elsha starts at 6:40 where my sunglasses atop my head are featured in the right lower corner.

https://youtu.be/zddeg4n7ELk?t=6m35s

In 2017, we were very sad that Elsha could not make it to any of these special shows. It was heartbreaking, and we missed her and her folks.  My dream of connecting Elsha with the band was vivid, and it felt very real, and in the dream, I seemed to have had some success in getting some kind of message to the band for Elsha.  So I reached out to her on Facebook the next morning in a private IM, to let her know about my dream, and find out if she would like to try to video chat with them through my phone in Chicago.

She said yes, and so I had a new mission.  In the meantime, there were two more weeks to work at my job and keep on working my recovery.  That night, I attended an MA meeting in my neighborhood, and worked on getting a little bit grounded.  It was snowing that night, and this increased the disorientation factor for me.  Just two days prior, my daughter and I had been swimming outside at the apartment complex pool.

Day 8
May 19

Julie Grace and I goofed around all day.  I was serendipitously anticipating a visit from my friend Cate and her daughter on the weekend.  They were travelling today and I would catch up with them on Sunday for a show that they were flying in to see at Red Rocks.  Cate's daughter was a huge fan of the "Oh Hellos" who would be on the bill at the legendary outdoor ampitheatre.

Cate was the friend who had made it possible for me to be in St. Louis for PopMart no less than 20 years prior, when I had a 21st birthday dance onstage with U2.  I had met her daughter only once before, in the year 2001, when I had visited Cate in Raleigh, North Carolina, for my first stop of 15 on the Elevation Tour.  At the time, the now high school graduate hadn't been even two years old.  Thereafter, the only time I had seen Cate was in 2009, when I had travelled from my home in Denver to see U2 when they played Virginia, where I had grown up.

Day 9
May 20

I worked through a long Saturday shift, and anticipated a show at Red Rocks tomorrow, May 21st.

Finishing Seattle

Day 3:   Finishing Seattle

We were all elated as the bright lights that opened the encore lit up the Joshua Tree in a disco ball haze.  The beginning of "Beautiful Day" looked very different to me in Seattle than it had in Vancouver two nights prior.  It helped that I had been ready for the scene before "Exit".  It helped that I was home in America again where I didn't feel I needed to apologize for our lack of leadership.  It helped a great deal to hear Bono telling the crowd literally, "We love you, America", rather than essentially, "Hey Canada, let's show America how to get it together".  It helped a lot.

During "Beautiful Day" I listened to Bono describe a world where we would all want to live... and I held up my license plate, one more time.  I heard him describing a place I thought of as U2OPIA.

The women next to me resumed their drunken banter a bit as "Miss Sarajevo" subdued the crowd's high energy that had permeated the performance of "Elevation".  I was in bliss with Bono still only feet away on the tree stage.  I was also beginning to feel a bit of a nagging worry though...   how disappointed would I be to walk away without a moment of personal recognition directly from any of the band members?  And how crazy was it to feel that way?  How crazy, selfish, and lost was I still, in the midst of my own progressing recovery?

The nagging doubt was just a hint of a shadow on the evening as the band got together and got down to business on their new song, the "Song Of Experience" and the very LAST song of Experience, a detail that Bono shared on this night in Seattle, "The Little Things that Give You Away".  Before he introduced the song they'd only played once before, he thanked us all for giving them "what's turned out to be a really ridiculous life", and I said back to him, "right back at you, baby".

Chasing the muse that U2 channels has shaped my life for 25 years.  It has been ridiculously glorious, heartbreaking, bitter, miraculous, tragic, breathtaking, and mundane all at once.  "Sometimes I can't believe my existence" is exactly right.

After the crescendo jam that ended "The Little Things", the band huddled on the stage together for a moment.  Bono broke from the huddle and asserted, "That is the end, but there's one more, for people who've travelled all over....... the city.... lets get back to where we started:  'I Will Follow'... Take the fucking roof off!  I Will Follow!"

https://youtu.be/bBi4V5p0N6s

Suddenly Edge was tiggering around in front of us, and we were all hopping with joy in the old familiar joyful energy of this unconditionally loving song.  And tonight, the bridge, spoke to me... "We surrender, surrender to your sign... we surrender... your eyes make a circle, so we see you when we come in here!" Sam and Trish and all of us were jumping, and I was pumping my fist, and flying into a fit of joy, laughter, solid grinning bliss as the show came to a glorious finale finish!

------------------------------------------------------------

The Afterward

Mad joyful grins and blissful chatter bounced around us as we found our way out.  Astrid walked past from her post at the main stage and I grabbed her for a happy post-show hug, wishing her safe travels home.  To Margaret and Bridget, it was "see you in Chicago!". To Stephen Dorsett, it was wow yes that was great, oh lovely you were right up in front on the rail!  To Kevin, we took the conversation to another level altoghether, I'm quite sure, though I'm helpless to tell you the details of it all at this point.

Just joy.  Followed by a long, thirsty walk home to the hotel room with Heather, then late night pizza, and the spinning satisfaction of flipping through social media until my eyes would no longer stay open.

The Joshua Tree back in The Two Americas... Thirty Years On

Day 3 (continued):  The Joshua Tree returns to the States

I turned off my light up barrettes when the band retreated to the main stage, and watched the screen as best as I could, while maintaining my station just off the rail at the tree stage.  My experience then became mostly an exercise in listening, because at 5'4" I couldn't see much over the other fans and Larry's drum kit that stood between me and the main stage.  It didn't trouble me, though.  I was able to appreciate more of the big screen than I had in Vancouver two nights ago.  In addition to that, the album opens inner landscapes, every single time, and I was easily lost in internal musical vistas.

Until Side 2 started, and then two women who were very close, right up next to me, started a loud drunken conversation that lasted clear through until the overpowering madness of "Exit".  I gave them a couple of those annoyed over the shoulder looks, which were ignored, and then I finally plugged my right ear with my thumb so I didn't have to listen to them, and that helped a bit.

The madness of "Exit" once again stopped all thought... as Bono was back amongst us in the pulsating lights of the tree stage, playing his Shadow Man, staying safe onstage in his role play.  In an interview recently, Bono said that he had been reluctant to get back into "Exit" because it was a place where he used to hurt himself in the 80s.  It is the song of a psychopath.  So he's created the alter ego of The Shadow Man for this tour, and he stays safe.  The visceral experience of being in the space of "Exit", being in that sound, is jarring, dissociating, psychotic, and irresistably compelling.

I was still shaking and catching my breath from the tree stage visit of the Shadow Man when "Mothers of the Disappeared" began.  The broken hearted lullaby gently soothed the rough edges leftover from its predecessor.  Then, back on the main stage, I heard Bono introduce, "The spirit... where is Eddie Vedder?... the spirit of Seattle!..." and the crowd roared with pleasure as the legendary lead vocalist walked onstage.  His voice belonged in the second verse of Mothers.  It was meant to be there.  The ending chorus of "El Pueblo Vencera" rang through the stadium, and then the first performance of the Joshua Tree in the United States was complete; completely unforgettable.

https://youtu.be/USBys4l4VVg

The Arrival into Our Space

Day 3:  A Long-Awaited Arrival into our Tree Space

From 5:30 PM when I found the spot I wanted behind Trish and Sam, until 8:40pm when the band hit the stage, the stimulation kept on coming.  The irritations, the joy, the excitement, the nerves... it kept coming.

It was good to look around the stadium and watch it fill with happy souls.  Mumford and Sons was very well received by a much more filled up Stadium than they'd had in Vancouver, and the Seattle crowd was nice and warm by the time they left the stage.  Nearby, there was a sign to the left of us that read "I'm here for the 20th anniversary of POP", which I greatly appreciated, considering my costume.  Brigitte Rebecca was stationed at the rail closer to the center of the tree stage.  She spotted me, and waved and shared her beautiful smile.  Margaret was behind her by just a couple rows of people, though she had been in front of me in line.  She had sacrificed rail for a more central point of view.  Joy was down closer to Larry's drumkit, right on the rail, and she gave me a nice big smile too.

I talked with Sam and her companion Johnny while we waited.  I listened as a woman several people back tried very hard to buddy up to them.  She seemed drunk and also seemed to think she had a chance of manipulating them and get herself closer to the rail.  Johnny muttered under his breath, "Yeah right we've only been through this a few times, love" as she tried to get them to "be in a picture" with her.  I thought she was being so obvious at the time... I was glad to hear that they weren't being fooled by her manipulations (unfortunately, we can't all be so immutable to flattery, but that's a story for down the road a bit...).  Between the rail and the stage, AJ Rankin, a crew member (and Bono's cousin) who was known to the fans in the know, walked past me and asked what the license plate around my neck said.  I showed it to him, and he said, "ah yes, I remember that one".  I was chuffed, for sure.

 Johnny shared stories of staying in Stuart Morgan's guest house in Ireland and, while there, admiring Adam's lemon colored bass from the PopMart tour that Stuart's missus had shown him.  As the bass guitarist's tech was onstage setting up for Adam, I reflected fondly on memories from the Elevation Tour, when I would usually station on Adam's side of the stage after about halfway through my 15 shows on that tour.  Stuart had kindly remembered to hand me Adam's setlist after Boston 1 in 2001 after the show right away, as I had asked him for it pre-show, and subsequently earned himself a warm spot in my heart forever.  As the twilight set in, and darkness began to fall, I turned on my three light up barrettes, removed my purple heart-shaped reflective blue sunglasses, secured the U2opia plate around my neck, and...

At long last, the Pogues song played over the sound system, and then,  Larry was striding forward down the ramp from main stage to tree stage.  We were finally off into the next dimension of U2opia!

There they were, all four of them. right in front of me (well actually Larry was to my right and I didn't see much of him during the show).  Adam, Edge, and Bono, took turns in a seamless rotation around the branches of the tree stage.  It was a beautiful dance to witness, indeed.  I carefully raised my license plate now and again, when I thought one of them might spot it.

The show started again with "Sunday Bloody Sunday" and "New Year's Day" before the one I had been waiting for; "A Sort of Homecoming".   I pulled out my phone and took a few pictures with the last bit of juice in my phone's battery...

 

My favorite, where my friend David from Vancouver show told me, he's looking right at me!  I told him, naw Trish was in front of me so, he was probably looking at her, and he said nope, it was all me.  Then I zoomed in to study a bit closer and.... well, maybe he's actually not looking at either one of us, or anything in particular... nice fantasy though! ha

As the  backing track of "Bad" began, following "Homecoming", Bono sang the pre-lude... "all come, to look for America".  For me, then, with my phone dead and "Bad" starting, thought was gone.... only full engagement in the song as it began to build in its intensity through the first verse.  I lost myself and there was only the sound, and I was let in, wide awake for the first time.

(Or was I intoxicated by the proximity of the band?)

As I write this, I'm listening to a replay on YouTube, and the chills are running through my body.  Especially now, as Bono sings "We've all come to look for America... we've all come to look for America....".

https://youtu.be/864WfxdepL4

Then, as "Bad" wound into "Pride", Sam was jumping up and down in front of me, and I was recovering from "Bad" and ASOH during a song that I've heard so many times live, it would be one of the top on a list of bathroom break songs, if I were to take bathroom breaks while U2 is in the same airspace with me.

Then the retreat to the main stage, and I turned off my barrettes, as the red dawn of "Streets" began to fill up the surrounding open spaces.