What I Learned At the Red Hot Chili Peppers Concert
We didn’t plan on going, more last minute, and I said no initially because “music festivals aren’t really my thing.” Crowds feel stifling, and while I LOVE music, I love dancing in the comfort of my car or kitchen, busting a move and blasting out a new recipe. But there is novelty in new experience, and I’m so glad I took the leap.
What I learned:
Say Yes. I’m stubborn. A lion, extroverted introvert that loves a good night sleep, heavy sweat re: morning movement, healthy fuel and also fun, but like the fun part in moderation. It’s easy for me to stay stuck in my ways, my routine, what I “like,” and yep, say No. But when I say yes, I always have a good time. Dare I say, I’m fun. If you like me, default to NO sometimes. Say Yes. With conditions, if you must. Mine were simple, When I agreed, I had only two conditions for going: 1. Buy me a beer.
2. Leave before its over to beat the crowd. He agreed. To both. Say Yes. Let the rest unfold. Your sleep, workout, routine might be compromised temporarily but life is in real time and I’ve missed a lot of fun saying No. “I'd rather regret the things I've done than regret the things I haven't done.” —Lucille Ball
2. It doesn’t matter HOW you get there. Just GO.
Spontaneity is fun, usually. And so I threw on “hot girl music fest attire,” crop top belly out, stacked heels, not into flats, belted cargo pants, and “ready for anything,” attitude. “Wear these,” he said and handed me a pair of sexy Oliver Peoples’ glasses. “Like an invisibility cloak?” I inquired, jokingly. Harry Potter, inspired, crowds are tolerable if you can float through “invisibly.” I insisted on grabbing a pack of gum en route because gum quells my anxiety — give me something to do, or chew. Assuming we’d Uber, he stopped and looked at me, “Change of plans,” Ubers’ aren’t running,” he said pointing at one of those flimsy bird scooter things.“Jump on.”
Haha I thought. He must be joking. But with “cool girl energy,” and my reminder to be easy, I hopped on board, him in front of me, feet stacked in stacked heels, rail road tracked one behind the other. No handbag, just pockets packed with chewy sweet things, left hand gripping his waist, right gripping the limoncello Lacroix with straw, because gum makes me thirsty.
We hightailed it across busy Caesar Chavez Street, glued together, until I fell off gracefully, ie caught my balance without the street catching my face first thankfully. He was more alarmed than me. Our scooter adventure ended, and with no plan, but we kept walking to find the next right thing. In front of us was one electric bike, waiting. “Hop on,” he said. My cool girl energy agreed, mounted first, and then he jumped on in front of me. “I can’t see anything!” I trusted he’d do what was needed. Energy goes where intention flows, and so he started pedaling, and sweating — he remained steady, and I kept chewing, we didn’t get stuck, we just kept going.
I saw a suspender wearing shirtless cowboy on a Rickshaw and resourceful cool girl energy said energetically, “Why don’t we just hop on with him?” He agreed, but the grid system for the bike things was tricky — So, I took the shirtless cowboy and he rode his e-bike next to me. He parked and then we arrived together to the festivities. Cowboy dropped us by the scalpers and we made a deal with the clipboard carrying, stage map holding, guy. We Venmo’d (trackable) and headed in. Of course one of the tickets was fake. Never trust a clipboard. But when there’s a will, there’s a way. The HOW didn’t matter. We made it in and through the crowd to see Flea in his glory. I got my beer. We danced. Left before it ended — via the same cowboy rickshaw who brought us there. It was FUN. The HOW didn’t matter.
If everyone had a road map to life or otherwise, we’d all be beautiful and billionaires with buddha energy and sleep like babies. I’m probably more guilty than most, of dreaming, praying, needing to “KNOW” instead of just trusting that I will get there … as long as I know where I’m going. It doesn’t matter HOW as long as I’m taking small steps every day toward the goal. And truth be told, the journey was far and away more fun than the actual destination. (But maybe that’s because I like shirtless cowboys and 50 Cent via boom box better than a massive crowd and port o potties.)
The how reveals itself eventually. Just keep going.
More lessons from the crowd:
3. How we define ourselves is how we will be defined: Once we made it to the show, we settled front left of the stage and let the music move us. Energy. It was thrilling, until I became distracted by the guy next to me. Yep, that guy. The guy with the polo shirt, talking a little too loud, waving his drink a little too wild. Polo shirt was talking over the drums to the barely of age girls, “Thank god I made millions of dollars,” as his beer overflowed typhoon style onto my open toed heels. I’m pretty focused but you’d be distracted too. The girls were doing their thing, minding their things — flirty, sure but uninterested seemingly, but this was about His insecurity. He was revealing his cards.
Listening, I realized that the (questionably intentioned but probably nice) guy, felt the need to justify his existence because of his “money,” defining himself by what he’s made annually. How we define ourselves is how we will be defined. Polo shirt, I now equate you to your tax return. I kid, kinda… A younger version of me might have been turned on by this definition, by the older guy, who was “financially successful.” But current me, was just sad for him, sad that society has conditioned women to be presentable, quiet, pretty — and conditioned men to go out and work, provide, make money. And because of all of this role playing — especially in the age of social media, we become so caught in our “definitions” that we forget that our intrinsic value isn’t what we do, but who we are. We’ve become so distracted by the reality that we’re all worthy regardless of what we look like or what we have! Even at a concert, we get caught up Begging to be seen.
Polo shirt was really saying, “I want you to pay attention to me, because I have money. I am important because I have money. I have money so you should like me. Because society told me to make money so that you’ll like me. But do I like me? Is that why I like me? Is that why I’m worthy? I’m worthy because I make money.”
Maybe this is too deep.
3. Judgement of Others is Projection of Self And yet I’m not here to judge anyone. I’m just here to be me. We ALL want to be seen. And Younger Olivia might have been impressed by his money. Angry Olivia would have been disgusted (mostly at Younger Olivia) for being impressed by his money. And me, Olivia, (integrated post a LOT of therapy Olivia) just feels compassion for the guy, for any person, who doesn’t think enough of himself and has to justify his worthy by his bank account, especially while jamming out to Red Hot Chili Peppers!!
And really, his intention was probably to get laid, smoke some weed, with some barely aged girls who he’ll probably never see again — And its not his fault for thinking that his worth is his money. And its not the younger women’s fault for flirting back or wearing crop tops or dancing.
Because women are told since we’ve been young to be pretty, to get married, and men told to grow up, and make money. The cycle is fucked from all ends. And so I’m careful not to judge anything. Because judgement of others is just projecting.
So, I observed, listened and learned and just kept dancing. Music is the one language that is universal, besides love, really. But love comes in all forms and often with conditioning. So I’ll keep dancing, honoring that self worth is not defined by anything. We are all worthy simply because we are.
Wherever you’re going — say Yes, forget about How, just go. What matters is that you go, you keep going, you grow. Focus less on the destination and more on the journey. With self definition as your north star, less judgment of self and others, And never forget just how worthy you are. Trust Yourself. Everything we need is inside.
Love always, Olivia
Spotify has a fab RHCP playlist, here.