I love how life knocks itself out for me to demonstrate that nothing is actually random. It will always reflect back to the observer what’s going on internally. And when you know how to pay attention, you can see the absolute brilliance and artistry in which life is constantly communicating with us.
If you notice cyclical patterns in your life, have you ever stopped to really look at yourself to find the consistency of thought, of expectation that travels along with you on this journey like familiar sign posts on a train ride?
I had something fun show up for me earlier this week that was a gorgeous reflection that took 35 years to reveal itself for me. It doesn’t necessarily have to span over decades- although many things for me are ongoing and seemingly lifelong love letters from the universe.
Monday night I saw Bikini Kill playing at the Salt Shed in Chicago. This is the third time I’ve seen them play live and I didn’t realize it until Monday’s show that every time I’ve seen them perform has been during intense, poignant moments in my life. Like they are musical bookmarks showing up for me to dog ear my memory.
The first time I saw them play was when I was barely 21. I was living in Nashville- feeling completely out of control in my life. I was angry and sort of displaced. I never imagined I would be living in the south, where hostility towards the LGBTQ + community has always been extreme and dangerous. I made a new friend who was so excited to show me the cool underground scene in Nashville that was much more inclusive and queer. He took me to a restaurant called The World’s End this night. It quickly became our regular weekend stopping point before going out to the gay bars. But on this first night, facing The World’s End, – which was how I was feeling about my own life at the time- we were approached by people who urged us to come to the small no frills electronics store a few doors down to witness a new band on a record release tour.
I had no clue what I was witnessing. Tiny girls all in black wearing combat boots as big as they were, stomping around in what appeared to be a fly by night store front that could have been a front for some unsavory enterprise. I didn’t know her name at the time, but Kathleen Hanna – the person responsible for the title of Nirvana’s “Smells like teen spirit” – struck a petite exclamation point in front of a glass case of car stereos and speakers shouting, “We’re Bikini Kill, and we want a REVOLUTION!” Their set was brief and full of energy. I wasn’t ready for them. I vaguely recall being handed a cassette tape as we were rushed out back onto the street as quickly as we were beckoned in. The whole experience was a whirlwind and I mostly forgot about it until several years later when the Seattle grunge sound took over American music. Bikini Kill became a musical leader within the riot girl, feminist movement, which I caught up to not too long after this experience. Looking back, I wouldn’t change a single thing about that time in my life.
The second time I saw them was during COVID 30 years later. Bands had finally started to play live shows again. We were all wearing masks in the crowd, unsure about what was happening to our world and what was to come. It was the most polite and friendly crowd I ever stood among. We cared about each other, cautiously allowing passage, speaking kindly as if we were all great friends who had survived the war, coming together to inventory who made it and who we lost in the battle. It was one of the most unexpected great shows in my personal catalog of concerts.
Last Monday night, we saw them play again, five years later. We’re all feeling, once again as if we are facing the World’s End. I was grumpy and impatient during the time between the opening act and Bikini Kill’s appearance on stage. As time passed, I started to throw a temper tantrum. I get up every morning at 4 am and I wasn’t feeling this moment. The crowd was very young and rude. There were plenty of Gen X people around us, but somehow word got out to the kids that there was an awesome group of old women who had a large voice for feminism, who are still kicking ass, angry and loud as ever. Everything I had hoped for where political awareness and music converged was beginning to take shape and I just wanted to be at home cuddling with my kitty, Henry, drifting off to sleep.
Suddenly the crowd erupted as post menopausal women wearing punked out prom dresses and electric guitars ran across the stage bursting into song.
Two notes in and I lean to my partner’s ear and say, “Totally worth it!”
Like a gunshot at the start of a race, the night was off and insane. Enthusiasm was running at a surplus and our ladies of song barely had to flip their hair to get the crowd going. Almost immediately people began slam dancing. The crowd shifted and swayed around the mosh pit like a body of water surrounding a boat, rocking violently during high tide on a full moon night. I was so happy. It was one of the best nights at the World’s End I’ve had in a very long time.
There’s nothing about hypnosis or NLP to punctuate this blog post. But there is a lot here that demonstrates how waking life and dreams actually have a lot in common if you’re paying attention. For me, there’s something magical about a loud punk feminist voice that keeps rising up when it seems like we’re standing at the World’s End. And I guess the best I can say about all of this – my takeaway is that we have always come out on the other side better and wiser, with a clearer vision of the world we want to experience. The World’s End always shows up right at the beginning of a new existence. Each time the world gives birth to an even louder, more powerful rise of the feminine. I’ll take all of this as a sign – a love note from the universe – letting us know that we’re going to be alright. I think we should all take a deep breath and channel are inner riot girls and dance into the revolution, because it is coming and it really is going to be totally worth it.
If you want to work with me and unravel the repeating themes that keep showing up in your life, reach out to me through my Contact Page. Life speaks in symbols and I understand its language. I’d love to help you translate what’s showing up for you too.