Chasing a feeling

A new kind of "peak experience" plus my Dolly Parton moment

I spent Saturday night doing something I haven’t done in nearly five years: performing on stage.

Besides singing in church a handful of times and a karaoke night here or there, I haven’t sung in front of an audience since prior to the pandemic.

Then, after a five-year hiatus, the other night I found myself performing in a tribute concert honoring Dolly Parton, one of the most talented and prolific female musicians of our time, in front of hundreds of people.

No pressure…

And while belting out our group encore of “9 to 5” with three talented women performers and friends, in front of a room of people having a blast singing along, I felt a familiar rush and thought: “There is nothing in the world more fun than this.”

All of it: the nervous backstage hilarity and hijinks, the joy of singing with a band and performing alongside other singers, the buzzy feeling of connecting with a crowd - these are all things I adore.

They’re the “peak experiences” the young folk are always talking about these days: the kind of exhilarating moments you file away for later, holding that euphoria close.

I used to chase that feeling. I couldn’t get enough of it, so I’d bop from show to show to show, performing constantly to get more of it. And not just plays and concerts, either. I was often “performing”, officially or not - at parties, in group settings, in conversation, online. I placed the highest value on the most elevated moments: the most gut-clutching hysterical laughter, the wittiest banter.

All that performing, all those transcendent moments along with their associated approval and appreciation from an “audience”, gave me energy…or so I believed.

But the other night, as I brushed the dry shampoo and hairspray and backcombing out of my hair, as I removed four layers of stage makeup, I held two thoughts at once: “That was so fun!” and also “Wow, I am exhausted.”

And not just physically exhausted, because believe me, after a full day of being on my feet, rehearsing, performing, and costume changes, there was a lot of that going on.

But I was emotionally and spiritually exhausted, too. I’d put so much of myself out there. I’d absorbed so much energy from the crowd, but I’d also given so much of it away.

I crawled into bed and barely crawled back out Sunday morning, and it took me two days to feel like myself again.

No doubt, doing this show was a blast. I hope there’s more performance in my future. It’s an essential side of my personality that thrives being given a chance to shine…

…once in a while.

But for the most part, I’m finding myself drawn to a much slower pace these days.

While I still have plenty of energy most of the time, it’s easily drained by events where I feel I have to be “on”, and replenished by quieter time and simpler pursuits, like the afternoon Eric and I spent last week foraging for mushrooms, or all the fun I’ve been having in the kitchen lately learning to make cheese and yogurt.

It’s possible this is a new reality for me: brought about by shifting hormones, a new value system, or simply being in middle age.

Or maybe it was always true, but I was too addicted to euphoria to notice.

Anyway, I’m here to experience all of it. Those peak experiences: the hysterical laughter, the elevated moments on stage belting out a favorite tune: they’re worth showing up for even if it means sacrificing some energy to achieve them.

It’s just that in this moment of my life, I’ve realized those experiences are better set aside as a rare and notable event, rather than a regular state of being.

The feelings that come along with quieter moments just seem a lot more sustainable.

The other day I created my own tea blend with wild violets I picked in the yard.

Last week I milked a goat, and this morning, my breakfast was yogurt I made from its milk, served with berries I picked and froze last summer.

Two small, lovely, somewhat unremarkable little moments, marked by satisfaction and creativity but not exactly a euphoric rush.

There was no applause. No dancing audience on their feet in the front row. No high-fives from fellow performers in the wings.

And yet, the moments were also transcendent in their own way: a quiet hum rather than a full-voiced belt, a gentle thrill of satisfaction rather than exhilaration.

These are the sort of feelings I’m chasing right now, friends.

New Podcast Episode! This week’s episode of The Tea’s Made Podcast delves more into the idea of leaning into a slow, home-based life while still creating a strong community and connected life. (Psst: I actually think this is easier to do when we simplify everything from shopping to socializing.)

I’d love to hear from you - what kind of feelings are you “chasing” in this stage of your life?