Several weeks into this tour, I’ve come to realize how much positivity exists within this nomadic career. While it can be hard to maintain traditional relationships with friends and family, touring also presents unique opportunities to strengthen those relationships, even if they’re brief.
There are many days when I feel disconnected from folks back home, and even today’s technological advances can’t make up for differing schedules. Not only that, but my occasional lack of energy can certainly also contribute to making it hard to send a simple “hello” to a parent or friend.
Living on the road full-time is one of the most rewarding experiences I’ve had in my life. It is so satisfying to be able to wake up with ever-changing views, be it a retail parking lot or the venue, or essentially the backyard of Banff in Alberta, Canada. The gig comes with constant adventure and being able to mix for a living brings me immense joy, as does being immersed among other creative individuals and people who mirror similar values and expectations to mine. Saying I’m lucky is an understatement; in fact, there are no words to describe how deeply I feel about this career.
In the midst of tour currently, I find myself settling into a groove. I love it. I love the challenges, I love the places we’ve seen, and the music I’ve been able to help make. However, as the tour continues, it’s increasingly obvious how much of a gap there is between myself and the individuals I love who are not on the road with me.
Don’t get me wrong. I love being a pilgrim. Personally, wandering and making music with my road family is the most satisfactory way to spend most of the year. However, it can be difficult to navigate the interpersonal relationships you have with people back home. I miss my pets and movie nights with my roommates. I miss giggling over failed trivia nights and losing track of time in my hometown with loved ones. Feeling like you’re constantly playing catch up with people post-tour can also drag you down, and FOMO can really bite you if you’re not self-aware and grounded.
A few weeks ago, while visiting with my aunts before a show at Red Rocks, I realized how a tour can present so many opportunities for connection. We bonded over old memories, told stories, and explored a cute town in Colorado, dreaming of adventure and making plans for the future. Many more of my friends and family have made efforts to visit me across the country since then, and because of these visits, each week has brought me someone new to look forward to, whether it’s briefly on a show day or trekking around old and new cities on off days. It’s been fulfilling and enlightening, and I feel like I’ve been able to lean into the discomfort of missing individuals and exchange that discomfort for more meaningful memories. It’s been beautiful and wholesome.
I offer this as a new outlook for anyone struggling on hard days. Beyond the physical distance you may initially see, this kind of gig presents so much room for true quality time and novel memories. We get to do what you love for a living, we get to travel the world, and we get to see so many people as you do both, time permitting.