So there’s this little event that happens every June in Nashville that causes thousands of country music fans to descend upon the city while thousands more locals turn their heads and roll their eyes. That event is CMA Fest, and it’s an event that I can’t stand to miss, even though I do pride myself on my 10+ year “honorary local” status. CMA Fest is something I talk about in one way or another every year, because every year, I go downtown for at least a day or two, and I can’t help but glean something new from it each time. That’s the joy of it, really.
This year was especially special, because my mom flew down from Ohio so that we could attend all 4 days together, like we used to. CMA Fest is important to both of us in a way that few of our friends or family can truly understand; the love for country music and its community that we discovered on our first trip to Nashville back in 2005 changed everything for us, and this felt like a fitting way to recapture some of that magic.
I don’t want to give y’all a play-by-play of every day we spent there. I don’t have a running list of every artist we saw perform, or a stack of autographs, or even a whole camera roll of pictures. Heck, I don’t even have a playlist.
What I do have is this mixed bag of happy feelings and existential crises that’s been festering for 2 months that I would very much like to share with you now.
Over the course of the festival, there was a lot of fun to be had. Mom and I got our nails done in bright pops of color, collected freebies, attended an impromptu fan club party, got matching linked bracelets, and even went to a tractor pull back in the “real” country. We traversed the throngs of people through the streets of Nashville to see a collection of female-only artists, because the men? Pfft. They’re starting to blend together.
Overall, it was a long weekend of light, freedom, adventure, and presence. And that was such a gift.
On the other hand, there was a recurring theme throughout the festival that brought back a familiar sense of longing within me. It was as if every artist had been given a press kit informing them to make sure the audience knew that whatever stage they were on was the fulfillment of a lifelong dream - they had once been a fan - “just like you!” - sitting in Section 103, or “over there, in that corner,” or standing in line at the convention center to meet Tim McGraw or Taylor Swift.
“Don’t let anyone tell you that you can’t succeed,” they said, “love what you love, and believe, and go, and do, and one day, maybe you could be here on this stage, too. Follow your dream and don’t let no one tell you different.” (I’m paraphrasing, but you get the gist.)
A few years ago, this would have felt like a sign from the heavens. Now, it just felt like a cruel reminder.
Hearing these artists’ words threw me into a tailspin. I had loved what I loved - I’d come to Nashville, I’d gotten the degree, I’d worked the internships, and then I’d worked part-time at random jobs until I got my first shot on Music Row - but then I’d gotten scared because it wasn’t all that I’d dreamed, and I quietly gave up. I guess I still carry some shame around that.
It probably didn’t help that CMA Fest came just 4 days after I returned home from my writing weekend - you know, the one in which I’d found so much supposed peace? And now, I was just as confused as ever.
To be honest, I’ve continued to battle these questions all summer long. I’ve poked and prodded and waited…but the answers just won’t come.
So for now, I’m trying to make peace with it, trying to believe that sometimes our dreams are given to us for a reason that is not the one we anticipated. Sometimes dreams mutate and grow and evolve into something that is truly meant for us - something we never could have expected. The purpose of dreams is to be chased down whatever road they lead us, and we can’t always control where that road is meant to go.
What I do know is that I’m no ordinary country music fan. I see its flaws and its potential. I don’t trust the radio so I seek out my own voices, make my own playlists, follow my own gut feelings. The soundtracks I create match my lifestyle, my beliefs, my values, my struggles. I wormhole on songwriters and producers and production schedules. I obsess over good branding and concept albums. I hold memories of walking Kacey Musgraves down a red carpet, escorting Luke Bryan between radio station interviews, eating Fireball-soaked gummy bears with The Brothers Osborne. In my own little mind, I’m not an outsider - I’m fully in it. And that’s just me, loving what I love, allowing my passion to be just that - a passion that’s made life a little more interesting, as opposed to prophesying my entire life’s meaning.
Locals may roll their eyes. Tourists may get too drunk and vomit in their expensive stadium seats. But I love CMA Fest. It brought me here. It brought me closer to my mom. It’s brought us both so much fun over the years, and will continue to do so, regardless of my place in it. Perhaps that fun is just for fun’s sake. Perhaps it’s okay that I don’t read into it too much.
But I do want to know - what do you LOVE? What makes you YOU? What’s the secret dream you’ve always held onto that you can’t help but wonder if it passed you by?