So I’ve been thinking for months about what I could say about the amazing month I spent on tour. I still have all my setlists, my ticket stubs, my pictures, and the last vestiges of a tan that – despite liberal applications of fancy French sunblock – I managed to get anyway. For the next few weeks, bear with me as I try to make sense of my experiences. I’ve waited so long now that it’s almost time for another tour (we leave 3 weeks from today!), and I can hardly wait to get back out there for another go. So I thought I’d start puzzling through my summer and building my excitement for New Year’s by sharing…

The Five Major Life Lessons I’ve Learned From Seeing Phish

1. How to live in the now: Yes, this one seems self-evident. I mean, it could be the entire point of spontaneously deciding to follow a band across the country (and learning how to be present in the moment has certainly been the bulk of my spiritual yoga training). But living in the now at shows takes on an entirely different and supremely urgent nature because part of what one sees Phish (or other bands of their ilk) for is to witness and absorb truly mind-boggling moments of musical transcendence.

No, I’m not exaggerating. My father has often said that the mountains are “his temple," and in the same vein, M and I have always considered our experiences at Phish shows to be among the most spiritual of our lives. Indeed, Trey said himself in this month’s Relix that he believes that “music is a language that gives you a glimpse of the divine.” When the band on the stage in front of you views music and their responsibilities as musicians in such an exalted fashion, the only responsibility you have as a fan is to be fully present and open throughout the entire experience (which is why I hate “yappers” and “clappers,” but that’s another entry altogether!).

2. How to stop being self conscious: When M and I were on our honeymoon in Spain, we went to see Orbital in Barcelona. The one thing I noticed during the entire show is how entirely at ease young Europeans are. None of the girls were appraising other girls in with that catty once-over American women do. No one was scoffing at my shoes, or whispering about that girl’s jeans. Everyone just let everyone else be, and it was a delightful experience to be at an electronica show surrounded by calm, happy, self-satisfied people.

Phish shows are a lot like that. When I first started seeing them, I worried way too much about what to wear: how to fit in with the “crunchy” crowd without compromising my love of clothes, shoes, makeup, etc. But when at one of the first shows I saw, I sat down in my seat before the concert started (wearing a carefully selected outfit) and the super-hippie wookie dude behind me said “Hey! Great shirt!” I realized that no true Phishhead would ever give me a malicious once-over. Since then, I’ve worn what makes me happy and comfortable at shows – everything from glitter to the same cargo pants three days in a row – and the only thing I worry about are whether my shoes are comfortable.

3. How to handle crises calmly: Heh. This is a lesson I learned mainly from dealing with stressful situations while not sober. It’s a wonderful challenge to have your world turned upside-down by some substance or another, and then try to deal with what comes your way: 19 hours of traffic, gale-force rainstorms in a small tent, porta-potties, camping on concrete, other non-sober people who can’t handle their shit, and – most notably – getting to and from the bathroom without getting lost (again, another story in and of itself, certainly not postable). When your world is right-side-up again, it makes adverse situations seem infinitely manageable.

4. How to be kind to strangers: I rant on a daily basis about how much people frustrate me. It’s hard to live two blocks from a major tourist destination in a large American city and not become irked by something or other. Strangely though, I can peacefully exist in a crowd of up to 80,000 fellow Phish fans without ever wanting to punch someone out. I think part of it is that everyone’s there for the same thing, and everyone’s happy to be there. But part of it is that people – for the most part – are generally kind to each other on tour. You sit down in your seats and introduce yourself to your neighbor immediately. You share your blanket on the lawn and your stories from last night’s show. People share everything, in fact: food, smokes, water, Advil (thank God!), gum, advice, setlists, and good cheer. The Phunky Bitches even stock the women’s bathrooms with supply kits. (In fact, the women’s bathrooms at Phish are one of the funniest, safest places to be if you’re a woman on tour.) It’s not all Woodstock-type free-love and naïveté, of course, but it’s certainly not anywhere close to the fire and riots of the 90’s version of Woodstock, either.

5. How to expect nothing (except the unexpected): By far the most important thing seeing Phish has taught me. In everyday life, I always say “Just set my expectations, and I’ll be happy.” I have a very hard time dealing with things that don’t go according to my expectations…not in a crazy control-freak way (though I do have those tendencies), but more because I’d like to be able to deal gracefully with what comes my way. (see lesson #3) But at shows, it’s the people who walk in the arena with expectations that are always going to be disappointed. Phish has many, many faces, and if you love one of them (jamming, funky, silly, raging, serious…) more than another, and you’re always looking for that style, those songs, or that feeling, you’re missing the whole gosh-darn experimental point.

The most important thing about the show to me is the music. And that’s the thing I have the least control over. Sure, there are songs I’m DYING to see (as you can read here), but if I head to Miami expecting to see them, I’m going to be mighty sad on January 1st. Not to mention the fact that they may do something completely unexpected and mind-blowing that I can’t even imagine.

And to not be open to that possibility is to not have learned anything this summer at all.