Where Your Heart Is

All our lives, most of us struggle with issues of identity.
Who am I?
Who do I want to be?
We can take classes on the subject. We go through therapy because of this. Halfway through our lives we go through a crisis. Relationships break up, bad habits are formed. Our lives can be drastically changed just by the pursuit of the answer to these sorts of questions.
And the repercussions are not always negative.
Sometimes... we run into an answer that is infinite. And we come to grips, are satisfied with, our ever-changing, fluctuating, shape-shifting, evolving self. Those of us who accept change so graciously are lucky. And few and far between.
An old Creole proverb says: "Show me who you love, and I'll show you who you are."
Perhaps it is the secret to life...
While it is important to search the inner workings of our souls, to turn inward and figure out what the heck is going on in our hearts, delving into a kingdom belonging only, and specific to ourselves. Perhaps the secret is to turn outward.

See who we surround ourselves with.
Who do we seek out?
Who, what, do we surround ourselves with?
With whom are we the most comfortable?
Where are we the most at peace?
Who do we love?

Yesterday afternoon, I spent a few hours at Keeneland. This is a tradition in my family, way before I was ever legally allowed to gamble. The past few years I have started going with friends instead of family. Yesterday, my sister, my roommate and a few friends of ours got breakfast and then drove to Versailles Road. I knew, before ever reaching the first gate, that we were in for a ride. Because of my past experiences, I knew what the expect. The traffic. The cops. The parking. The programs. The beer and hotdogs. The silks. The trust fund babies. The girls with high heels and short dresses. The expensive sunglasses. And I was comfortable, because I understood. I knew what I was in the midst of. I could determine the wealthy from the wanna-bes, the regulars from the first-timers. I knew when to go to the concession stand, how to bob and weave in the "traffic" of people. I knew when to hold my breath to keep from inhaling cigar smoke. Comfortable.

But I found myself leaving, knowing that I had enjoyed myself. That I had been able to hold my own. That, had I placed any bets, I would have won a little bit of money. But I was not at home. I did not feel like it was safe to be myself. Or that anyone around felt it was safe to be themselves either. A good place to spend the afternoon... but as we turned back onto Versailles Rd, I knew I was glad that was not my life.

After church, Caleb told me we were going on a date. "Where?" was my first question, always feeling a little apprehensive about surprises. My mind went through all the possibilities, and could not come up with anything. His eyes were bright with excitement. "Come on, " he said. "We're gonna be late! Get me to 64 east."

Those were the tell-tale words. 64 east. I started to laugh.

In Powell County, Clay City, last night there was a bluegrass concert. J.D. Crowe and the New South.

The sun had started to set. Once you're on 64 east, the landscape starts to change. Houses are farther apart. There are more cows. Less power lines. More tractors. The rolling hills of Kentucky were crowned with golden sunlight, the wind whistled through the back windows. Caleb put on his sunglasses. The sun hit our faces as we drove farther east, taking the Parkway and hanging a left, following homemade signs to the park.

We pulled into a gravel parking lot, got out and walked toward a barn. As you got closer, the gravel crunching beneath our flip flops, the sun shining off a flooded pond, you began to hear a banjo. People were standing around in Carhartt and baseball hats, drinking beer and smoking cigarettes. We walked past everyone and into the barn. Dim light, smoky air. An older woman sat at the front door with the family dog selling tickets to the show. Later, the music would start. Banjos and mandolins and fiddles. Fried apple pie and cowboy boots and banjo-pickin'. Just a group of people, no pretension. No one was putting on airs or pretending to be something they weren't. Simple people. Dirty people. People who were asking themselves the same questions I was asking. We were the same.

We left around 11pm, laughing at the strange turn of events that had landed us in Powell County on a Saturday night. The stars were bright overhead and the grass was wet with dew.

I drew the correlation on the drive home. Feeling utterly content and amused and at peace.

Who do you love?

Where is your heart?