Witchy Woman

It seems like an LA tradition to attend a performance at the Hollywood Bowl every summer. I didn't make it this year, but with temperatures out here still in the 70-100 degree range, going last night seems to count. Actually, it ended up being the first time I'd ever been to the Bowl that I made it through the entire night without even putting on my jacket! (Climate change seriously sucks. We never got much in the way of seasons, but 100-degree weather in October is just exhausting.)

We went to see Florence and the Machine, and she was amazing. Dressed in what was basically a white leisure suit with a bronze-colored floaty blouse underneath (and barefoot!), she seemed to transport us all back to about 1972 on a wave of love and shared-consciousness. In the past, I've said that when you see Springsteen live in concert, he takes you to the Church of Bruce; by the same token, this was the Orgy of Florence.  She encouraged us to "get as high as we possibly can"; to hug our neighbors, touch their faces, tell them we loved them; and to take off an article of clothing, wave it like a flag, and jump up and down. And we did. Carried along by Florence, we celebrated each other and our town and life and love.

I'm a science girl: I don't believe in crystals or homeopathy or psychics. But I do want to believe there are things out there we just haven't explained yet, and I feel like the energy you experience as part of a crowd must be one of them. We went to see Florence, and for all the energy she put in to give us her performance, it felt like we were giving it back to her as well, in cheers and applause and breathless attention.

So here's some energy for a lazy Sunday, in the form of a song Florence told us was inspired by, and dedicated to, this crazy, frustrating, wonderful town of mine.