Blues, Brews, and the Therapy of Friendship
This past weekend was the 31st Telluride Blues & Brews Festival—three days of music that can bring tears to your eyes and fill your soul. I’ve been going with a group of girlfriends for nearly a decade now. Different women, all from across the Southwest, ranging in age from early 40s to late 60s. Together we camp, dance, cook beautiful meals, make art, cast spells, and share what’s really going on in our lives.
The Importance of Your Lady Tribe
When I first joined this crew—well, really I invited myself—I felt so lucky to be welcomed. It’s become a rhythm in my year, a place to both let go and reconnect.
I almost didn’t go this year. Money is tight, and it felt selfish to spend on myself. But the weekend before, I found myself grieving Phen being gone, feeling overwhelmed, and honestly, a little pissed at Steve. He’s a wonderful partner, but like so many women, I carry the weight of emotional and household labor on top of work. It gets heavy. I realized what I really needed was to fill my own cup so I could keep giving to the people around me.
Mel, my best friend, had an extra ticket. I told her I needed the therapy of dance and friendship, told Steve I was going, and committed to another Blues & Brews.
The Trek & Experience
Getting to Telluride from Silverton is its own adventure—eight miles as the crow flies, but usually an hour and a half to two hours driving the long way around, especially this year with Mel’s retro Scamp camper in tow.
This wasn’t my favorite lineup musically, but we did see my boyfriend Lukas Nelson and the badass Samantha Fish. And while the weather tested us—flood watches and on-and-off downpours Thursday through Saturday—we had one of our best camps yet. Warm sleeping bags, cozy tents, a fire under our tarp “living room,” a dialed-in camp kitchen, and (praise be) real bathrooms close by so we could avoid the port-a-lets. People with Airbnbs just don’t get it—the real magic is in Town Park. Close enough to walk back and forth, refill your drink, and even catch music from the campsite. Some of the best sets happen at the campground stage anyway.
Music is Medicine for the Soul
Saturday night, when Lukas played, the skies cleared and magic happened. His voice, his presence—it’s no wonder, given who his father is, but Lukas is carving his own way. By Sunday, I felt myself settle. My nervous system regulated, my body in the flow—just listening, dancing, being. Exactly what my soul needed.
Silvertonians love to say, “We can’t become Telluride.” But honestly, each time I go, I think: what’s so bad about Telluride? Trails right in town, good restaurants, world-class music, amenities, a real economy. No, I don’t want Silverton to become Telluride, but I wouldn’t mind a few of those upgrades.
And then, it’s always good to come home. On Monday, unpacking, I found myself folding away my summer clothes and tucking them under the bed. The leaves are turning, snow touched the peaks this weekend, and fall is here. Winter is right behind. No sense resisting. Better to flow.
