BUTTE, MT: I knew there was history in Butte but I didn’t realize we’d have the opportunity to be so fully immersed in it. Butte is a mining town, and at one point was one of the most wealthy communities and largest populations of Irish immigrants in the US. We were given our day-long tour by a retired miner, Jim, who rented a large vehicle specifically for the excursion. He came equipped with laminated maps and spoke both proudly and heartbreakingly about his mining experience in Butte. Miners’ lives were treacherous and frightening, to say the least. I felt a little dizzy as all 7 of us bandmates were being squeezed into a tiny cage to see how the miners would have felt as they were lowered thousands of feet into the ground. They worked tirelessly in the dark for a full day, and then re-emerged to walk home in frigid temperatures to lonely, single rooms. The emotional magnitude of the history and physical magnitude of the machinery rendered me silent and useless… and I couldn’t figure out why. I wanted to smile and absorb all his amazing information, but I just couldn’t.

That afternoon I sat on a hill overlooking Butte and let myself reflect for a moment. This was the morning after a festival after-party which involved playing tunes with great musicians late into the night, a big show on a hill overlooking the mountains before the night before that, and a 6-mile hike through the most beautiful parts of the country before that… not to forget the countless amazing meals, smiling faces, and conversations in between.

I was maxed out. It had been several weeks of feeling to such an intensity and extremity that I just couldn’t feel much more. I had absorbed so much scenery, so many landscapes, stories, people… and was now hearing the agony and incredible feats of the Irish miners. My cup was full.

I spent a few more days thinking about this, and my future goal isn’t to slow down or avoid experiences, it’s simply to be aware of this tendency and make some accommodations. More of a good thing isn’t always a good thing, but in this case my awareness relieved me of the confusion and discomfort of feeling numb to the experience. My cup was full of beautiful things, but full, nonetheless.
To cope, I take lots of notes and pictures in the moment to later aid my reflection, and now know to prioritize taking a few days off specifically to drain my thoughts and feelings into sleep, writing, and music. This offers me relief in the moment, and I trust that the memories and lessons will still be there when it’s time to unpack them. (Here’s another post with more of my strategies)

I mentioned in an earlier post that I’m an HSP (highly sensitive person). We HSP’s are highly empathetic, intuitive, and feel experiences, energies, and emotions with a heightened intensity. When someone tells me a story after a show, gives me a hug, compliments me, or comes to me with a problem, I brace myself for its monumental effect. I feel what they feel, vividly. I love this characteristic about myself and find this intensity of emotion incredibly pleasurable (it’s why I’m a musician), but it means that it’s not uncommon to find me crouched amongst flowers shedding tears about how “beautiful the pinks in its petals are,” or hugging the cashier at the grocery store who shared how bad her day was (my band can vouch for this.) In this case, it found me overlooking Butte, MT feeling overwhelmed and numb.  I had to acknowledge that my brain and heart can’t capture the quantity and magnitude of these experiences in such a short amount of time without mindfulness, documentation, and carving intentional time to reflect and breath.

Big thanks to Jim and the town of Butte for being such beautiful hosts.
Take care of yourselves, drriifters. 💙🌏💨

Diana

Montana Playlist ⬇️