What makes a community abundant? I would argue that the appearance of abundance doesn’t necessarily translate into living an abundant life. We get used to material things, and the initial thrill of having devolves into taking them for granted. At least, it does for me.
There’s no one definition of abundance to which we can all agree. Nor should there be. Whatever it looks like, the stories we tell about ourselves these days tend to omit any recognition of abundance. It’s as though there’s a post-pandemic, polarized veneer of malaise on everything that won’t allow for it.
A legendary guitarist once said: I don’t always believe in myself, but I believe in the music I create. I get it. Some days, I even wonder why I do what I do. But then I read a story from one of our contributing writers.
Take the profile on Drew Holcomb submitted by one of my favorite go-to writers, Andrew Leahey. It’s a straightforward conversation with a straightforward guy. There’s no bling-filled, party-on-a-yacht titillation, thankfully. More like a neighborhood walk and talk recognizing, well, abundance.
The same goes for Maria Ivey’s ‘Fixin’ to Eat’ column, in which she travels to Little Kurdistan to explore one of life’s simple pleasures, one common to us all: bread.
What better way exists than breaking bread with someone to find common ground? Nashville’s Kurdish diaspora has kept the cultural traditions alive while becoming part of the city’s greater community. These aren’t mutually exclusive propositions and don’t threaten my cultural traditions.
And speaking of cultural traditions, this year marks the 20th anniversary of Tomato Art Fest. This celebration of the tomato’s rarified glory as “A uniter, not a divider — bringing together the fruits and the vegetables” was born in the spirit of abundance by a small group of community-minded folks.
Whatever your jam, life’s rich abundance is everywhere if you look closely through the lens of gratitude and listen to the stories of others.
Music is my cultural tradition (with a heavy helping of Southern cooking thrown in). Zeppelin took me to Lead Belly; Jason & The Nashville Scorchers opened me to the Sex Pistols; New Order hipped me to Grandmaster Flash. We each find a way to make traditions our own.
Happily, for me and my fair city, music is in abundance.
Live long and prosper,
