If there’s one artist whose music encapsulates specific chapters of my life, it’s Alanis Morissette. On road trips back and forth between UCSD and the Bay Area during college, I blasted and sang “Unsent” and “That I Would Be Good” which seemed appropriate as I’d gained more than 10+ lbs during my freshman year. Her songs “Torch” and “Not As We” were played on repeat during breakups, and her lyrics helped me feel understood and less alone.

When I found out she was back on tour, I immediately purchased tickets to see her with my friend at Shoreline Amphitheater. I was looking forward to this concert for months.

So imagine my surprise and disappointment when at the last minute, my friend couldn’t make it. She’d accidentally mixed up the dates of the concert and had freed up Tuesday evening instead of Wednesday. In a scramble, I asked around to see if anyone else could go. But when I slowed down to think about what I really wanted, it all became clear.

What I wanted was to make a new memory with this friend who’s been there for me through thick and thin. What I wanted was for us to sit on a lawn and have a picnic and experience the magic of a summer evening listening to Alanis’ music. What I wanted was to be reminded that life is wild and painful and beautiful and miraculous and we are here to experience it all.

So I created a new plan. She already had Tuesday night free, so I invited her to have a sunset picnic sharing a delicious meal outside in nature. We listened to Alanis’ music. We reminisced and laughed and shared old and new stories. We remembered our painful moments in life with a lightness that comes only with time and perspective.

It was everything I had wanted- just reimagined in a new way.

I traded an evening in a huge crowd cheering and singing along with one of my favorite musical artists, for a quiet picnic with one of my best friends that filled my heart more than any of Alanis’ songs could have ever done. When we take the time to consider why we’re gathering, we give ourselves a new opportunity to create meaning. The end product may look wildly different than the initial plan. One that perhaps, has the potential to be more memorable and special.

Isn’t it ironic?