2023, a reflection. — lowndes commander

it’s that time again— december’s here and marching on as its wont to do. and with its marching, comes the cyclical stirring in me to look back— at my camera roll, my playlists, my heart and disposition. and this year, my first instinct is to question, how are we here and now already? it still feels like it’s 2020 and we’re all on the precipice of something that won’t be snuffed out… i don’t do this often enough anymore; excavate and examine and exercise my fingers on a keyboard (or in a notebook, for that matter). but i love this time of year, with its gimmicky sparkles and best intentions. and i’ll keep joining the chorus of reflection as long as i’ll let me.

on the first day of 2023, i hung out with a litter of puppies, boosting my serotonin as high as it could fly. and a few days later, i found the most beautiful banded tulip (sans creature) i’ve ever seen, a string of good signs i was glad to hold onto in the midst of ‘more of the same.’ it was a new year, but i was still clocking in to the same jobs on the same days, still combing the beach for treasure, still…me.

to get out of a lingering bout of restlessness, i pressed ‘purchase’ on a resale ticket for a show at the Ryman and made the long february drive to sit in a pew and sing songs about the complicated nuances of returning home. i felt it in my bones, alone and alive. i had coffees, meals, and drinks with friends— the way it ought to be. and i’d like to think i drove home like new, doused in a snifter of amaro and new perspective.

as winter trudged on, i leaned into the magic of having something to look forward to, all the while trying to press into everyday moments as they whirred on by: midday ice-skating, a thoughtfully cooked valentines dinner with the best person i know, a road trip to a tiny show in north carolina to hug a friend and dance along.

by springtime, i’d feel full in the way i’m always chasing: small under the snowcapped mountains of montana, laughing ‘til we cried as a stetson flew off into the riverbank. soaked to the bone in a nosebleed seat singing along with taylor swift ‘til 2am. fresh in love on a long weekend at the starlight, the taste of Lewandowski’s rose cuvee still on my lips.

summer was sticky with southern heat, work’s busy season punctuated with beach days, jumping in the ocean just to cool off. we’d drink mai tais and sour beers and espresso tonics, play at the arcade with the tourists, get out of town when we could. just as the heat began to lift a bit, i found myself in new york again, the timing serendipitous— a walk to la cantine for tea and toast each morning, late night pizza and all-day cheerses, a few nights seeing friends play their songs, a little like old times. i developed my first roll of film in a long time and felt new again.

the rest of 2023 played out like a song that comes on at just the right time— las jaras on the boardwalk at sunset, too many baseball game hot dogs, a weekend in wilmington ft. walks for coffee and beer and some of the best meals i’ve ever had. making the rounds of nashville firsts, lasts, and favorites, squeezing every ounce out of each day, because what the hell else could be more true and right? there was halloween weekend in rhode island with some of the best, narragansetts on a boat at sunset and feather boas at the bar after dark. and then, there were christmas parties and dog cuddles and laughing under a blanket, looking up at the stars, thinking with all its stops and starts, mundanity and excitement, this life can be quite alright.

and like it was meant to be, before the year ended, i found myself singing those same songs i sang in that pew back in february, only this time i sat close, and i wasn’t alone. i let go and scream-sang along, teary, with a whole new year of life behind me. i’m 28 now, and by this point maybe i thought i’d have kept taking more photos and writing more books that might be seen and read by more people ( i still could!). but for now, what i’ve got is this small corner of the internet with my grainy photos and rambling end-of-year reflections i do to celebrate and remember it all. and for that, i choose to be grateful, open, and full of something like hope.

BEST OF 2023

RECORDS (favorite track)