Holy fucking hell. Thirty seconds to mars concert. I’m having a hard time putting my feelings into words. This was one of the most meaningful experiences of my life to date. It was as powerful of a spiritual experience as any other I’ve ever had. I want to record my thoughts about it before I forget.

Jared Leto, the lead singer (yes, THAT Jared Leto, the crazy method actor, I still can’t wrap my head around it), is a fucking ARTIST. He comes on stage with a getup that includes a brown man bun, full beard, sunglasses, and flowing robes. He’s one part Jesus robes, one part hippy eastern shaman, and one part Steve Jobs magnetism. Not a motion is wasted, everything he does is deliberate and confident as he floats around the stage. I’ve never seen a performer work the crowd so well. He’s a cult leader and we’re eating out of his hand. He’s got us jumping, clapping, waving our arms, singing along, and we’re loving it. By the time the show is over, I’m ready to tattoo the band’s geometric logo on my body.

He invites many people on stage over the course of the evening. At one point, a young girl and her mother are invited on stage, and he tells the mother to go ahead and take a picture. On another song, a local guy that won a contest gets to play guitar with the band and fucking kills it. On another, ten or twenty local young people come up on stage and dance during the song. One guy from West Jordan is doing amazing moves like splits and backflips. For the last song, everyone wearing a certain design of band t-shirt – a white shirt with “America” upside-down – is invited on stage. Perhaps a hundred people sing along on stage with the final song, “closer to the edge.”

He wanders out among his followers, his robes evoking a savior figure. He is unafraid to spontaneously lead us in another chorus a Cappella after the end of a song and the band drops out, almost like a Buddhist chant. It’s one part worship service, one part eastern meditation in motion, one part rock band. Love and euphoria wash over me as I dance to the music, almost in tears. This is what it means to be human. To all be united in music, dance, and love for a moment in time, waving our cell phones like lighters at Woodstock, a constellation of our souls sparkling in the dark, proclaiming to the universe that life and love matter more than anything, that our existence is anything but meaningless.

This is also a man that has faced demons. They are literally mentioned in a song or two, I find subtle and not so subtle references in the lyrics to difficulty and struggle and sadness, to fighting mental illness, to having the courage to push back against the darkness, and daring to be unapologetically oneself. For an evening, our collective anxieties, depressions, and other demons take a backseat, held at bay by the power of human love and connection. For this brief time, we are all connected to each other, to the music, and to humanity itself. This is what it means to be human. These are the moments that make life worth living.

This is why I’m going to buy GA pit tickets as often as I possibly can.