What lies below the surface

A few weeks ago I had the opportunity to tour the Eastside Access, which is a huge public works project, building tunnels 120 feet below the surface in order to move people in and out of Manhattan.  It won’t actually be open until 2019.  I was able to visit as part of my work, since one end of the tunnel is behind my organization’s building, thus as part of a courtesy of having to deal with blastings and the whole building shaking on occasion, we get a tour on occasion.

The tour itself wasn’t all that exciting – I mean, you’ve seen one tunnel, you’ve seen them all.  Or something like that…

BUT – it was pretty amazing to see this huge tunnel UNDERNEATH THE STREETS OF NYC.

LIKE – MIDTOWN NYC.  WHERE THERE ARE HUGE BUILDINGS!!!!!!!

The man kept saying that they tunnel celing was not holding up the buildings, that the street did that.  But….  I’m no engineer, but doesn’t the street hold up the buildings, and the tunnel hold up the street, so therefore…  ergo, the tunnel holds up the buildings?  Am I right, or am I right?!

Well…  apparently not, according to mr. fancy-pants tour guide.

Oh, and we got to wear safety glasses, safety vests and hard hats.  Always a good time.

But, what I was most struck by is – how much must lie below the surface of this city that I have no idea is there.  No idea what lies below the surface.

 I’ve been thinking a lot about what lies below our surface.  What is below what we see every day.

I spend a lot of time on the subway – Brooklyn to Long Island City, Brooklyn to Washington Heights, Brooklyn to Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn to Lower East Side.  And that’s just for work.  Some people ride the subway in their own world, listening to their devices, plugged in-tuned out.  But me?  Oh, I’m that people-watcher.  Listening to conversations (sometimes known as eaves-dropping).  Spending lots of time listening, watching and seeing what is on the surface.  But do I really know what is going on?

Like all good New Yorkers, I have a therapist.  We spend lots of time figuring out what’s below my surface, things I haven’t wanted to look at.  Ever.  Gah, it’s that ugly, private stuff…. But there we are, exploring that.  Turns out I am full of cracks and far from perfect (I know that, but I don’t want anyone else to know).  There’s that whole – those-who-live-in-glass-houses-should-not-throw-rocks-bullcrap.  Whatever…..

And for most of my life, I have looked at others and judged them at face value.  Mostly this has happened with friends of mine who I think are pretty rad, and I think – wow, their lives must be pretty perfect.  Look at them in their great job, their great relationship, their great family.

And then….when you’re wrong, you’re wrong.

I sat with a friend a few weeks ago who told me tales of her father being an alcoholic.  Functional, but still….  And then another friend told me of her mother just not being part of her life from an early age.  These are friends who I envy their lives – their relationships, their jobs, their happiness.

Turns out, none of us have a perfect life.

Huh.

‘There’s a crack in everything.  That’s how the light gets in’

-Leonard Cohen

So, I’m learning to go slowly.  To try to figure out what’s below the surface in others, in me, before I judge.

Or maybe….  Just let go of judging all together and just let the cracks be – because they let the light in.

Autumn in NYC

This weekend was one of those ones that make you glad you live in the Northeast…  I love the fall!  Instead of blabbering on about my weekend, I am going to tell the story with a photo-essay

Sunset over NYC skyline

Celebrating a friend’s 30th birthday with a full moon birthday ride

salsa and chips on pier 66 with a full moon rising

new work at 5ptz

love warrior

more love

pipe dreams

take a bite out of the apple

Sunday morning bike ride up through Brooklyn to Roosevelt Island

UN

Not pictured….

• An amazing photo exhibit on the water front, all in shipping containers featuring photographers from all over.  Some of the images brought tears to my eyes.
• A block party with the neighbors.
• Farmer’s market with apples, swiss chard, delicata squash and cider donuts.
• Some good walks in the sun, through the park, smiling at strangers – all of us rejoicing in the blue skies and beautiful weather.
• Papusas from the Red Hook El Salvadorian food truck.

It was a good weekend.  

Have I mentioned how much fun this life is?

One year here

All of a sudden it was July 31st.

Which meant that I had been here for a year.  Which meant that i made it through my first year of my new job.  And my first year in NYC.  And not just made it through, I had a ton of fun!  I never would have guessed that I would like it this much.

Here are some of the things I did this past year:

• Saw a lot of awesome street art

Long Island City

• Found routines – like morning walks by the public housing building near my house and seeing all the Vietnamese residents doing exercises in the backyard – just like I saw in the mornings in vietnam
• Roller derby in coney island

Coney Island Roller Derby. We rooted for Brooklyn. Naturally.

• Learned the subway system (after some disastrous starts)
• Biked out to Coney Island

Coney Island’s kind of scary

not sure what this ride was… well, I could imagine, but I don’t want to ride it

• Ate lots of good food — kind of like when I traveled.  Legit South India, Vietnamese, papusas (my new favorite!), tacos
• Took a spanish class – and then forgetting a whole lot of it – but making some good friends in the class!
• Put myself out there to make new friends and try new things (checking out live music, going dancing, joining groups) – which sounds like a small thing – but not being a joiner makes it hard!  But – happy to say, I have a group-ish of friends now, people I can call up to go out with, people I can go ride bikes with, people who will go drink mezcal with me (to read more about my new obsession, see below), people will want to go hiking
• Discovered the craft beer scene in Brooklyn (luckily one of the really good bars is right near my house)
• Also discovered that I am a big fan of tequila and mezcal drinks (NYC has no shortage of fancy cocktails — like the night I went to a bar focused on experimental cocktails and had some crazy tequila and mezcal drinks — all for the low low price of $16 each!)
• Survived my second year of being car-free (last year probably doesn’t fully count) – though I do miss escaping out to the mountains.
• Found places to get fresh veggies and good bagels and awesome coffee – and all those other things that make routine a good thing

And so much more….

 

So much fun to be had!

 

When I was traveling, I was limited by time, but was free without a plan – so I would move on when I felt I was ready, when I wanted a new adventure.  Though there is still a fire inside of me, wanting to see the world, wanting to climb mountains and trek through foreign lands, there is still so much here for me to explore –  I feel like I barely touched the surface.  How fun – to know that I still have so much more to do here?

I am still grounded in knowing I am in the right place, at the right time.

Solo travel in India

I spent two months traveling alone in India.  This fact is not groundbreaking.  No one is writing a book about me.  I am not the first to have done this, and nor will I be the last.

But lately, I have been thinking of it a lot due to all the news coming out of India of sexual harassment (here is a good synopsis of some of the reports).  But, like a lot of women, my experience in India was overwhelmingly positive.

I traveled by train and bus.  I was scammed at times, stared at constantly, followed a few times.  I put myself in places where things could go wrong.  But they didn’t.

the masses

Now — let me be clear — I am not very tall (at 5’6″ certainly not all that much taller than Indian men and women) and at the time, my skin was pretty brown and with my dark eyes and hair, I certainly did not stick out.  No one ever guessed that I was from the US.  I was even told that I could pass as Indian by more than one Indian.

And my skin color and hair color and the fact that I did not go out at night and did not wear revealing clothes probably helped.  But it also probably helped that I smiled.  A lot.  That I made eye contact and tried to connect with people.  I had a belief that if you see me, if you see me as a person, you will not hurt me.

I live in NYC now.  I hear on the news stories of women being followed off the train and getting raped.  I hear stories on the news of people being shot in neighborhoods not far from mine.  I am more afraid here than I ever was in India.  In India, I never worried that someone was carrying a gun.  In India, I was never looked up and down in quite the same way as I am here.

This is not an India problem.  This is a problem of how women are viewed and treated – everywhere.

Local wanderings

the name says it all

Last weekend, I spent an afternoon wandering Greenpoint with a friend.  Even though I am coming up on my one-year anniversary in NYC, there is still so much more to explore.  I am finding my way around these days, and can somewhat navigate the subway system, but there is still so much more to explore!

One of my favorite things to do when traveling is just to wander around and see cities by foot.  I spent so much of my time in India, Vietnam and South America just wandering.  Visiting different neighborhoods, wandering into coffee shops, trying to get a glimpse of what life is like.  In NYC, it is no different.

But, one of the things that I particularly like to do in NYC is to check out all of the street art, as it is amazing, free and abundant!  And Greenpoint did not disappoint.  First off, it is on the water, which was pretty cool to check out.

the view from Greenpoint

And there were a bunch of abandoned buildings that were great tableaus for local artists.

Here are some more pictures from Greenpoint — come check it out!

 

During my visit to San Francisco, I will be on the look-out as well.

Glimpses of humanity

As I pushed through the turnstiles, I saw the last lights of the train disappearing into the tunnel, the letter too distant to read. Was it the express or the local?  How quickly could I get to my next meeting?  It was one of those days when I wished I had an office, having spent the morning going from Chelsea to Midtown and now I was off to Crown Heights in Brooklyn before meeting a friend in Chinatown later.  My to-do list wasn’t shrinking as the day went on and I was just wishing for a few hours of focused work, which wasn’t about to come my way.

making my way through the city

As I cursed just missing the train, I noticed a couple waiting near the rear of the station, surrounded by their bags.  I noticed the man first as he had his hair and beard dyed red in a typical fashion with some men in India.  While I observed their luggage surrounding them, I barely made note of it and walked further up the station to kill time waiting for the next train.

A few minutes later, that felt like an eternity as I paced back and forth, the local train rushed into the station.  I got into the last car and saw the couple running down towards the train.  The woman blocked the door as the man shouted ‘Brooklyn?  Nwerudadlfhod?’.  He shouted it again, looking around for a response.  One or two people nodded, having heard, and understood, Brooklyn.  But that other word?  Where else was he looking for?

Finally, another man said, ‘Nostrand?’, and the Indian man nodding emphatically   Ah, I sighed with relief, now I know where they are going.  Now I could help.

At each stop, the man looked around him and asked, loudly, ‘Brooklyn?  Nostrand?’, and though still difficult to understand, now I sought out his face, willing him to look my way so I could shake my head, ‘no, no this is not your stop’.  Instead, I made eye contact with the woman and shook my head with a smile.  She smiled back at me, understanding I was there to help.  At each consequent stop, she looked to me, knowing I was there to help.  Meanwhile her husband still searched around him, not connecting with any one person, yet still wanting help.

I wanted to waggle my head at her, in that Indian fashion, to have her know that I was someone she could trust.  I know you, I see you, I am here to help.  Eventually we got to their stop and several people indicated to them that this was where they needed to get off the train.  Off they went.  The woman smiled her thanks to me as the train pulled out of the station.

smiles from students in india

 

I sat back, relaxing on the rest of my ride, feeling the tiniest bit of community with those around me.  Though we hadn’t really connected, there was a crackle of connection in the air.  Several of us had helped that Indian couple, giving directions, reassuring them they were going to the right stop.  NYC is known for it’s tough exterior, the walls that get put up.  People live in their own worlds, headphones on, disconnecting to those around them.  But, moments like these, when humanity breaks through, it makes me love this city a little bit more.  Underneath it all, we all really do want to connect.

Surprises

Sometimes the push is worth it.  This weekend, I headed out to Bushwick for the Open Studios art weekend.

Being the daughter of a writer and an artist, I have been around wildly creative people my whole life – and appreciate the commitment, talent and tenacity it takes to be an artist.  At the same time, I have not made my community to be one of artists and craftspeople.  So visiting studios and seeing people’s work is a bit like coming home for me.

I saw some amazing art work this weekend – from some amazing paintings by Tim Okamura that blew my mind a little (portraits of women as boxers, though the women themselves are not boxers, with butterflies in the background – I am SO not doing it justice, but if you can – check out his work) to wooden sculptures that were … well, kind of like cranes – with counterweights of various materials.  And these sculptures were all different sizes, including one that stretched across half of the wall.  I am not doing either of these mens’ work justice – but trust me, it was wildly impressive.

But the highlight of the day?  Well, Tim and his work was definitely high up there, but… the street art in Bushwick.  It blew my mind.  Here are some samples of what I saw.

get there.

Living whole-hearted

As I approach the one year anniversary of coming back to the states, there is a swirl of emotions and thoughts circling my mind.  I read this quote the other day and it spoke to me – and my need to live full-whole-heartedly.

“Never touch anything with half of your heart. Be present, endlessly loving and compassionate towards others. Confront any challenging situation first with a deep breath. Wander. Remember that your own happiness and comfort comes above all things. Before reacting—understand. Eat breakfast every morning. Find the faces in the flowers. Remember what is important to you. Treat your body kindly. Be honest. Get to know yourself. Take things at your own pace. Don’t feel embarrassed to feel, laugh, cry, sing or love. Remember that what’s right for someone else may not be what is right for you (and that’s okay). Never be ashamed or afraid to ask for help. Do what you love. Remember that you always have a choice. Find joy in what life really is—living.”  (Author unknown)

I haven’t figured out how to do it yet, not fully, but trying to remember, trying to keep it in the forefront of my mind.  Trying to live with a whole heart.

Gratitude. part dos

Last week when I wrote about making a list of what I am grateful for in this past year, a few folks asked about that list.  So — here is a portion of that list, in no particular order (the numbers are there just because I like lists, not because of priority).

38 things I am grateful for:

1.  My mom and dad for encouraging me and supporting me to follow my dreams, accepting that my path is not as straight as others.  Though it hasn’t always been smooth sailing, I am ever so thankful for their inspiration, acceptance and support.

2.  Katherine – my buddy in adventures.  We have skied the Chic Chocs, bed down in the whites, climbed some pretty high mountains and have hiked countless number of miles together.  I feel lucky to have a friend who will go on such adventures with me – and cannot wait to plan the next one!

katherine and I on top of mt. whitney

3.  My job.  I do work that I care about, work that I believe makes the world a better place.  Work that makes me think and pushes me to be my best self.

4.  My mentors.  I am lucky to have some pretty great mentors, people who are looking out for me, who have given me guidance along the way and have inspired me in my work.  Thanks Steve, Julie H., Sue, Lily and Meg (among others).

5.  India – for reminding me of the goodness of people and the beauty of humanity and that, ultimately, the world is a good place full of good people.

Couldn’t speak any common language, but we could understand enough

6.  Hope.  Ultimately, I am full of hope, even when I try to hide that hope.  Hope makes us vulnerable.  It makes us trust.  It opens us up.  Sometimes all that is scary – but as much as it scares me, I cannot deny that is who I am.

7.  Climbing, trekking, skiing, backpacking, hiking, walking – being outside and active (and not hurt – unlike right now…..  which I hate.  I hate being hurt.  oh, wait – wrong list).

8.  Mountains – for keeping me dreaming.

one of the many, many mountains i dream of climbing

9.  My brother.  We’re just under two years apart, went to the same school — all the way to college – together.  Now we live on different sides of the country, but every time we get together we laugh and have fun.  But, can’t leave out my other brother who is much younger, but is well on his way to leading an interesting life himself.

10. My bestest girlfriends.  I am beyond lucky that I have an amazing group of girl friends.  Yogatara, Jessica, heather, susan, cynthia, tracy, smak, cara, meggy, jessica.  These women make me laugh, feed my soul, listen to me complain, let me cry on their shoulders and tell me to shut up when I need to hear that.

weekend in the berkshires – look how much we love hanging out with each other!

11.  Bucket lists.  Biking around the world?  Climbing a mountain over 20,000 feet?  Living in another country?  Becoming fluent in spanish?  Being in Thailand for a sky lantern festival?  Trekking in remote Nepal?  Yes, don’t mind if I do.

12.  Laughter.  The world keeps me endlessly amused.  I like to laugh – often and loud.  In fact, one of my students use to make fun of my laugh because it was so loud.  awesome.  keep it coming.

13.  Books.  Fiction, specifically.  And lots of it.

14.  Patagonia – for make me yearn for wild places.  Patagonia – will you marry me?

i am in love….

15.  Peru – for offering me lessons when I needed them.  For its beautiful people, its passion, its landscape, its rich history.  I might cheat on patagonia for peru.

16.  The universe – what a grand, amazing world this is conspiring each and every day to remind me how great it is.

17.  My journey.  As unpredictable as it has been, as winding, and messy and twisty it is, what a great journey it has been.

18.  Surprises and magic.  Last year when I was traveling – each thing that happened, that seemed wrong and bad — ultimately it would all turn out to be ok, even great.

yahoooooo

19.  Open heart.  See #6.  Open heart and hope and vulnerability — all tied up.  And I am ever thankful that I am on this journey to keep my heart open (with varying success along the way).

20.  Wisdom.  As I get older, the more wisdom I get.  I have a long way to go, but it is one thing about getting older that I love.

There’s more.  Another 18 on the list (whoa, that makes me feel old), but you get the idea…..

Thanks world.

sleeping through a storm

There’s a story we sometimes tell on Outward Bound courses about sleeping through a storm.  It’s a story about a farmer and how this farmer is able to sleep through a storm because she does everything right the first time, she prepares for the oncoming storm by being ready.  And it is a good story for teenagers — to help them to think about planning ahead and not being reactive.

But, in the wake of Sandy’s destruction on the East Coast and this new place I call home, I could not help but think of this story. And how false it was.

Because it didn’t really matter how much prep you did.  It didn’t matter if you evacuated or not.  Because the storm still came and if your house was in her path, it did not matter.

And at this point, I am sure you have read all about the destruction and seen pictures (and if you haven’t, you probably aren’t reading this since your access to the interweb must be fairly limited).  And it would also be silly for me to reflect on it because I was not impacted.  At all.

Funny how I could be so close and yet – so far – from the impacted sites.  Coney Island, a mere mile away (maybe?), has been horribly impacted.  But here?  Sure, there were trees down in the park.

one of the over 7,000 trees that the city lost

But the night of the hurricane?  I hung out on the porch of a neighbor and had wine and whiskey and beer (well, not all of that, but it was available).  And later that night, my lights flickered.  But I never lost power, never even lost connection to the world wide web.

And so, like I have done so many times in this past year, I reflected on just how lucky I am.  Just how blessed I am.

Because there were trees that came down in my neighborhood.  And there  as a couple who was out walking and a tree fell on them and killed them.  And there are people who lost their homes.  And people who are still without power.

And I don’t mean that to sound as obnoxious as it might.  Because now I realize, it is not just about being prepared for the storm.  Instead, it is about being ready to accept what comes your way, to be ready to do the hard work that your situation asks for.

And it is remembering, always, to feel blessed.  and lucky.