I want to be a part of it.

Stepping off NJ transit last night, out into the flurries, out into the cold, the noise, the crisp winter air, the lights, the traffic, the tourists mucking up maneuverability on the sidewalks, the ease with which profanity left my lips when my bag would stall in a crack or someone got in my way or said something obnoxious, standing in line for a taxi and then my driver hitting on me, telling me not to let anyone else drive me up to Connecticut this weekend (I am not going to Connecticut this weekend), spending the night in some body's loft, I had to ask myself:

Why did I ever leave New York?

I went to yoga this morning (one of the perks of being home is actually subbing at my old work, which is great as I need monies and some peace of mind indeed) and someone came in right before class started and asked me to move my mat so they could fit. Instantly I was full of resentment--"Why didn't you get here earlier? Why don't you ask somebody else to move? Don't you understand the nature of New York real estate, bitch?" I'm a volatile yogini, I know. Of course I moved, but having that moment of spite for something as simple as that reiterated for me the fact that people don't change. They really don't. I'm still the same hyper-competitive, driven, incredibly susceptible to stress girl that I was when I left. I still have the same prejudices (Seriously: I hate it when people ask me to move my mat. HATE. IT.), still enjoy the same things, the same company, and still miss the same people I seem to have misplaced. You can take the girl out of New York, but...

I haven't adjusted to England yet. There are too many parts of myself that I'm not certain what to do with in terms of that city. The truth is, there I will always be an outside: an American with a different urban sensibility who talks funny. And here, well, I'm exactly what makes up this place.

Still, New York doesn't feel like home anymore. Events have happened in my friends' lives that I haven't been around for, and other things (people included) have simply moved on without me. And it's not like I actually have a home here. The biggest "Huh" moment I had leaving London was looking at my empty key ring. My parents had just moved (again) and I didn't have a key to their new home, and there were of course no apartment keys resting there, having waited months for use again. I had already turned in my halls keys to the front desk when I checked out, in an effort to get reimbursed for the days I would not be staying there. So there I was, without any ties to any place. And it was strange. New York feels familiar--like some old lover we can pick up the dance right where we left off. But it's not home. And neither is England--not yet, anyway.

And where is the art in this discussion? Non-existent it seems. Except that your surroundings influence your output, and having a place to rest is the first step to being able to think clearly. And thinking clearly helps you see, and create, and all that good stuff. I left New York because I felt stifled, artistically and in life generally. In England I feel mostly lost and alone, but on the brink of something great that I can only discover by myself (for some reason, this last bit seems to be the most true thing I know), though in part aided by others. So how do you make art that is grounded in anything, when you yourself are not? And what changes that?

I guess we'll find out.

"Should I Stay Or Should I Go Now?"

Liza Cucco, fellow soon-to-be-ex-patriot, herself going to London to get her masters in art this fall, expressed the other day in a Facebook note her wariness regarding the move. So much wariness in fact, that she is considering deferring for one year in order to work and save up money to pay off the mounting debt from the student loans she'll have to take on. I'm worried about loans myself, and as I've been fortunate to not have one yet, the whole concept is foreign to me. What is a loan? Where can I get one? Who gives them out? What's a private loan versus other kinds of loans? What loan will get me the most money without killing me with interest later on? Or killing me with repaying it? These questions I ask myself, shaking in my bed in a cold sweat. It's okay though--it's been so humid lately, I happy for the relief. Even if it is giving me an ulcer.

I have a friend whose minimum monthly payment for his undergrad loan is $1,000. He's just 24 years old, a struggling actor (read: waiter), and I'm not sure he knows how he's going to get out of this. And I don't envy him. Now, granted, he disappeared for a bit, hitchhiking through Canada for several months in a row last year, doing odd jobs just to cover food and other small expenses, so it's not like he made himself available to take care of this financial situation back in the states. But it's sad to think that five or so months of precociousness could screw you that much.

I guess that's adulthood.

I myself have been feeling the growing pains a lot lately, falling away from the parental safety net (or rather, out of it), grappling with the fact that I will actually have to really take care of myself this time around, so far away from everything and everyone I know, save Heidi. I have enough money to cover my tuition and a little extra, but if the market continues on this trend--and most likely it will--that money's going to decrease before I get over there, leaving me with an even greater housing bill. School is only meant to take up 25 hours a week, so if I can get a job on top of that, it would be helpful. But I worry about my flagrant lack of responsibility--I sometimes act as if, if I could avoid taking any, I could avoid growing up. But that's ridiculous, of course. And I suppose now's the time to stop all this foolishness.

Still, the thought from Liza was beating on the sides of my brain the other day. If I had the chance, would I stay? I considered it for a little bit--the whole quandary reminded me of the song Banjo sings in The Man Who Came To Dinner (hence the picture of Jimmy Durante at the head of this entry), one of my all time favorite plays/play-to-movie adaptations. But my answer is a resounding "NO!" I feel lately I don't have any reason to stay--New York bores me, America bores me, my job bores me, realism bores me, drama (personal people kind) bores me. I feel totally uninspired and the malaise that's settled around me is the worst. I remember a single thought that kept resonating with me largely throughout this past winter, that I may have mentioned before, which was that I wanted something so new I couldn't even name it. And I think this thing, this whole journey that is still a big mystery in so many ways, I think that's it. So even though I have a feeling that I want to stay, I have to yield to the feeling of wanting to go. Even though the song is opposite. And I really do love that song!

I'm trying to get my visa app done by the end of next week. Wish me luck.

NY Event Number Twelve: Practicing yoga in Times Square.

About five years ago, the Times Square Alliance decided they would celebrate the more neglected of the two Solstices. The Winter Solstice arrives on December 21st, but is often grouped in with the celebration of various holidays, and of course Times Square's biggest yearly event, New Year's Eve. However, the Summer Solstice, particularly in Western culture, usually goes by unnoticed--presumably because its celebrants were predominately pagan and that just didn't mesh with main-stream Puritanical rule. So any rituals that went along with the day were squelched over time and/or forgotten. The idea was to commemorate the longest day of the year, and give the sun its due for helping sustain our lives. So the TSA founded an event where yoga (the physical practice of which of course includes a linked sequence of asanas called surya namaskar, or "sun salutation") would be practiced throughout the day in order to do just that. At the first year of this event literally one person showed up. This year, at the first class of the day, 8:00AM on a Saturday morning, I practiced on the island in Times Square between 44th and 43rd street, bordered by Broadway and 7th Ave. I was one of 300 people there just for that class.

I heard about the function last year from Douglass Stewart, an instructor at the studio I work at and one of the teachers I practice under whenever I get the chance. Douglass actually co-founded the event, and after I missed last year I was determined to make it--especially as I don't know when I'll be back here for the Solstice again.

It was a lot of fun. The TSA had a number of sponsors for the day, who all contributed to large yellow goody bags that were stocked with items that included a Solstice t-shirt, Snapple antioxidant water, Fiji water, Body Shop samples, and several SoyJoy bars--and none of which were the dreaded Mango bar, which I find personally disgusting. The first 500 people at the event (of which I was one) also got a free mat from Danskin, which was too slippery to practice on there, but will no doubt break-in after a light vinegar wash.


I did the first class of the day and the final class of the day, greeting the sun coming up (I actually woke up at five that morning, so yes: I literally did this thing) and saying goodbye to it in the evening. The evening class was particularly cool because we started at sunset, and by the time we were done with our meditation and svasana, the sky was lit only by the lights in the Square. (I was actually in my meditation, sensing these flashing lights beyond my closed eyes, and thought I was on the brink of discovering something--but of course it was just an ad for Inspired by The Bible Experience.)


Tranquility is hard to find, no doubt, especially in this city of over eight million people. Yoga is about balance, part of which comes with balancing the mind. Like the second sutra of Patanjali tells us, "The restraint of the modifications of the mind-stuff is Yoga," leading us to the third sutra, "Then the Seer [Self] abides in His own nature." It's a challenge to do this at anytime in the city, but like the ad above asks, "Can you find it in Times Square?" And I did. Somehow having everything else going on around me allowed me go into a deeper space of self. Aside from the occasional loss of focus (looking up in trikonasana and seeing what I can look forward to on upcoming episodes of Grey's Anatomy), it was definately one the more enjoyable practices I've had in a while.

I saw a lot of people I knew at the event--teachers, clients, and friends, (and this super model--I am NOT kidding {Boys: do more yoga. You will meet women.}) and I feel blessed to have been able to be a part of this NY yoga community for my time. These individuals have taught me a lot about life and myself, and I hope I can honor those lessons in the time to come, no matter what side of the pond I'm on. Namaste, my friends.

(NOTE: All photos, except for the Solstice ad itself, were taken by Cathy Lilly.)

"...I know what I'm needing, and I don't want to waste more time..."

It has been hard, lately, to get myself to work on time. I'm usually pretty punctual in all things, but now I'm slipping into a kind of senioritis concerning my day-to-day life, my excuse seemingly being, "Well, I'm moving to England in October, so what does it matter if I get out of bed right now? Or shower once I do? Or do my hair/make up/nails/wash my face/brush my teeth/eat breakfast/succeed at anything else in life generally?" Well, it does matter. What also matters is that I'm leaving New York for such an extended period of time and still, after living here for so very long, have not having taken full advantage of the city. So now, in a last ditch effort to really get something out of this experience, I'm trying to make up a list of things to do here before I go. What I have so far:

1) Fold origami boats and sail them on the sculpture fountain at Lincoln Center.
2) Visit the Bronx zoo
3) Visit the Botanical garden
4) See a movie in Bryant Park, Finally.
5) Have a picnic...somewhere. But like a real one, with a basket and everything.
6) Attend a lecture on something interesting.
7) See professional dance in performance (Because I've only done that once in my life.).

I'm stuck, which is ridiculous given my subscriptions to both Time Out and the New Yorker, but I'm opening up the floor to suggestions. It could be as simple as "Eat at this restaurant," or as romantic as, "Watch the sunset from this very spot." So my friends: what have you got?

NOTE: Visiting the following are out, as I've done them either on school functions or dates or day trips with my parents:
--Walking over the Brooklyn Bridge
--Going to the Empire State Building
--Visiting Ellis Island
--Visiting the Statue of Liberty

Anything? Anything? Bueller?