New York City life – Page 2

Day 4 & 5 The American Dream Deferred

How does the American Dream Really Measure Up ?

Work hard, save up, invest, buy a house, send your kids to college, get a boat, buy a nice car, buy a bigger car, get a lake house, donate money to charity and all your dreams will come true. Generations of immigrants, and newly minted Americans were fed this story from first settlers, in the northeast, to the gold rush and reconstruction of the American West, to the migration of freed slaves from the south to the cities of the North, the same idea was repeated over and over; if you invest enough you too will get to taste the sweet nectar of success and prosperity. Here, in the grandest city of all; New York, they add the overused tagline- If you can make it here you can make it anywhere.

Like that old Sinatra song, there is an air of old school musty glory to this idea that if you can survive a city that can rough you up and spit you out, you will then receive the ever coveted shield to forge on toward any dream you could possibly have. With that seedling of a dream, millions, and millions of people with nothing left to lose came to this city’s shores and still do.

For some it works, for others, they work themselves to the bone to achieve something that is quite plainly unseen. I followed this model or parts of this story of glory for the formative years of my life. I went to an American College, took out a loan, finished school, got a degree, went to work at an arts organization, built my credit, kept paying off my loan, moved to London, moved to Athens, kept working, built a business, got in debt, paid my debt, kept paying off my college loan, and now at an age when all this should have been figured out I find myself working from the ground up, again. Something the American dream never took into consideration: Failure.

And it begs the question.

Is the American dream more of an American nightmare?

Is the mere act of trying to squeeze every single morsel of time, energy and effort for a supposed image of success, causing more irreparable harm? Is there something wrong with people who don’t fulfill it.? Over the years I’ve questioned the validity of the construct of this model; not only because it’s parameters seem to exclude more and more groups of people, but also because of the carrot of success it at a great cost to achieving it.

This idea of a self made, successful man, and let’s face it it’s always a man; with everything he could ever want, that will build himself up from scratch and pave the way for future generations, has been a poster image of success for as long as this construct has existed. It has been adopted by other countries ( Including Greece) and cultures with absolutely no background in such a formula, sometimes ( always) with disastrous results; because the formula is fundamentally flawed. The experiment isn’t working if it ever did, and it certainly won’t work any more. The idea no longer holds water, the marketing campaign for the work hard and be rewarded paradigm is sitting on rotting ground, and the boat even though it was meant to withstand choppy water, is ultimately being capsized in the perfect storm. We lost sign of the dream, because it was based on a false narrative.

Where will the “dream” go next? This is not for me to say. What I can say for certain is this: success isn’t in the money we make, or the cars we drive, or the houses we buy. Success isn’t how many followers we have, or how much sex we’ve had or who emulates us. Success is not any of these things. Sure that’s all grand and of course nothing about achieving those goals is bad; but for me success is having a clearer understanding of failure. Success is failure’s companion and one person’s dream could truly be another person’s nightmare. Ultimately I would rather fail at the American dream, and succeed at having a few good people in my life that I can truly be connected with.

For now I leave it to you dear readers to decide.

Till the next episode.

Good night and Good luck.

March: 27 Day Challenge

What started as a daily commitment experiment for personal growth, self discovery, and a writing challenge, has now become a personal writing tradition. This year I’m hoping I can make this challenge a bit more vulnerable and personal. As done in my last challenges; during the month of March I will be writing a daily post; observation and reflection. This daily posting challenge is a way to push open personal boundaries and redefine my commitment to writing and sharing more of what I see, what I experience, what I am deeply moved by, and how I rediscover the similarities in the cultures I encounter including my own.

This year I will add one more element to the daily challenge that will accompany you; my few but loyal readers on this 27 day journey.

This element, especially in my rediscovery of what it means to be a yoga student, instructor, and a person who genuinely loves guiding people towards better and more self empowered health; is my most challenging. For the past two years I’ve been redefining my own personal practice, and in that light; I will be adding posts and thoughts about my personal physical, spiritual and wellness life, and how it is informed by daily yoga practice, unscripted kinesiology and movement exploration, crazy dance classes, food creation and wellness routines. As my body ages, I realize I’m capable of far more than I had ever tackled in my teens and twenties as a dancer and young yoga student. I invite you to place your own personal 27 day challenges and share them with your friends and loved ones. Motivation sometimes comes from inspiration and I hope this challenge will give opportunity for inspiration and discussion.

Day 1. The Peoples Park

Running on empty.

This past winter, both physically and mentally has been a bit of a challenge. Even though the winter was far less harsh than in previous years; I felt I had to work twice as hard to self motivate. Pulling myself by my bootstraps, as it is often passed around in the U.S, by those who feel the need to show off their unwavering personal resilience to failure. I challenged myself to a biweekly (no matter the weather) run in the park. My body in the last year has gone through some welcome and unwelcome transformations. This morning, as I had done last Sunday, I got out of my winter skin, and with a chilly sunny day, as a backdrop took a very slow run in my favorite park in New York : Prospect Park.

Some may argue that Central Park is better, fancier, more sophisticated, has more to see, and they might be right, but for me Prospect Park has been my sanctuary, my safe haven, my meditation spot, my writing spot, my open gym, my place for self reflection, and where I go jogging from April till November. It’s filled with little nooks, beautiful open lawns, nice shady spots, drum circles and open air concerts. It’s a back yard, a meeting spot, a quiet space and a gathering space. Unlike any park I know in Athens, New York parks are stuff of legends and many stories. Since I don’t have a garden to sit in anymore, the Park has provided a green haven away from everything that reminds you, that you live in a crowded city. Today was no exception. Gorgeous sun reflected off the lake shimmering the waters as people ran, biked, played music and took in a few late winter rays.

It’s a little bit of magic. You will see everyone from the surrounding neighborhoods come together. Kids running through and playing with trees, cyclists whizzing by; re-construction on the old gazebo in the lower end of the park. Today I ran so slowly, even an old grandmother passed me by, but I pay no mind as my feet slowly got used to the rhythm of my heart rate. The Park transports you to places of the past as the trees have secrets only they will ever know. After cutting through the lower half of the park; the wind started to cut through both my hoodies as I walked home. It’s still too cold for me but I’ve pushed through today’s first satisfied with my progress but mostly exhausted and sore.

This for sure will be an interesting month.

Stay tuned…

Gotham’s Magic- A love learned.

How to Seek for Novelty in the Familiar.

Living in one place long enough, you forget to see it with curious fresh eyes. You walk up the same train station, drive the same route to work, take the same street to your yoga practice, gym, dance class; go to the same cafe or bar for a drink with friends. None of this is bad per se. There is something beautiful, comforting even, about the familiar faces and places you encounter every day. Yet shaking up the pot ignites renewed curiosity in a place that has become part of your everyday life.

I challenge myself to the newness of things in order to avoid getting into a much dreaded rut. Daily life is not often full of wonder, unless we make a concentrated effort. Practice, go to work, teach, give massages, come home, cook, write. Rinse and Repeat. I try to stay true to my commitment to novelty, curiosity and keeping a fresh eye on things I see everyday. The reason? I have to gaze at things with absence of predictive air, feeding my need to stay present so I don’t get lost in the same story line. So I don’t get lost in myself.

sunburst sunday rush

Routines, set schedules, predictable outcomes can be equal part comforting and a trap. Looking up at that special moment when all you want to do is bury yourself in the same thing over and over again requires a little extra effort. I say this because falling in love with a place you don’t consider your home requires effort, presence and a sense of wonder. Falling in love with it when it’s all you know is twice as challenging.

New York is not an easy broad ( and for me she IS a broad— not a lady, or a missus, or a woman she’s a broad with whatever images you care to understand reflect that characteristic).

She is harsh, unromantic and somewhat uglypretty. ( a Greek word not really translatable “ασχημόρμοφη” ) a trait she shares with my hometown Athens, who’s femininity is always cast over with a shadow of the unkempt or wild. Taking her for granted and ignoring her nuanced beauty is easy to miss. She’s not glamorous or sexy like Paris or Rome but she’s enchanting, and when you take a moment to notice; she will make you fall in love with her. Unlike my love for Athens, which is in my blood, my love for New York has been peppered with anger, loneliness, pure joy, grittiness and forgiveness. New York is a cinematic love, Athens is a poetic one.

Living and learning to love a city that is not my place of birth is about a deeper kind of love. It’s about understanding the hustle, the grind, and the soul of this metal giant, as the facade of its deep felt inherent kindness and humanity. Some days it takes effort and patience not reserved for your average New Yorker …. but just like I’m not your average Athenian, I’m certainly not your average New Yorker.

Belonging to this city is a work in progress, and like most die heard New Yorkers will never miss a chance to state that: you don’t deserve to be called one unless you’ve spit blood, sweat and tears for it. Noticing it’s magic, however belongs to everyone regardless of socioeconomic status, birthplace, or location. Ive learned to love New York as I hade learned to love myself. She has become a part of me and I a part of her, and every now and then she enchants me, this gal of mine.

Gotham Soul- Standing

Lower Manhattan Christmas Eve

She stands tall. Gotham dreams of a place unknown and known. A legacy thrown into turmoil, she breathes.

Her. guts scream.

Her power unseen.

She grapples with the visitors and the takers of her streets.

A queen, taken from her throne and thrown about like a beggar in her own neighborhood.

She stood tall, and she will again. The threading of her story is still in the making. Patterns left unfinished and long forgotten, will rise like a falcon over a clear sky. Triumphant, confronting, scrutinizing our every move.

This lady is still about liberty underneath the layers of depravity. She’s my sanctuary.

Nothing is more iconic and telling of New York life than during the holiday season. Rockefeller center and Macy’s light display, the skating rink in Bryant Park. Landmarks, and points of interest. Many more tourists come during Christmas and New Year’s eve than any other time of year. What I’ve always been drawn to and notice is the other side of the spectrum. Noticing the loneliness, the isolation and the art of the Christmas hustle. What makes this city especially harsh during the holidays; is that they are treated as a commodity, and everyone who does work during them is part of that mechanism.

This year I chose to ( was forced ) spend the holidays in the city. Work kept me here so I used the opportunity to take this unavoidable staycation and treat myself to a little bit of a tourist viewpoint.

New York has two ( at least) worlds; one of opulence and tourist attractions and one of familiar locality. Small local joints, people who know each other and greet you on the street, and an absence of frivolity and pretense.

Real New Yorkers however they might be depicted in movies and television; are a caring, loving people and the heartbeat of this city, and when you get to know them, some of the kindest people you will ever meet. Staying here during the holidays in what seemed an almost empty metropolis, gave me a chance to meet and actually talk to many more people I otherwise would have overlooked. Stay open to possibilities in the year to come, you never know where they will take you.

Happy Fucking New Year.

When life gives you lemons

How to change your viewpoint when the circumstances won’t.

Whatever life can thrown at us, we and only we have the power to transform something negative into something positive. There is no magic trick or special potion. Moments are cultivated and transformed with the idea that the only thing between progress and stagnancy is our own point of view.

When we’re faced with a twist of fate, a turn of events, or something we didn’t expect it feels like it’s all coming apart; our lives hanging at a balance, and the only thing really available to us is how we choose to see our circumstance. Yes of course easier said than done, but how else can we turn shit into gold? Be washing it off and starting over.

Each and every moment is a chance for creating a new line of thinking. The question is do we see the opportunity, in the silver lining or do we focus on the clouds? If life gives us a chance to change, then however painful or challenging that may be, resistance is never going to provide the result we want.

Making the most out of what may seem like misfortune, can lead from failure to success and a glass of lemonade.

NYC State of Mind

A story about finding and rebuilding a home.

Falling in love with Gotham is not an easy love. It’s not a quiet love it’s a passion unlike any other.

I’ve fallen in and out of love with New York City, its culture and its people for as long as I can remember. First in 1999 and now 20 years later. It was and is a place where you undergo change in order to survive, you must evolve in order to thrive and you must find yourself before you get lost.

This place is not for the faint of heart, and most importantly it’s not for the faint of mind.

Finding myself, my purpose and identity in NYC is the deepest journey of self knowledge I’ve undergone in recent years. Very few cities I’ve visited or lived in have had the same effect. For those who are natives, lifers, and full time residents; it’s a daily chess game of willpower and focus. You have to stay ahead of the monster and the game.

Yet the city has changed.

Whatever bohemian, free, society New York once was; has now been transformed, altered and deeply changed. For the better, or for worse , only time will tell.

Part of me liked the dangerous, mysterious Gotham to the fancy free NYC full of kombucha, beard oil and gluten free butter biscuits. New York at its core is not hip or cool, it’s subversive, loud mouthed, deeply spiritual, proud, driven city. It’s a city of newcomers and visitors, a city of passage and immigration and a city who’s pulse is in the hustle.

The give and take and heartbeat of nyc is on its streets. It’s not a romantic place. I’ve written about the lack of eros in this city since I first stated writing this blog. It lacks the finesse, and the flirtation of older cities but makes up for it with a true heart.

New York is not a place for the faint of heart. The love here is fierce, possessive and demanding. She’s drunk in the middle of the night with mascara running down her face. She’s messy she’s unforgiving she’s crude. She’s remembers everything. Yet hers is a love that teaches you first and foremost to love yourself.

Cheers to New York Fucking City

Poem: A momentary lapse of rhythm

 
In Out..

breathe in
breathe out
be thankful
be sweet
be concrete
discreet
unique
dance to another beat
don’t let people
step on your feet.
Don’t give in yet.
I confess I’m lost in my emotions
I have notions about you and me
Nothing concrete just a feeling
Unique
complete
maybe it’s just me
do you see?
This thing I’m in,
this swinging in my hips
my lips part
I start.
Step to the rhythm
then I get lost
in you
again
I stopped my pen and thought
not again...
but then I felt your breath
on my neck
sweetness
completeness
uniqueness
a pleasure
listen
to


us

Day 21. Explorations in Verse Poetry/ English

For the love of the rhyme.

It started in November 2016. I had been writing ever since I could remember but the poems started flooding my pages, after moving to New York in early 2013. I suppose it’s true what they say, suffering and pain makes for great material for poetry. I have been working on some new material recently, some of it very raw some of it more groomed and precise, and all of it deeply personal. I’m inspired by poetry that comes from a troubled mind and heart. I’m enthralled by poetry that dives into the deeply profound, erotic and painful of life. I love irony. I’ts the perfect glue to the mundane and the banal. So here are some of my recent explorations in verse:

#2  Pencil on a train to Queens: 

 
Hustlers and peddlers of goods. 
Bull shit artists with a flair for the delicately.
Profane…
Masters of the insane.

But you got nothing to show.
I know I’m a good girl
But this is systemic fraudulence and in poor taste.
Make haste.

Life is not waiting around for you to decide what’s right.
You have to ride the train like the rest of us fools.
we have the tools to do greater than scoff at injustice 
just because it makes a funny meme.
we’ve lost touch with reality it seems.
How real does the pain get?
Let’s take a bet.

Your life and your pain remain
a stain
an awful memory
an broken legacy
People screaming, oh you’re too PC.
What does it take for me to care?
Nothing.

Calling basic humanity a certain insanity 
is what’s plagued us all our lives.
And yet Basic humanity is a rarity in these troubled times.
Besides
The tides come and go
 our mere existence is erased by the distance of time.
No wonder your love is anemic.
Your abuse systemic 
Your lies complete.

I drink my whiskey neat.
No ice
There is no time for diluted flavors.
Do me a favor and pass the lime. 
It’s almost time.

 
The End Game

Sometimes I lay down and wonder 
what it would be like to be your wife...
Fuck no. 
I’m thinking thank the universal beings and celestial forces 
you are as far away from me
as possible.
Undoubtedly so. 
You did me a favor
With your razor sharp wit.
I must admit, I thought you were hot shit.
But then the reality hit SMACK DAB in the center of your fantasy 
of me.
You see?
God is in the details they say and you’re just murky
Trust me.
It’s apparent.
I gave you consent over my body,
not my mind.
You played that one of a kind
pimp game.
The lie folded into half truths and lead me to assume
that you loved me.
It was all above me like a noose.
I get goosebumps.
 I think of the shit I would have done to lower myself to your level
It’s undeniable how unreliable
The pussy is compared to the gut.
And in you strut,
like a homing device for my weakness my vice.
You slice with precision like a surgeon
 my heart is a cavernous hole.
But then you underestimate my soul.
And here I am Whole.
Compete without distinction or defeat.
I spit at your feet.
Don’t deplete my space 
I have erased you from my memory.
click — delete
complete without distinction or defeat.

Day 11. East Harlem

East Harlem…Day.

I stand dazed at the history this colony has written.

I’m smitten.

Forgiven for my sins here.

No one knows my pain here.

No one knows my name here.

Standing on the corner where it all began.

Uncle Sam, you have no idea how powerful we are. We built these streets with our songs. Tagged walls. Signature of a people. Stolen dreams, revealed in a spray can.

Uncle Sam…. Look up, the writing is on the wall.

We stand tall.

We were part of the master plan.

East Harlem.

Nights.Beats, rhythms Taino towers.

Strange powers.

We. Thousands of souls blended together.

Birds of a feather.

Walk down the block, cross the bridge and it’s another world.

Where you come from is in your eyes.

Uncle Sam. This is my clan.

People from all walks of life.

We were born in different places, we have difference faces, but ended all up in here on this Island of dreams.

Trying, fighting, aspiring, conspiring to make it big.

I can’t do this!

This is some pipe dream.

I can’t even fight clean.

I’m running out of steam.

There is no remedy.

My fantasies colliding with this harsh reality, like I’m a on a beam.

Balance,

balance,

fall.

Get up again.

Stand tall.

Balance.

Win.

Day 9 and 10- The art of doing nothing.

How to master the art just being.

This is of course a battle I often lose, so let me preface this post, by clarifying; I’m absolutely incapable of doing nothing. This very challenging task of course brought up the idea to place myself in a battle of the wills, and force myself to do nothing.

I failed miserably.

As we all know forcing anything is still the act of doing something.

I decided to take another stab at it this weekend. I started by taking a walk, with no particular route in mind and just walk. Even though I had a particular map in my head about where I would end up; I kept my mind on just walking and breathing.

This has probably been the most difficult thing I’ve ever undertaken. I’m not known for being able to stay idle and even on my days off I always find something to do. (even writing this post I had to set aside for anther day)

Living in a city that never sleeps, one often finds that it’s almost never silent. Given the task of not doing anything and being in as much silence as possible; my path took me to one of my favorite parts of New York.

Prospect Park, in Brooklyn has long been my sanctuary from the craziness of New York. Other than walking along a beach front anywhere in the world, the Park has become my “do nothing sanctuary.” There is where my mind relaxes it’s right grip and just IS. Finding that connection and being able to just exist with out a task or project in mind has been very difficult to even fathom, but as my body became more vulnerable to stress and exhaustion from overworking, this idea of non action has been a necessary remedy.

Everyday find a moment where you are task-less and quiet. Bring yourself the gift of doing absolutely nothing.

And don’t share it with anyone.

Happy ( almost) Spring.

Share this:

Day 1. The Peoples Park

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

For the love of the rhyme.

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: