Tag: growth

Day 8. – Sunday in Brooklyn

A walk through my favourite parts of Brooklyn brought with it unexpected surprises and a small detour.

On an unseasonably warm March Sunday morning; Brooklyn beckoned for a long walk through its tree lined streets and quaint neighborhoods. I have been feeling the effects of a sedentary winter, the crazy health scares and the political scene, like many of us; so taking a long stroll was just the medicine needed to wake up my winter body. It seems my idea was not a novel one, as there were many fellow sun worshipers taking their long awaited dose, of freedom as if they had been let out of their winter prisons.

Kensington, Brooklyn

After a hearty breakfast with a friend at her neighborhood Greek diner, ( yup every neighborhood has one); I decided to start my walk admiring the incredible victorian inspired architecture of Ditmas Park, with the final destination aimed at the neighborhood of Bay Ridge, ( the other Greek enclave outside of Astoria, Queens.

Kensington, Brooklyn

I first walked though my old neighborhood, taking a fresh look at familiar streets, eyeing suspiciously at new stores opening up where neighborhood staples had been open for years. The obligatory stop to say hello to my favorite Yemeni neighborhood bodega near my old street lead to a quick conversation and a joyful reassurance that god will look over us all. I suppose as a spiritual atheist I’ll take all the blessings I can get. I kept my pace walking up the hill between Greenwood Cemetery and Prospect Park. There lies a little secret street not many people know about well protected from real estate sharks tucked in a triangle all on its own. The architecture is a mixture of old wooden houses and pre WW II two story single family homes. Thankfully most of them well preserved and owned by old timers who desperately hold on as best as they can. Primarily an Italian American neighborhood until the late 1970s.

Windsor Terrace, Brooklyn

I know now that making time for diversions on my walks is always rewarding, because as I stood at the top of a quiet crossroads between my old neighborhood and Greenwood cemetery, I caught the eye of an older gentleman sitting on his stoop taking in the sun while reading his newspaper. I didn’t have a deadline except for making sure I was back home by sunset, which left a good 3 hours for my stroll. I greeted the older man who introduced himself with a smile. “Hello!” I say “taking in this lovely sun I see.”

Jack, is a genuine Brooklyn local, born, raised, married, had a family and lived on this block his whole adult life. Italian- American ( as are most of the old timers of this neighborhood since the early 20s) from the island of Favignara just off the western coast of Sicily.

-You’re looking well! I said which was part encouragement part truth, and he quickly replied “it’s all the extra virgin olive oil from the mother land!” To which I replied “oh I could not agree with you more, I’m from Athens and I don’t buy anything other than olive oil from my country” What unfolded was one of the loveliest conversations I’ve had the privilege of having.

Jack introduces himself with a sweet smile on his face, probably quite glad someone from the neighborhood stopped by to say hello. He is a spry 91 years young, and despite his blood thinners and according to him horribly restrictive diet, has a youthful demeanor about him. He has lived in this very neighborhood since he married his lovely wife in the early 1920s. He quickly pulled out his wallet to show me his wedding day picture which showed a handsome dark haired man with his strong gaze, standing proudly next to his elegant Italian beauty of a bride of 61 years. They moved from their cold water flat to this gem of a neighborhood, had two children, 3 grandchildren and 2 great grand children. I asked if his wife was around and a slight sadness overtook him as he explained her passing 2 years prior.

– I’m lonely now, everyone I know has passed on, my kids live outside the city, yes they visit but not often enough. He said as his eyes grew darker. Things have changed here over the years. You know what did it? That damn highway, ripped through our quiet neighborhood and changed everything since the 60’s.

-You don’t like change, Jack?

– No! He responded quickly in a distinctive Brooklyn accent now rarely heard around these neighborhoods.

– These ugly apartment buildings going up all over the park, I hate them!

– I don’t like change either, but what can you do? I’ll visit you Jack! I said and I meant it. Having lived with my amazing land lady of 95 years, I know how older people crave company.

-If I’m alive! He quickly responded.

-I just found you Jack, don’t leave me just yet! I joked and he laughed a toothy smile.

-Ok let me ask ya a personal question. He goes.

-Ask me anything, I respond ( fully knowing what would come next)

-You have someone ? he asks with a concerned look.

-Ah Jack… Not really.

-What! A lovely woman such as yourself?

-You wanna be my beau, Jack? I smiled.

He smiled back, and at that moment another neighbor brought by some chrysanthemum bulbs that he couldn’t use, and I lingered a little longer before I said good bye.

– I’ll see you soon Jack! Take care of yourself. I’ll bring you some spinach pie next time I come around. I won’t put too much feta in it.

– May god keep you happy and healthy always. Take care of yourself, you’re a lovely young woman. He gave me a soft embrace and I reassured him I would keep my promise to come by again.

As I walked up the hill towards the cemetery it hit me, how many times I drove by Jack’s house in the four years that I lived down the street from him and never passed by. The time was right and I do hope I get to see him again. These precious moments for him are morsels of sweetness in a life that has long changed since he moved to this quiet hill in Windsor Terrace.

Jack’s House

– Bless you Jack! I waved as I resumed my stroll, realizing I had spent a good 45 minutes talking to my new friend.

The sun hit my face once more and I took in a deep breath. Thanks Jack, you’re a gem.

Greenwood Cemetery— Windsor Terrace

Till tomorrow. Keep walking.

Gotham’s Magic- A love learned.

How to Seek for Novelty in the Familiar.

Grand Central 8:00 am

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.

Prospect Park Winter Sun

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.

Brooklyn- Manhattan Q Train

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).

East Side light.

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.

Astor Place – Cooper Union
The witching hour- Soho

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.

Brooklyn- home ( away from Home)

Wandering Child- The Journey

Somber mornings, built in longings, and the sea awaits. Crossings, passages, journeys of time, sublime aromas of a land that is my sacred place. Intoxicating smells of the past coming back to me at last. Long lost destiny starts with just one step, but I’ve been walking for miles and miles and I’m growing tired.

What do you do for yourself they ask. I have a task, herculean at best. There is no rest for my body tonight.

Frightful faces look at me as I smile, they must not have seen joy in a while. Staring in disbelief that someone can break the spell of misery, it’s not a mystery. Listen to my liturgy. Amen

Strange men pause their eyes one me.

Breaking the sanctity of my solidarity.

What the fuck are you looking at…My tongue gets caught in a reaction but I bite it hard.

I close my joy in a box to share with those who give it back.

It’s a rarity in these strange times. To find the sublime in the ordinary and mundane.

The rain keeps falling on the streets of familiarity, my old haunts. They fault me, chase me away.

Yet I return changed.

Memories streaming like the rivers formed by the first fall rain.

Athena is washed clean after a summer of debauchery and tourist delights.

They will soon go as they always do, to leave our land for us to clean up.

Fast forward to a quiet space. Against the race of time. It’s all mine now, this moment. Atonement for my sins. Quietly knocking down my resignation to this abomination this greed. I plant the seed to a new life, walking away from the past like a lion roaming the earth in search for a place to call home.

And then… silence awaits.

Day. 13 &14- Monetizing Passion.

How can we reconcile our desire to explore all our passions, with the philosophy that only mastery leads to success.

One thing I’ve always wanted to be when writing on this platform is honest. There is no point in writing about anything without honesty, so on today’s post I’ll be a little less curated.

I’ve always been a woman of many loves and inspirations. This has been equal parts hindrance and blessing. There is no pretense in thinking I’m the master of anything that I practice, but after 20 years I can safely say, I’m a pretty decent yoga instructor/massage therapist and “working on it” writer. Photography, Cooking and Dance are my long term lovers. We don’t commit to each other fully but we can’t live without each other either.

Anything else in life comes and goes, but the passions seem to stand out. Unfortunately many of the people I’ve met and spoken to about this predicament share the same conundrum. Many of them title themselves under doing or being what they make money at, instead of what they are passionate about. If I were to follow that paradigm, I can’t hold any claim to the above mentioned passions. Yet better monetizing what we are passionate about pursuing, leaves us with a slight handicap. The ever mind numbing idea that when you make money off of what you love, you’re a sell out, and if you don’t make money on what you love, you’re not good enough or dedicated enough or with it enough, to be a success. Catch 22.

In the end for me. The passions win. If money catches up to them, I consider it a bonus. After all my observations about practicing what you love despite the rewards. I’ve come to this conclusion:

Keep the fire going even if you have only 10 people who love what you do, because in the end; what you love and strive to do well, shows. What you do for pure income alone, looses its luster and authenticity.

What are you passionate about and want to share with others?

Weathering the Storms

beach clouds dark dark clouds
Photo by Josh Sorenson on Pexels.com

All storms pass.
No matter how destructive they might be. The clouds gather ominously the rain falls,
the wind blows, the trees bend, and sometimes their branches break; but they endure.
Even when they leave us rattled and disoriented; storms pass.
Even though they are brutal and cause chaos wherever they go; storms pass.
And like the trees, if we are deeply routed in who we are, where we want to be and
how we want to live our lives, storms can never up root us.
We all live through mini storms, and major hurricanes. Our very existence is questioned,
our moral fiber tested and stretched to the point of ripping, yet there we are; resilient to
the winds and the daunting times of our lives.
This is not a pep talk.
This is a realization. One that I have come to after many storms, many mistakes, and
many
broken
branches.
I burned future chances for happiness and joy, because I thought the
storms of my life were far more destructive than they actually were.
Category 5 disasters… now gentle reminders of how far I’ve come,
how far we have all come.
Whirlwinds, title waves of emotions leaving us bare, raw, naked, worn.
But we get up and we keep going, because storms are there to remind us of our higher
purpose.
We
Are
stronger…
than the any storm.
“When the Roots are Deep, There is no reason to fear the wind”
tree-2845119_960_720

​

Privilege–Crisis and Migration

One invaluable lesson the financial crisis in Greece taught me, is that one can’t take anything for granted.

There are few incredibly wealthy Greeks who remain untouched by the financial crisis. I am not going to talk about them in this blog post.

Countless young Greek professionals like myself, have had to leave their lives, their homes and their families behind for a another and very uncertain life elsewhere. I uprooted my life, (again) and migrated to another country, not only for a better life but essentially to survive. If all goes well and I’m able to build a life here in the U.S, or anywhere else; I hope to move beyond surviving, and to ultimately thrive and succeed.

Going back to Greece to live and work; is not a viable option for us who left. 

At least not yet.

I am far luckier than most.

With all the strides, that I have made living in New York the past five years; it has not been without its challenges. I attribute the general malaise of my fellow country men and women, not only to nostalgia or missing our homeland, but to the crude realization of having to prove ourselves somewhere else AGAIN, after having fought very hard to establish a life in a far less conducive and accepting environment.

I built a successful career in my field, and was afforded a relatively stable family and personal life, but most importantly Greece was my home. I LOVED living there. I had in general terms a good life. Despite all its craziness and complete chaos; I love Greece. Yet….most young people, (myself included when I first moved back after my studies), are endlessly discouraged by Greece’s pure lack of any provable organization, shitty public services, corrupt governance, disorganized and badly outdated infrastructure, nepotism, greed … rampant sexism, and most recently a newly emboldened racism and nationalism; the list is endless.

We all have complained, and continue to do so about how badly everything runs, how our corrupt politicians are stifling growth, entrepreneurship,  and innovation. Many of the people who left, wanted to make it work in Greece. We wanted to bring our knowledge back to our homeland. I like many of my contemporaries, have had the privilege of being educated in good schools, have had contact with some amazing minds in all the fields I have worked at;  (the Arts, Dance, Wellness and beyond), and have had the good fortune to be able to choose where I would like to live, but above all…. I had the ultimate “golden ticket”; an American Passport.

My privilege is not lost on me.

It has afforded much needed headway when coming to the United States to work and live after living in Greece for most of my adult life. Yet…. I am still seen as a bloody foreigner. Despite my many difficulties proving myself again as a yoga teacher, arts administrator and overall capable professional; this little title “American Citizen” protects me from far worse treatment and marginalization that many of my compatriots feel having never lived in the U.S, or any other foreign country for that matter.

When observing the difficulty my friends face when coming to the U.S for the first time, I feel immensely grateful to be able to navigate through “the system” as well as having a better understanding of the intricacies of living, operating and decoding how “the little things” work in the U.S. This is an obscure list of unwritten rules; it’s handed to us upon arrival and, we all have to follow them.

A rude awakening, to a new life.

Whatever life I left behind in Greece; losing the comfort and ease I was used to, was quite daunting at first glance. What I learned upon arrival to the U.S is that nothing of what I knew or was used to is applicable here. If I am going to survive, I must play the local game and all but forget how things worked for me “back home”. I had to go through the same “schooling” when I moved back to Greece at 22, after my studies in the U.S. The American way of life does not apply to Greek chaos… so I was called to re-calibrate how I worked “the system”, in order to survive and ultimately thrive.

This I find is the biggest gift, no matter how hard of a transition it has been. I am now fortified with the tools to be able to negotiate a productive way of life both here and in Greece. The local rules and “how things are done” are no longer a mystery, because doing things by the book in New York is only the first step to a long education about making it here, or anywhere else.

And the story continues….

The art of saying NO

17bennett-master768

What if you said NO instead of YES?

We all have found ourselves there. Those countless times, saying YES, agreeing, going along with, and acquiescing to something we ultimately wanted no part in. I often wonder if I said NO to someone or something that ultimately was not good for me, what lesson would I have learned. And how much time I would have saved. I have often agreed to go along with situations, relationships, jobs, projects or ideas when ultimately I realized they were not a good fit. That realization sometimes comes at a great cost, after a lot of lost time, and energy, emotional and physical.

Saying NO is hard, very hard.  We want to agree and be agreeable, we want to make everyone happy by saying yes to any number of things that ultimately we regret partaking in. We want to be open to possibilities; Carpe Diem and all the philosophical positivity of it, but let’s be honest… Half the YES’s are most likely not worth any seizing of any day. Oh I have regrets… plenty of them. And anyone who says they don’t are not being fully honest with themselves, because let’s face it hindsight is 20/20.

Saying NO is like removing another roadblock to your path of doing exactly and whatever is best for you. 

I regret many of my YES’s of the past but hardly any of the NO’s. I realize now, quite late in life that saying NO, is incredibly freeing. You release all expectations, you gently and without remorse refuse to partake in anything that doesn’t work for you, and ultimately you save much wasted time. There is no unpleasant back and forth, no unfulfilled expectations, and in the end you save your YES for something, someone, and somewhere that truly matters.

I’ve begun this experiment of saying no thank you, not for me, not right now, not at this time and at times when necessary a hard NO. That last one is the most challenging because it usually comes after much effort and coercion on the part of the recipient to hear something different. Those have become the most satisfying, like removing another roadblock to your path of doing exactly and whatever is best for you.  Recently I’ve discovered that by saying NO more often, I’m getting much better at it and more decisive about how to use it.

The next time you feel you have to say YES, don’t and see where it takes you.

 

 

A child of two nations

I’m an American girl with a Greek Soul

I’m a Greek girl with an American mind

I thought I was an abomination, a child of two nations

But I’m one of a kind.

——-

I put mind over matter

I put my heart over my mind

Cause it all matters.

I’m often blind to the lesser than, the because of, the despite that

I’ll change at a drop of a hat, or I won’t change at all.

——-

I put up walls to protect what’s mine.

I’m spontaneous and grounded

Loving and jealous

Mindful and impatient

Caring and vengeful.

I’ll cut you like a knife and heal you like a summer breeze

I’m a big tease

I run free.

——–

Fire is my middle name,

Desire drives my path through pain.

Again and again… I repeat cycles

Cause I have a knack for the strange and profane.

I’m a little insane.

——-

Too much, too lonely, too fearful at times.

I need to be heard at times

I scream to the hills at times

I cross the line at times

I try to find the good in everyone at times

I often waste my time

I know it’s not a crime

But I’m no Angel….

Day 21.5 — Perseverance

Day 21 of 27.

When you’re determined to get somewhere even a snow storm won’t get in your way. Today, yet another snow storm covers New York in white. The streets of Soho where I took this picture were eerily quiet, as I have seldom seen them. Shops were closed for the day and a few brave souls were out and about ( mostly tourists!) Yet this image of a man on his bicycle, undeterred by the snow or the slippery streets; steady and determined on his path; reminded me of how much we will all go through to get what we want, to get to where we want to go, and to achieve our highest potential.

Sacrifice is inevitable and often necessary and even though we will lose friends, comfort, and sometimes our sanity; if we are sure of our goals then it’s all worth it.

I sat with a friend who’s a gifted photographer for a quick impromptu coffee. We weren’t supposed to meet and I had not seen him in months. I said this to him, because like him I lose my steam and my determination when faced with self doubt. I reminded him as I do myself over and over again ( yes I talk to myself all the time ); keep focused on the destination, and keep steady on the journey despite the mishaps and the trials along the way.

Our goals are only as far as we are willing to go to fulfill them. On this first day of spring and the beginning of Aries season… keep going and even if you fall, you will get there.

What is standing in the way of your goals and your path to them?

Day 17 & 18. Perspective/Spring Cleaning

Post 17 and 18 of 27.

It’s a very quiet Sunday night, and I thought a lot about what I wanted to highlight at the end of this very productive and exhausting weekend. Perspective was one thing that came to mind this morning. Our perception of ourselves and other people has mainly to do with our perspective in life. If we see all things in a negative light, only negative reactions will follow each action we take. In stark contrast however I find that, even if something negative happens, we can either choose to see it that way, or to discover the positive outcome in an unfortunate situation.

There are moments when I get lost in the exhausting unfairness of the world, and in the disproportionate mishaps and unforeseen twists to my plans, as opposed to things working out just as I imagined them. In the end there is something to be gained from each situation; despite its original intent. My perspective shifts because I choose to alter my perception. These two go hand in hand in how we can navigate our lives.

I’m not here to preach about some amazing trick to positive thinking, but to put it in the context of an awareness that will get us out of a lot of dead ends, which brings me to my second topic of spring cleaning.

Spring cleaning as a concept is pretty straightforward, but in the light of changing perception and perspective, it helps to do a session of spring cleaning with our patters, our theories on life, and our perception of the world. When you clean a dirty mirror; your images will be clearer and you won’t have to make assumptions based on false or inaccurate information. I do this not only with my own home, which I consider my sanctuary and my place of peace but also with the people in my life, and the internal and external set of moral codes I’ve set for myself.

Spring cleaning allows us to not only see what we have; but what we may not need any more.  Ideas, things, belongings, our use of time, space, and mental focus. De-cluttering, re- evaluating, unpacking, rearranging our perceptions and perspective will make space for new, fresh and more valuable things to come in.

Clean house, clean mind, clean heart.

Just a little before the first day of spring.

What will go let go of, during your spring cleaning?