Tag: New York

BETWEEn a rock and a hard place

A tale of two cities. in Verse

Street Art by INO – Athens, GR

Metal gods loomed over the skyline, reminding me to be free instead of locked in up in my head. I didn’t know any better. Letting the isolation sink in, it cut to the bone, sapping my very existence. I learned quickly. Pretence isn’t looked upon kindly here. Here you make it because you ate shit for breakfast and it really doesn’t matter what anybody thinks.

“What the FUCK are you looking at!”, she shouts as you quickly avert your gaze, as she hits you with daggers of anger and fear. Imagine how hard you have to become in order to survive this grind and still plant trees of love and understanding, but now they’re rebranding Gotham City into a Monopoly Game. Property moguls eating up land faster than pacman ever could.

You once stood tall, but now.

Game Over. Move over lady this isn’t for you any more. Dark alleyways, dimly lit, covered in the wheat paste dreams of momentary and permanent art gods. The grunting sounds of kitchens working to feed a city that never slept. But now silence. As you hear the footsteps in front of you disappear.

Kindness comes from places you hardly expect. Even though they say no one cares, you get the stare of recognition of common pain. She knows what you’re dealing with as you fight back tears on a Brooklyn bound F train. Get off a stop early to collect yourself and, put on your dark glasses so others don’t see you strain. Suck it up, pull it together. There will be good days and bad days but this place makes a Human out of you with a capital H.

You walk up second avenue, conjuring up images in your head about how you got here in the first place. Will you triumph over your fears, or cower in self defence? Condensed dreams in a flash, sweep by you, bringing you to an intense euphoria as you realize it’s all about to end.

Walk a block up.

Freeman’s Alley – LES

Those moments of quaint rarity and clarity bubble up into the Manhattan Skyline. Right across the way, under the PepsiCo Sign, sublime afternoons overlooking the Hudson, moments of chaotic oneness, undone through the blaring sirens of cop cars. Bars overflowing with lonely boys trying to get your attention. “Hey pretty, wanna grab a drink with me?”

Nah I’m good.

LIC- Queens

I remember how I once stood, alone wondering how this would all turn out.

Fade to black.

Sirens, lure me onto ancient lands that are far more about fiction than fact. The dream is intact even though we are packed in like rats. 5 Million souls and counting, and everyone is in your damn business.

Monastiraki, Athens by night

A village, A rock, An ancient ideal now lost in the cement crevices of the mind. We are strangers here. Nomads. Others. Coming and going and finding our way out of the darkness. Slowly trying to prove to every passerby to look up at the skies, instead we limit ourselves to what’s available, attainable and nothing more.

That isn’t my game.

I came here to create change. No matter what. Lingering in the dimly lit passageways of my fatherland now lost in its ugliness and disrepair. People here stare at you as if trying to find the answer to their own insecurities and grief. Knee deep in regrets they never knew they had, they stand tall against the creeping fear mongering and laundering of hope.

I smile gently urging you to invite me to your ceremony. My tears shed in apotheosis of a dream long deferred, but no more. The allure of Athenian mysteries becomes clear, a litany of a city long demolished & rebuild on repeat.

I stand still for a moment to take it all in. The clouds of doubt have dispersed once again, to reveal the softness within.

Welcome.

New York Stories part 2

How to keep true to a city and leave it behind.

Manhattan Bridge May 2021

I’ve decided the let go of New York. My time in the City that helped me grow as a person, a woman and a writer, has now come to a close. I’ve not let go of her yet, and even when I eventually physically leave the city, I will never leave her. She’s been my companion through truly hard times, and through beautifully joyous ones. The stories of the past nine years are coming back to me as I gather them, life morsels, savoured through every memory created in this vast metropolis.

The stories I will continue to tell, are built upon this city of metal, false hope, real struggle and immense courage. She continues to evolve, as I have. The observer and the observed once again merged. Now more strongly than ever before; I look at her slowly disappearing from my rear view mirror as I move decidedly and quietly to the next leg of this writing journey.

She will always be with me, I’ll take her wherever I go In the only way I can, through my writing, my poetry, my spoken word and my commitment. I’m devoted to her in ways I never thought possible and although leaving her may be a foolish errand, New York will push me no matter how tired I am, to build something worthwhile, and something that’s truly mine.

Biggie in Brooklyn

Leaving is never easy. She may not forgive me. I hope she will. My love for her is eternal. She knows me like few cities do. She’s seen me break down in tears in public like all New Yorkers have because let’s be honest it’s a right of passage. You cry yucky tears on the train home from work next to a complete stranger and no one will bother you; Not because they don’t care, but because crying in the subway at 6:00pm on a Tuesday beckons you to the reality that is this city. She’s a bitch but she cares.

I’ll cary her, as she carried me though these tough, enigmatic, wonderfully tragic years of transformation. I will return to her doorstep from time to time, for coffee, a bagel some good conversations and a slap in the face to remind me to stay true to my convictions.

Thank you baby it’s been real. F*ck I love you.

a dark anniversary

How to acknowledge a milestone such as a year in the Life of a Global Pandemic

Photo : E. Kouneli East Village, NYC February 2021

For the third year running in March; I launch a 27 day posting challenge to celebrate among many milestones, the coming of spring, my birthday, birthdays of very dear and close friends, and above all, my celebration of writing. These are and have been peculiar times. For 12 months now, we have been served something in between a subpena a blessing and a curse.

For (more than) a year the tight grip of our reconnings, came hand in hand with cripling uncertainty and fear. Our circles got tighter and tighter, and the strangeness of this new reality aproached like a title wave. I felt stuck. Unatached like many of us. Not knowing where exactly to run to and how to stand still.

We all stood still.

Still photo by E.K May 2020

There was no way of getting out of this without some serious damage. We went from what seemed to be everyday life, to life interrupted and then back to attempts to “a new normal” (I personally hated that phrase). The mojo all of sudden vanished. I like many of us I went on a collective overdrive. There was so much to be said, and a lot of not knowing where to begin. All my desire to write about anything seemed futile in the grand scheme of things. Words take their time, they listen they form into our minds like sand inside an oyster. This anniversary is a painful reminder that we sometimes have to stop, and take a good look at ourselves. In retrospect, I’m actually glad I took a (forced) step back.

Some things are worth the wait.

Some dishes take longer to prepare.

Some words appear when we need them to.

Sometimes tragedy is the birth of change.

Photo E. Kouneli : Awaiting Spring Feb 2021

What I’ve come to realize is that writing, reading, and moving have always been part of how I see the world. Despite the hikkups the delays, the injuries, the life interruptions, writing and moving make life normal. The muscles have been dormant. In this prolonged winter, many of my passions felt secondary. I would start on a thought, an idea and just stop. Personal and family matters came first. Survival, mental claridy, mental focus, just the facts ma’am. We have all been trying to keep our collective shit together. We have failed (badly) at times. We have broken, cracked, and obliterated the old paradigms, We have a lot more work to do.

This one year anniversary feels like the collective red pill. We don’t know how deep this rabbit hole will go. We have seen the Matrix we have been given a chance to be free of it. This is our last chance. The anniversary of this year is our chance to recon with our role in the choices we make, the words we use and the lives we truly wish to lead. The reality is not pretty. What this year above all others has shown is that a perfect storm is needed to unvail the truth about who we want bo be.

We turned to things outside of ourselves. We cooked, we made bread, we coped. We zoomed everybody and their mother, literally. We were (are) scared, frustrated, tired, worried, fearful, angry, bored, fed up, high, low, indiferent and we kept going.

We keep going. I kept going . With the help of many many others who were in my corner, just as much (if more ) as I was in theirs.

What this anniversary has made me come to terms with is that when shit hits the fan, humanity is at the mercy of a virus. The virus mutates, we keep fighting it and then it comes back stronger. We have had for some a rude awakening, to others what has always been there in plain site. This has been a hell of a year. One that has forever changed us, we are all affected by this anniversary. One which will be a hard one for many of us to grapple with for many more years to come.

September 2020 LES, NYC

This year on my March daily post challenge, I hope to take you on a different journey. One that finds the strands of humanity that connects us more than divides us. I hope to bring you into a world that isn’t so unfamiliar and distant as we all would like to believe. I invite you to join me.

March 5th, 2021, Brooklyn New York

“return to normal”

On trying (and sometimes failing) to take note, observe, and notice the simple things during times of uncertainty

Let me begin this long awaited post by saying: This is not yet another quarantine survival story.

I’m not here to make anyone feel better, stronger, or more secure. It has taken over 6 months to work up the courage to write after what has been a feeling of continuous arrested development, and coping with shock, disbelief and at times crippling anxiety. I’m not here to serve up top 10 solutions on how to cope with the constant uncertainty. We’ve all read enough of those for the ages, and there are plenty of credible resources run by professionals who provide much needed assistance to communities that absolutely need it. Part confession part realization, part self obsessions. I’m not here to make it any better or worse because for now, what we have is what we’ve got. Making the most of it, is down to personal conviction and willpower. No one knows what’s next. Those who do claim to know, are wildly guessing and trying not to look panicked in the process.

Everyone is trying desperately to make sense of the invisible, the intangible and the bizarre. The invisible and visible enemies are unpredictable and divisive.

The ills of society are boiling up (again) to the surface everywhere we turn and because of a forced pause we’re called upon to actually look up from our navel, and actually pay attention to what is really going on.

As the weeks and months creep by, we’ve all been hit with a bout of nostalgia for a life we thought we missed, yet don’t really; and while the chaos is unfolding, the promises, the reassurances, the convictions that life will return to normal, are starting to wear thin.

What the hell is normal anyway? (and do we really long for it ?)

Did it really work for us the way we thought? Or are we called upon to let go of a life that was ill fitting anyway. This quasi reality is forcing some to reevaluate, for others to get lost, and for even more to get found. This is the new normal. It keeps morphing, and mutating everything we have come in contact with. Just like a (this) virus. Our perceptions of what normality is, are becoming challenged not only by it’s reversal, but by our ability to adapt despite the odds.

I don’t know what comes next.

I’m working on being okay with that, despite the panic and crippling fear of the unknown that we’re faced with, I’ve learned to understand that what I can’t change, I have no control over, what I can change I’m working to understand better. What will change, has to. Like many I’ve spoken with and listened to during this shift of consciousness, the common consensus is that something is desperately needed. Self reflection and mental and physical self care are at the forefront of this pandemic. Underneath all this the most important “anchors” being used to combat these moments of doubt and fear are knowledge and observation.

The answers to the questions keep shifting. What was real a few days ago seems like fiction now and vice versa. This ebbing and flowing of daily reality, is what we must adapt to in order to survive and thrive.

And adapt we have.

For the first 9 weeks, during the initial “pause”, I was compelled; driven even, to tap into moments of inner calm and inner focus, more than any other time in my life. It was never needed as much as it is now. Truth be told I lost my shit. Let’s be honest. Panic, fear, uncertainty, and crippling doubt, all came to the party. So I looked for the tools that I already had in my arsenal to find some equilibrium We all have the ability to tap into our inner anchors. Only then can we truly stabilize in the face of an outer (shit) storm.

Every week, every month every season has been different. Once equilibrium was reached, another wave of information, panic, doubt, fear and uncertainty has rocked our proverbial boats and a new tactic had to be implemented. I’m not a good sailor, these constant tacks, direction and course changes have left me dizzy, but after every change, like everyone in New York, whose lives have been changed . I had to become a better sailor by listening, being quiet and not letting the myriad of voices confuse my course.

Now as I write, in the early weeks of October, as the fall colors take over the streets of New York; its very clear that yet another shift has taken place. Many months into what seemed like a crazy experiment in human behavior, I turn to the things that stabilize me while turning away from things that no longer serve the current status quo. Now doubt and fear and anxiety have been replaced with a larger dose of conviction, determination and focus. The anchors dig deeper into the sand, in anticipation of another shift. they have become more staple in their purpose…

Now we must focus on the greater good. Not just personal gain.

Now we must focus on eradicating hate and division

Now we must focus on the next step forward.

Now after all this change, unrest, division and fear, the anchors are here to bring us home.

Stay tuned….

Join me on the socials 🙂

Drop by, keep in touch send a note and keep connecting.

Easter at a distance

Quarantine Culinary Connections Through Cultural Expressions

Easter is a thing. In Greece it’s a big thing. I can’t describe it in any other way; but as the most important religious holiday of the year. Christmas has nothing on Easter. Christmas is an American construct, Greek Easter is a religious and pagan ritual. Most Greeks just stick to the copious food and wine of the obligatory break to the 40 day long lent, that follows the days of distance from meat (aka Apokries) between February and April. Easter is a time of celebration and rejoicing following a time of renewal, rest, and (νηστεία- lent) that certainly dates back to the ancient Hellenic rituals cleaning before the coming of spring. It is a culmination of a journey from one pagan/christian holiday to another.

Easter is a huge thing in the Greek community of any major American City. Among Greeks Easter or Pascha is a unifier. We all celebrate it in small and big ways. I’ve never intentionally set foot in a church, I’m not religious and I’m largely a vegetarian and hardly drink but like so many others absolutely love Easter. Greek Easter is defined by three things meat wine and red eggs; plus a dash of spirit (yes the holy one). During this time of quarantine and self isolation, I wanted to find a way to bring the tradition of Easter Sunday lunch which turns into dinner, story telling, music playing and drinking into this time of quarantine and isolation. This year has been incredibly different, difficult and eye opening.

Easter is a time of gathering. Not just to “receive the holy light”, not only to gather in a church and listen to the midnight sermon, not just to eat the thick, hot aromatic leek, liver and entrails soup (served at the stroke of midnight on Sunday, but to be together with dear friends and lovers, family and people you care about. It’s about community, conversation, deep embraces and kisses on the cheek with the slight aftertaste of wine, salt and lamb grease. Easter is about flavors, music, and a promise of a bountiful summer. This year despite that aching feeling of isolation and lack of human interaction; didn’t feel any different. These things can still be shared, despite the distance.

I woke up this past Sunday morning with a strange joy I’ve not felt in a long time, because of Easter. Yes I the atheist vegetarian needed, wanted this connection with ritual, tradition and belief, plus lamb and potatoes in the oven (aka Αρνί με πατάτες στο φούρνο). This dish is synonymous, in its many different renditions with traditional Easter Day fare. Lamb on a spit or in the oven if you live in a city, is Easter on a plate. This time of quarantine has given me a chance to explore things that I’ve needed and wanted to understand better for myself, through the lens of forced separation from my community.

before

Easter is about family. The one you are born into and the one that you acquire along the way. We gather and share in this tradition, with those we love and cherish the most.

Easter is inclusive. Regardless of religion or belief, people gather to be together and share food and copious wine (I must stress this) with anyone who wants to be included.

after

Easter is about being close, about sharing stories into the late afternoon, before you take one last swig of wine, watching the sun quickly vanish into the horizon. While savoring the last morsel of potato covered in lamb grease that you will probably heat up again next week, you lick your fingers and taste just one last rush of thyme, rosemary and garlic; you promise yourself that next year, your embraces will linger a little longer, your stories will be that much more rich and the tradition regardless of our belief is there to bring us just a little closer.

Χρόνια πολλά….

More tomorrow from the quarantine diaries.

Quarantine Diaries: A strange quiet in the Air

How do we learn to navigate this ever changing new reality.

We are weathering an unpredictable storm. Massive life shirts in a matter of days. Every week that passes there is a new norm we must contend with. A quiet space we never had has suddenly been created along with a new rhythm to our lives. Everything and everyone we want so deeply to connect with has been kept away from us. Our loved ones out of reach, our moments of human connection so deeply skewed, distorted and altered beyond any previous experience or recognition. Technology brings us close, when at the same time it keeps us apart. This unending conundrum of how do we stay connected when we aren’t allowed.

This time of forced quiet and self-reflection is deeply needed. If we take this time apart from our daily lives, we can discover something far more important that we have not quite acknowledged. Quiet Time. I live in a pretty noisy neighborhood. Not as noisy as some parts of New York but like any densely populated part of the city; my neighborhood can be very busy. People come and go, cars drive by with loud radios playing and now the whole neighborhood is empty. The cars that used to honk at 7.30 in the morning are no longer there. The line that used to form in front of the cafe down the street is no longer there. No one is going to brunch, no one is hanging out till 2 am in front of a bar. The city is at a standstill. A held breath, waiting to exhale.

It’s a full moon. And I’m sitting in front of my window gazing in awe at this urban sky that for once seems clearer and more serene. More than any other time in the seven years I’ve lived in New York, this city is . Yet I feel an unease that can’t be explained. I associate New York with as much noise as possible and now the silence has given me a moment to really ponder what is important and what is frivolous.

As I grapple with the waves of fear, insecurity, calm, anger, calm, reassurance and back again. The silence allows for the thoughts to dissipate and looking up at the sky that surrounds us all, I’m comforted by the fact that we’re all in this. For how long? Predictions aren’t my game; but whatever the length of this pause, I hope we learn something useful for the next chapter of our lives.

Be Safe, Be Well, enjoy the silence.

27 Day Challenge Revisited- Quarantine Edition Day 1.

Finding balance in uncertain times.

It’s midnight March 29th, 2020. Two days after my 27 day challenge has drawn to a close; I celebrated my 42nd birthday in the confines of my living room, thankfully safe and in good health. Truth be told I’m lucky. I have a place to live, I have my health, and for a brief moment after I wake up, for about 10 minutes before I’m fully aware of time or the day, I allow myself the illusion that everything is normal.

Today was another rainy cinematic day in New York and despite the general fear and uncertainty surrounding our daily lives, I got into my bright aubergine raincoat and took a long overdue walk. I’ve been self quarantined for a full two weeks. The days keep blending into one another. I don’t know about you but the waves of fear, anger, panic, calm, self study, and quiet reflection are on rinse and repeat. I had an image of my self in my mind the other day of trying to stay afloat in the open sea, with choppy water and trying oh so desperately not to swallow sea water again and again. Being able to stay afloat mentally and emotionally is like calling upon all the skills I’ve ever studied over the years and actually putting them into full action. There is no more pretending here, either it will work or it won’t.

I’ve spoken to many of my close friends and one thing that keeps coming up is this deep desire for an anchor, a connection point. We’re all feeling a mixture of extreme feelings of loss, grief of whatever normalcy our lives had, and repeated moments of deep need to connect and be heard. Social distancing doesn’t however mean isolation. We are not alone. You are not alone. Keeping that balance however difficult is necessary, imperative even.

Reaching out, writing about this, on a daily basis as my new 27 day challenge, has morphed into an open diary, discussion hub and reflection center. I welcome anyone who would like to share their experiences in a live discussion that I will set up on zoom in the days to come.

Till tomorrow… ride the waves, and breathe.

Day 0. Soup For the Soul

Communities built, sustained, and healed on the sharing of a bowl of soup

This is a little bit of a departure from the hunkering down of previous daily posts. I needed to revisit a post I had been planning on sharing for some time but tonight is as good a time as any to talk about how communities sustain and protect each other not only in times of joy but also in times of need. During these very uncertain times, some of the communities I’ve been and continue to be a part of, and who have sheltered me over the years here in New York; are coming together to support, connect and sustain each other when isolation and a global health crisis has brought us to a very poigniant reconing.

I’ve been living in New York for seven years now. More than I ever expected to last and fewer than most would accept for a person calling themselves a New Yorker, so in this eternal grey area of half existence I have picked my communities from very different parts of this city. Many of these communities have opened their hearts to embrace, assist, accompany and comfort during this very challenging and stressful time. Without them I’m sure we would all go a bit mad. I have only placed a small pebble in this vast web of support but we all have something to offer and contribute during these trying times.

This post has been hard to communicate since a feeling of helplessness has overtaken many of us during these past few weeks. We are all in a state of being and not being. Existing and not existing. Communities of all forms are even more important now and thankfully more and more of them are becoming a resource and a virtual meeting place for those who might need it. Yoga and meditation has become my guide in very uncharted waters, as more centers are using their vast network to become a compass in a very uncertain storm.

Yoga classes, lectures, live streaming, meditation and dance sessions and my own practice has been a life saving line and connection to the community that has in the past and even more now been a savior and peace of mind. Daily meditation sessions, breathwork, movement and walks, keep the body and mind connected. Now more than ever my old Ashtanga family is coming together to share, inspire and support. Without that I am sure my capacity to deal with the extra stress and feeling of uncertainty would inevitably become that much harder.

There are countless other resources out there that are being created on a daily basis. Art, dance, theater, music. These things matter, now more than ever. They are vital for all of us to become closer, kinder, and more productive. Writing on this blog daily brings me closer to those who might be feeling exactly as I am and I’m determined more than ever to keep going. Reaching out, connecting in these times of isolation ( self or otherwise) is key to weathering this dark storm. If you need to move move, if you need to breathe breathe if you need to read read. And if you need comfort, there is always a community available to you, no matter where you might be.

As I sit in my kitchen with a piping hot bowl of homemade vegetable soup, I can’t help but wonder how we build who we are when we find ourselves in between places, and in great uncertainty, things we have otherwise have taken for granted, just cement a community in the simplest ways.

In trying times like these, we are called to build families, connective tissue and communities in ways that are never clear cut, but always necessary for survival and healing.

Till tomorrow… stay strong.

Day 20 & 21 Springtime Poetry

Committing to the daily writing and posting challenge this year, more than any other year, has been of utmost importance. A sense of continuity for myself but also for you few but lovely loyal readers out there. It will probably continue to post thoughts, stories, poems, as I will not stop on the 27th of March; which was the original deadline for this daily posting challenge. Until then here’s a small catch up on the slightly interrupted flow.

This past week has undoubtedly been a strange, stressful and unexpected for us all. I’ve been remiss the last two posts so I am making a delayed submission with some extras before proceeding as scheduled with day 22.

March 20 marks the official day of spring. March 21 we celebrate world poetry day and in light of those two very special occasions I sat down and leafed through my favorites; to pick a poem that I love dearly and want to share with you all. Spring is when in Greece we dawn our march bracelets and count down the weeks and months till summertime approaches. March is known as a complicated month; unpredictable; precocious; unstable, and this time it’s reached a spectrum of unpredictability and fear of the unknown that has gripped me as I am sure many of you out there. Despite that I can’t not write and share and communicate that this is not just about fear. I took a walk in the park near my home today for what may be the last time before New York completely shuts down all non essential travel. There is a peaceful and eerie quiet in the streets. There are less people out than would have been on a sunny day but I captured some moments on my walk around the block and meditated on what I’m truly grateful for. What I felt more strongly than ever is the need to keep going.

March 20, 2020

We must encourage art and writing and story telling to continue and hold a place for creativity to flourish even through we’re all faced with these incredibly uncertain times. A daytime breeze is still beautiful, a walk in sun is healing, a beautiful song uplifting and a poem re-connects us all. I’ll keep posting and do hope to hear back from some of you wherever you might be.

Till tomorrow: A poem by one of my favorites E.E Cummings