Tag: New York

To what comes next-

Picture by Robert Valenzuela ( @3rd.night)

I have had a recent lull to my writing, in stark contrast to the frenzy of past months. My spring feverish ideas and thoughts left freely from my brain onto the page. I truly enjoyed my every day post commitment I set out to complete back in March (birthday challenge) . Truly nothing has kept me more on my toes, than my yoga/ exercise practice and my writing.

As of late I’ve had what many would call a freeze of my creative flow. I don’t know if this is a set back or a regroup, but for what its worth, I would not be a particularly good blogger, if I didn’t share this stagnancy with my small yet powerful and encouraging audience (share my posts with your friends!).

I’m feeling a little stuck.

There are a plethora of things I want to share my thoughts on, but in this growing cacophony of opinions and thoughts my mind is becoming overwhelmed with the opinions of everybody else, to really be able to be a valid voice in the mix. The reminder that depression, and suicide is so openly discussed, took me back to my days of battling depression, and how I was able through very lucky circumstances and good people to get out of bed, put one foot in front of the other, pull myself out of dark cavernous thoughts, and figure shit out.

I battle with self doubt, body image issues, self esteem issues, and the list goes on. Yet here I am writing about it, even though I’m still stuck. I often promise I will share as much of myself as possible it’s the only way to write.

There is definitely a chaotic order to the way I convey my thoughts on this blog, and I appreciate those who’ve followed and continue to follow my musings, poetry, analysis and reflections.

For now I will leave you with a small gratitude list. When you get stuck, make one too, it helps.

  1. I’m grateful for my health. Two dear friends who I deeply care for are battling cancer. They are warriors, who absolutely give me courage to be even better and more resilient.
  2. I’m extremely grateful for my home here in New York. It’s a sanctuary and a quiet space, in this overwhelming city.  Every night I sit on my balcony; on these warm summer nights, and smile at how blessed I am to be here. I miss Greece and my home there every waking moment, but having the opportunity to travel and live here isn’t available to many of my fellow country men and women. Thousands of refugees are still in limbo on many Greek islands bordering Turkey. Children and their families are being torn apart as we speak at US borders. As we all battle internal crisis, so much turmoil is occurring on a daily basis. That forces me to think twice before I forget where I’ve come from.
  3. I’m grateful for rekindled and real friendships, from the embers of dead affairs. And I’m grateful I recently escaped a toxic affair before it created further damage.
  4. I’m grateful for Art. As I’ve mentioned in past posts and I’ll say it again, Art is the only thing that can and has created meaningful change. Art touches and effects everyone in small and big ways and is and will continue to be a huge vehicle for truth, change, and progress.

I’m still stuck with my writing, but I’m grateful I can share that too. When overwhelmed with life’s rocky path, be grateful for what you have to overcome it.

May all beings be Happy and Free.

Lokah Samastah Sukhino Bhavantu-

7 Hours Difference — A life

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-What time is it there ?

-2.35pm

-I never remember the time difference.

-7 hours difference, it has been my whole life.

Time zones have been a part of my daily life ever since I can remember. My mother would contact her relatives in the United States when we lived in Greece, long before social media of course, or even a steady phone line (for those who remember a time before smart phones). I would call my American grandmother (at great cost for international calls) once a month, and all other communication was with letter writing and post cards. (yes letters; remember those??)

At 14 my parents and I moved to the United States, where maintaining communication with friends and loved ones back in Greece was an exercise not only in keeping up with daily life, but also the Greek language. I distinctly recall my friend sending me spelling corrections in my letters to her when she would reply. (thanks Georgia after all those years).

At 23 I moved back to Athens, and communicated  weekly with cell phones and regular calls and emails with my friends in London, Paris and the U.S.  I would stay awake in the very late hours (12- 3am) to talk to my friends in New York, and try to catch up as best as we could with cheap international calling cards just to fill each other in on our lives.

Now back in New York with chats, Viber, Whats-app, Facebook messenger, Instagram, time is relative. Time difference almost doesn’t matter. I talk to my close friends after they have put their kids to bed. They stay up for a night cap and a quiet moment, and I text back and forth at 5 am in the morning with my cousins and best friends before I go to work. I live between two time zones, always carving time to connect, talk, share our lives whenever possible.

It’s somewhat easier to stay connected with technology on our side; but still that phone call once a week, once a month, or even once a day; happens between those seven hours difference. I feel like a double agent, calculating, managing time in a split world between the one I live here in New York and the one I live with my friends and family back in Greece. We steal moments from our present lives to share stories, gossip, news, family pictures, and most recently most of my writing here.

What time is it there?  5.30am–

What are you doing up that early??

Taking time to talk with you…

What time zone are you in?

 

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The Persistence of Memory– Salvador Dali

 

 

 

 

Liquid Courage

You drew me to the water’s edge and let me taste your smile.

I laughed at all your silly moves, your stupid jokes just made me swoon,
The way you adjust your shirt, was magical to me.
I stare at our reflections wondering what radical world I live in that gets to have you in it.
I’m in too deep this strange mystique is making my body overflow.
Love is like a river flowing through me.
Paint brushed skies and lines. Bridges to your heart are paved with golden light.
I just might need a minute to breathe.
Like ivory and ebony you play my tune perfectly.
Something’s come over me… it’s making the broken parts seem whole again
once again I can see the beauty within me.
My body was made to be next to yours,
a pull so profound it’s like breathing.
You make my heart swell and my chest expand
and then I remember to take a breath again.
It’s like cheating death.

Day 27. – Paris is Burning

Post 27 of 27.

View from the Pompidu Museum- Marais

I am posting with a small delay as I was in transit between Paris and London and I wanted to take the time to write about this last day of my 27 day challenge, and what it meant to take this much needed journey.

London Bridge 
Street Art in the London Bridge neighborhood of London

This year I celebrate my 40th birthday. It’s a milestone of sorts, as I’m sure it is for all who cross that threshold. I never knew what to expect of this day, whether I would have a family by now, whether I would be living in a big house or a small cottage in a village somewhere, or what I would be doing for a living. I remember when I was 18 or 19 calculating the year I would turn 40, and it was way beyond my comprehension at the time; but now here we are. For better or worse I’ve arrived… and new challenges and paths are beckoning to be explored.

Street Art in the Les Halles neighborhood of Paris

I was speaking to my mother, who reminded me of a memory she had of me when she turned 40. We were in northern Athens, at our then home, in what you would call an “affluent” neighborhood now; but back then, it was in an area no one wanted to live at. I was riding my pink and white bicycle with its training wheels; it was 1982 or ’83 and my mum had just turned 40 that December. I clearly can picture her memory; my mother was slender, as always, with a beautiful smile and a determined gaze, short curly light brown hair and big square glasses. My father good looking and in his late 30’s, a hit of seventies sideburns still donned his face and he wore aviator glasses. A year later we would take our first trip to Paris as a family.

The magic of Paris through my 6 year old eyes, will never match any other trip I’ve taken since. I was in awe. We would visit many times after that, but that first trip was like new world had been revealed. I had never seen such beauty in my life. Glimpses of the Louvre museum before the pyramids were built, the clock of the Muse d’Orsay from up close and the smell of the Parisian air, as we walked through Montmartre and the “dangerous” artistic neighborhoods of the 18th Arrondisment.

I remember still the taste of rich chocolate and french food at a small restaurant in Place Dauphine, now probably long gone. I visit that same little park every time I go to Paris. I sit on a bench; eat a pain au chocolat, and dream of my six year old self walking up the stairs of this larger than life Brasserie with sumptuous deserts lining each step.

Today I celebrate my 40th year, in one of the most poetic, beautiful places in the world, with some of my most treasured memories, and most treasured friends. Cheers, santé, Γεια μας. Onward to this next chapter.

Where, do you remember your most fond childhood memory, and where would you travel to next?

 

Day 22. Flight

Day 22 of 27.

Caught in flight.

 

The thing about flight is that it signifies freedom and direction. It’s full of possibility and promise. Traveling, seeing the world, being connected, being reunited, is a gift that gives us many returns. Whether we are flying away from something or towards something, is a fine line.

Escape or Destination?

Exploration towards, or walking away from another. The need for travel is about the realm of possibility and change. It’s a way to escape and embrace. A way to connect to a place and disconnect from a place. A dear friend asked me when I was leaving Greece five years ago, whether I was escaping something or going towards something.

At that time in my mind I was very clear; I’m going towards my future, a better life, a dream explored. Now after five years; I am not as sure as I was then. This questioning we all have of why we choose to travel and leave the familiar behind is a constant in my thoughts. But for now I’m caught in flight, and enjoying the ride.

What do you love about travel?  And where does your heart lead you?

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?

Day 15/16. A Room with A View

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Photo by Robert V (@3rd. night)

Day 15 & 16 of 27

Today the phrase “your home is where your heart is” is my topic of self conversation.

As I get closer and closer to the end of this experiment of daily postings about my observations, thoughts, emotions, opinions, and ideas; this phrase came up and it’s the only thing that seemed important for me to talk about.

I’m the daughter of an expat American woman who grew up in a small town in western Massachusetts; but spent most of her adult life (45 years to be exact) in Athens, Greece; and a Greek man born in Athens, who despite all his protests has moved between Greece and the United states twice. I’m the amalgam of one true roamer and one homebody (nope it’s not my mum). I have moved house 20 times since I was born, and have moved and lived in Athens, Western Massachusetts, London, upstate New York, New York City, London, Athens, Mykonos and again New York. (if you’re not dizzy; I am!)

What comes to mind is a phrase in Greek which loosely translates to “the land you live in now, is your homeland). “Όπου γης και πατρίς” which is originally attributed to the politician and orator Cicero. This encapsulates the whole way in which I’ve navigated my travels and my many “homes”.

Πατρίδα-in Greek means homeland (fatherland to be more precise); the place where you were born; which is very different from Χώρα-Chora or country (also referring to the village/the countryside) which can be seen as a place of residence or nationality. In recent years I’ve seen myself as a nomad with no country, no homeland and no place to call home. I come from Greece, I was born there, I lived there most of my life, but as of now it is no longer my home.  I no longer have a family home that I grew up in, I don’t have a bedroom with all my childhood memories. I carry that childhood, and those memories with me wherever I go. I’m somewhat of an exile, having chosen to leave my home in Greece, and come to New York “for a better life”; and not really wanting to. As most exiles I feel uprooted, and this idea of connection to where I now live is quite frail.

This fragility of course does not come without a better understanding of oneself in connection to identity and belonging. A house is just a roof over our heads, but a home is where we feel comforted, protected, familiar, and at peace. I’ll bring two more Greek words to the mix to show the complexity of meaning and feeling.

οικία (oikia)– means house or home

οικεία (oikeia) — means familiar or something you find comforting

For now my house is in New York City, but it does not feel like my home, so the heart keeps roaming, and if my life is any indication of a pattern, it will roam again.

So when you close the door to your home tonight make sure that you feel at home, comforted and safe.

So… Where do you feel most at home?

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Day 11. — Two sides

Day 11 of 27. This image was snapped in a private club in New York City. I was invited to a lovely classical music event, with mostly very interesting people. I left feeling I got a small glimpse of the elite high end world of New York, that even now is a thing of legends, stories, fact and fiction. There a very few times in my life that I have come across this secret world of the wealthy and privileged. I don’t say this to be a bad or good thing, just something I know very little about. I thought about what it would feel like to be part of this societal and economic stratum, and I can’t wrap my head around the concept. It somehow doesn’t feel normal to me, yet here it is; alive and well and right next door to us. Two worlds exist in New York more so than any other place I’ve visited; ( ok London may be more extreme in this). And this one struck me as a world stuck in time; unaware of the societal and social changes the rest of us see every day. This world of wealth and privilege seems very isolated and unaware of the rest of the world.

The space I visited exuded isolation and exclusivity in every part of its existence, yet it was absolutely beautiful and captivating to be there. I felt like I was a fly on the wall absorbing this ” other” world and the rules that form it.

I am glad I have the opportunity to see glimpses of this world but at the same time knowing full well that I’m a visitor; staying a short while, only to return to a life I’m enjoying fully.

What do you observe in everyday life that captures your attention ?

Day. 9 Hearts Break-

Eyes Wide Shut
Picture by Robert V. (@3rd.night)

Day 9 of 27.

There is something about poetry and spoken word that can’t be expressed in any other way.  This evening I am performing at a gallery, event opening in Brooklyn, and I’m terrified and excited to perform my work. This piece of writing among others is very personal to me. Over the past two years I’ve been doing some open mic performances, and although I’m no stranger to performance and being on stage, spoken word and poetry is something I never had the courage to perform- until now.

 

This is dedicated to the one I love(d).

 

I’M DONE

No you don’t get to fuck me and say there’s a hundred ways to love me and then disappear.

You don’t get to be “friends” when you don’t trust me and fill me with fear.

You don’t get to share my heart and then then tear it apart.

That’s not art.

 

I’m not a pretty girl but at least I’m smart

I have fire and desire and I know how to play the part.

You don’t get to be in my movie and have a cameo role

I want a leading man not a stand in.

I’m not a hole

 

You can’t fuck me when it pleases you.

I told you I’d be there for you and I needed you.

And what did you do?

You got your hand in my pussy and you thought, I’m all for the taking.

but you’re mistaken.

I’m not making this up.

Your times up.

 

I gave YOU my fire, you gave into MY desire and your face lit up.

That’s what’s up.

But you chose to quash it and wash it away as a casualty of your half assed reality.

Bull shit. I call it and you’re full of it.

 

You’re emotionally bankrupt and you’re asking for a loan?

I know I Look like a charity but this is moral depravity

I guess you missed my clarity when I told you it was all or nothing

Your legal tender is of no value here.

 

But since you don’t understand I’m going to tell you once more….

I can’t be seen with a man without a passion for life.

You wanna stay with your half-baked excuses and look for constant muses?

 

When you know there can only be ONE.

And I’m done…

 

Check out more and maybe see a live performance tonight Friday March 9th on Facebook live or Instagram

Visit Image Gallery in Brooklyn. (@imagegallery)

Follow for more updates: @thegreekrabbit 

 

Live performance Clip !

Art and Hustle – Poetry by Eleana S Kouneli 3 – YouTube