Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Walking the Mean Streets
I returned to my roots, New York City, last week for a few days, to work with clients and students. I teach writing and coach clients who are writing books or screenplays. Because I lived there for 23 years, it is easy for me to get right back into the New York speeded-up rhythm. Adrenaline pumping, up and down the cement subway steps, screeching trains, sirens, horns, bodies, bodies everywhere, casual conversations at bus stops, on subway platforms. But, maybe because I had just spent a week in Maine, my tolerance for this speeded-up life diminished quickly. Walking the streets, I felt as if I were a figure in a video game, self-propelled, dodging bodies in a fight for survival.
When I’m in a hurry in the city, and I’m always in a hurry, I find myself slipping in and out of tight spaces, between trashcans, fruit stands, a businessman with briefcase swinging and toddlers moving slowly behind moms. I estimate how much space is needed to fit between all these targets and check my watch – am I late? Wishing that straggler in the blue dress would move more quickly, that those moms would stop dawdling, and that taxi cab would go forward so I could walk in the street for ten feet to pass the people in front of me. It’s an art form this people dodging. When I reach my destination – a big space with few people – I exhale for a moment and then out into the mean streets again, fighting for space. Inhale and hold the breath. Get to a space. Exhale. Eat. I wonder whether this dodge ball challenge might be good for my brain – I must always be attentive, solving problems as I dart and weave. And then suddenly it becomes too much. My brain explodes. I feel depressed, anxious, overwhelmed, and angry. I call my boyfriend and tell him I’m checking into a nunnery. Stop the world I want to get off.
I don’t feel like this in Maine, I tell myself. Because, I realize, when I begin to feel anxious in Maine, I walk outside and look at the stars, go for a walk, listen to the brook gurgle its way through the woods.
So the next morning, early, I kidnap my friend Linda’s grandchildren – nine and twelve – and walk to Central Park. As soon as I see the trees, I feel as if I am among friends. This feels better. This feels like home. We laugh as three white terriers race by us on the path to the dog park; watch as sparrows alight on the boats at the boat basin. Two goldens and a lab jump into Bethesda Fountain and wade around lapping and panting. People walk by – walk at a leisurely pace—and smile and nod. We order a coffee, but don’t have enough money for the sticky bun the children want. and the stand by the boat basin and the gentleman behind the bar gives us a sticky bun for free with a big smile because the girls remind him of his daughter. Here is a benign universe, here, among the trees, lakes, birds and dogs, people are free to be kind... The park is full of volunteers who plant flowers and pull weeds. They are friendly and full of information.
A friend of mine counts trees for the city of New York. There are almost 600,000 trees in the city of New York. Kelvin says counting trees made him feel better, keeps him connected to nature. If there were a million trees in New York City, would it be a kinder, gentler place?
I leave the park restored, ready for a second round of dodge ball, but looking forward to getting on the train and getting out of town. As I sit here and write this, I feel so blessed to be surrounded by trees and lakes, birds and deer and people who value the land. As we approach the Solstice, let’s give thanks for the bounty that surrounds us, and commit to preserving it.
Notes: Thank you for your responses to my first blog. Now that I am back in Maine for the summer, I will check out the labyrinth on Route 52, learn more about the cows vs. people ratio, and figure out a way to use my experience in the mean streets to make this land a better place to live. Any thoughts?
posted by kathrinseitz at 8:25 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home