To Be Carefree

I'm trying to remember what it meant to be carefree. It seems like an act of pure will now to exist in this world and just let things be. I just can't seem to manage it. It's like something that only children can master, the art of enjoying everything in the moment as it is without fear or worry or the burden of what the next day brings. I envy those little beings. They are able to laugh and cry without any shame. They don't care if you're staring at them or judging them. They live. And in that living there is something freeing, because they don't let the things of this world worry them. They are in the moment. This moment. Right now.

My moments consist of memories. Every single act I make reminds me of another time. It's like constant deja vu. For example, reading in the sunshine always transports me back to my childhood where nothing existed except for me and my books. I could remember the smell of them clearly, earthy and deep. The feeling of anticipation as I turned the page back then felt almost haunting as I'd turn the page of my current book in the present. It was as if I've been transported back in time and I was 12 years old again, with nothing but the end of the story stretching along those hot summer days.

Or I'd walk through a neighborhood in Brooklyn where private houses stood on either side of the street like quiet soldiers and I'd remember the many walks home from school. I'd find myself staring at the shadows of the trees on the sidewalk, jumping on the patches of sunlight that the leaves permitted to shine down. For a moment, I was weightless. My life is constant nostalgia, constant parallels. I live in this world and the next, the next being a world of events already gone by, already lived. They appear like mirages in my vision and I succumb to them, aware of how this life mimics the one of long ago. Except for one main thing. I've forgotten what it means to be carefree, to skip in the patches of sunlight that the trees provide or to laugh and be silly without the self consciousness that comes from caring what others think. Always, always I would turn and look around, worried that someone had caught me in a moment of reverie. I've forgotten how to let things be. Even though the memory sits upon my heart pulsing with each action I take, a mirror of a childhood that follows me wherever I go.

Burden for the Sake of Love

Nobody's perfect. It's something that we tell each other over and over again, reminding the people in our lives that to err is to be human. We make mistakes. We falter. We fall. We worry and stress and we struggle. And many of us do this alone. We keep our problems inside, believing that to let them out or to share our feelings will do no good. Or maybe we are afraid of people seeing a part of us that may be less perfect than the persona we put forth. Many of us find it safer to deal with our burdens by ourselves. But in love, what was once solitary is no longer. That includes our feelings. 

Recently I realized that in a relationship, my worries and fears were no longer just my own. It became the problems and worries of the person I was in a relationship with. It bothered me, seeing that my problems spilled over into his. I'm essentially a solitary person. I deal with my worries as I've always had. Alone. And yet here was this other person asking me to let it go, let it out and talk. And when I refused, believing that this was the right way to handle things, I'd see the hurt on his face and know that it wasn't. It wasn't. So I'd talk and cry and feel very exposed and vulnerable. And he would reassure and gently offer solutions or advice. Or he would just listen because that's maybe all I needed at that moment, an ear to soak in the anxiety plaguing me at night. and I would feel a little sadness bloom in my heart because I've just done something I didn't want to do. I've burdened him. 

But let's switch this around. Let's say I was paying him a visit and I noticed that he seemed withdrawn, sad, distant. Maybe he was talking less or when he did respond it would be with impatience in his voice. I'd wonder what was wrong. I'd want to know. I'd ask him and maybe he would say it was nothing but I would know otherwise. So I'd give him a little space. But in truth I'd be waiting for him to talk. I'd want him to let me in and talk to me about what's bothering him. And if he did I would comfort him and reassure him and offer some advice or a solution if I could. I would listen if that was all that was needed, just so he can get these feelings off his chest. I would willingly accept his burden, that emotional weight that he has been carrying with him. And the reason I would is simple. 

I love him. And because I love him I am willing to accept some of the weight of his burden. When I think about it in those terms I realize that the reason we allow the people we care about to vent or to cry on our shoulders is because we love them. And allowing them to let go is a way of showing them that we accept that they are not perfect, that they falter; and we offer our arms, our shoulders, our ears, our hearts in support. This is something we do willingly, not because we are forced (though if you are being forced to be a receptacle for all of those powerful emotions or if venting also coincides with emotional/physical or any other kind of abuse then there is something very damaging happening in that relationship and I would advise you to seek help).

It is like the sculpture of Atlas, holding the world on his shoulders. We can see how the weight of the world burdens him and yet he doesn't drop it. The world is beautiful. The world is filled with some much to love. It is worth the weight and the struggle. And so he keeps holding on. 

That is the nature of loving another. You are each other's wings. You keep them from falling. You are the shoulders that carry their weight. And they are yours. Together you find balance and all that may try to bring you down, is lifted up. 

Project Parks-Inwood Hill Park

Yesterday, even though it wasn't the best day weather-wise (spotty showers, damp, humid) I decided to visit Inwood Hill Park with a friend. It's located at the uppermost edge of Manhattan, accessible only by the A train taken to the last stop. Honestly, I've never travelled that far up so it was kind of exciting for me. It was just a new experience in this city I call home. At the last stop I exited the subway station and walked towards the park. A set of stone steps greeted me. And so began my ascent into a part of New York City that I have never been before.

The first thing I noticed was the silence. All the cars, all the sounds of people, all the hustle and bustle of city life...it was as if it could not enter here. The sudden quietude was disorienting. I realized just how quickly it could feel like you're entering a different world, or a different lifetime even. All the buildings, all the modern creations of man had no effect here. This was nature, pure and simple. It's a rare moment indeed when you can be in NYC without FEELING like you're there. I walked on.

I noticed this carving on a tree. It was a cute little surprise to stumble upon while walking down the path. I couldn't help taking a picture. Lol.

I realized why they called it Inwood Hill Park. The climbing could get a little steep. I was definitely getting a good workout as well as beautiful views. All I could see was green and I loved it. Here spring was in full bloom. I could hear birds chirping high up in the trees and each path I decided to take (there were moments where the paths forked) led me deeper and deeper into the park. I was glad that I brought along a friend. Yet even though we had each other for company, nature demanded our attention. We gave it willingly. 

The general quiet, serene nature of the park allowed my mind to wander. The famous poem by Robert Frost popped into my head and I found myself reciting part of the poem "The Road Not Taken".

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth...

It's beautiful to me how a walk through the woods can inspire poetry. The merging of thought and nature is art, simple and organic and powerful.

Eventually the path I chose led me to a clearing where I saw a bright green meadow and a body of water I think may have been the Hudson River. There was also this sign with interesting information about Inwood Hill Park. The park consists of a forest, a salt marsh, meadow and many flora and fauna including the Bald Eagle. I was hoping that I would get a glimpse of the majestic bird so that I could take a picture of it. For bird watchers, this would be the perfect place to be since there are a reported 150 species of birds that have been spotted here. For those interested in Geology, there are various kinds of bedrock in this park including marble. For the history fans out there, Inwood was once home to a Native American village. And for the general nature lovers, this area provides a beautiful place to hike and enjoy the beauty that is Mother Earth. 

Here you could see a picture of the Hudson River and some ducks relaxing by the waterside.  I walked along the pathway by the water, enjoying the peacefulness of the day and the fact that the area  was crowd free. It's hard to find a serene spot in the city that isn't packed full of people. I had plenty of room to roam. I savored it. 

My friend allowed me to take a photo of him enjoying a moment of peace in this frequently hectic city. Thank you so much Cliff!

Every now and again I'd come across a runner or just a person looking to do the same thing I was doing, enjoying the outdoors without the congestion. This little fellow happened to be straggling behind his owner who had walked farther up ahead. She was following behind me for a while and when I turned to take this picture, she politely stopped and allowed me to do so. 

I thought somehow the bedrock on that side of the water would spell something out for me but alas, only a solitary "c" could be seen. I wonder what it stood for. The only words my friend and I could come up with happened to be food related lol.

I am obsessed with the concept of a few things. One of those things are  pathways (doors, tunnels, corridors, hallways) and the other is the juxtaposition of nature and industrial. There's something so compelling about seeing the massive structure of a manmade steel bridge and then the delicate curve of leaves on the trees and the sharp tips of branches brushing up against it. The bright splash of green coinciding next to the cold grey shows two worlds forced to coexist. I love looking at the two together, it makes me feel as if we can all exist on the same plane no matter how vastly different we are.

More paths showed me the way. At this point the wind had started to pick up. The leaves rustled gently. The feeling was...otherworldly. Once again there was no one around. I could see the water through the break in the trees. I saw part of a railroad track and thought about about the duality of man and nature, how we exist beside each other, holding our own power. But the power of nature is ancient, and mankind is still young compared to even the youngest forest. We are spring blooms while nature has already seen many winters. I looked at the trees to either side of me and thought of what they must of have seen, a world ever-changing, ever expanding, pushing their boundaries back further as we humans expand and evolve and desire more. There was a wildness to the green around me that I found captivating. No matter what, we couldn't control this. Nature is untamable.

My friend Cliff once again played a good sport and allowed me to take a photo of him.

I'm not really good with the names of flowers but I saw some pretty little ones while walking and decided to snap a photo. 

I had walked for over an hour, time moved way too fast when you are unaware of it. I knew that that though there was plenty more to see I had to save that for another time. While enjoying the last length of this walk, I saw the train tracks and once again couldn't resist taking a photo. Man and nature. There's something beautiful to me in the contrast. I guess because I exist in the world of man but will always appreciate nature. This walk through the park showed me that. I loved the feeling of setting foot in another world but at the end of the day, I live among the cars and the computers and the pulse of a society growing day by day, become more advanced and maybe tragically, more removed from nature. It's important to put down the phones and the tablets and come back to where the trees grow. Center ourselves. Appreciate that there is more to the world than skyscrapers and technology, there's nature in abundance, waiting for us to acknowledge it and remember its beauty. That's something I must always keep in mind. 

The Fall

I often daydream about living a different life. Not in a "woe is me" kinda way, but more in a "hmmm what if" kinda way. I would watch a music video or see a play (on or off broadway) or a really good movie and wonder how it would be to live that life. In fact, as a child I would listen to my favorite songs and close my eyes, imagining the kind of music video I would put together for it. I still do that actually. I guess it's because it's fun for me to wonder and imagine. That's something that never left me, even as I've become an adult. 

I think about the people who make it on broadway, or the ones who are directing those music videos or acting on screen and I try to imagine how they got there. Hard work? Sacrifice? Chance? Luck? How did those who are able to create, whether it be a riveting character or beautiful crafted visual style, rise up to the level they are now. I feel like the process is like a roller coaster going up, up, up. You climb and you slip and you climb again and don't stop until you reach the pinnacle. I also think about the fall. How fast it came for some celebrities and well-known icons. It's slippery up there at the top. 

I think that why you must always keep climbing. Or find the plateau. It's the only way to avoid the fall. 

Then my mind wandered to the ones who can't seem to make it. The ones in which the bottom is all they've ever known. I thought about the struggle and despair of it all, having a desire but unable to see it through. It's heartbreaking. But even then, the dream is too powerful to give up on. It fuels them. They keep trying to climb up. 

I'd like to be able to be a climber. Reaching upward until I've found my peak. Balancing there and creating that plateau. But there's always struggle and that causes so many slips and trips that I often wonder if I will ever get up there. But I firmly believe in the determined spirit. I believe in the people that never give up. They are beacons, those dreamers. I want to shine like they do. Even when times get dark, I want to shine. 

Tears in the Dark

I don't think it's weird to cry alone in the darkness of your room. I don't think it's weird at all. I did it. Last night in fact. And I'll say one thing, sometimes living this life requires a few tears, even if the only person present to wipe those tears away is you. 

Last night I cried until I exhausted myself. I felt lonely and tired and sick of being lonely and tired even though I had just enjoyed a wonderful day with a good friend. I felt lonely because that wonderful day couldn't last forever. I felt tired because the loneliness is not a new thing. Now, this kind of lonely isn't the result of having no friends or family. I'm lucky enough to have befriended and been born alongside a group of really amazing, talented, kind-hearted, beautiful people. I felt lonely because...well just because. 

No. That isn't good enough. 

I felt lonely because even though I'm smiling and laughing and having a great time, the night always leaves me with just my thoughts for company.  

And my thoughts suck. 

Especially when it turns to the general direction my life has taken and the offerings I, as an adult human being, is able to give the world. My thoughts can be downright cruel. Even a a bit exaggerating but that doesn't stop it from rattling away. And I felt a loneliness settle within me when I realized there is no one to talk to about this... No one who would gladly listen for free at least. And so here I am in my room, with my shitty, mean-spirited thoughts for company. And I'm looking at my vision boards and the notes I wrote in the time of yesteryear and I feel tragically unfulfilled and old and pretty useless. And I haven't washed the makeup off my face yet and it's past 11 at night and I kinda wanna write a really pathetic status on Facebook but honestly what good would that do so I put away my hopefulness from yesteryear and I drag my sobbing body to the light switch, cut it off and collapse on my bed. My tears were multifaceted, with no real purpose except to engage in the act of releasing themselves. I let them go. 

And I cry for a bit, relishing in all that overwhelms me; feeling incredibly sorry for myself. And then, eventually my tears stop. I'm left in the darkness with eyes wide open and only my breath to guide me. I'm waiting for something to happen, for a ray of moonlight to touch my face like God's own ever-loving presence. 

I turn to the window. The moon is out. It is only concerned with its own haunting glow. But I look at it and I feel better. I wipe my tear-crusted face. I sit up. There is no sound in the darkness save for my own breathing. My own steady breathing. The world hasn't ended. My sobs haven't brought about Armageddon. 

 I don't feel great. But I don't feel as bad as I did when I originally started crying. So I just sit there. Alone. A little lonely. And I get up, wash my face, brush my teeth and head for bed.   

It's past 1 in the morning. My sleep is deep and dreamless. 

This Morning

I woke up this morning to the rising sun radiating a deep, warm gold on the water. I was so moved by the sight that I didn't even think to take a photo. I woke up earlier than my alarm and didn't feel tired. I felt alive. And safe. And I realized that I was witnessing a moment that I take for granted far too often.

Usually I wake up in such a state of disrepair and exhaustion that I barely have the will to look around me. I get ready and leave the house without a second glance. I go through the motions of the day as if I were a wind up doll. 

I mimic the act of living. 

But today...

Today I felt something stir within me. I looked out at the waters and the sunrise and the sky shining such a pure blue and I felt thankful that I lived to see a morning such as this. It was beautiful. I wish to have more mornings like this. 

Project Parks- Sunset Park

If you're resident of Brooklyn, Ny or you just love visiting the borough, you've probably been to Prospect Park at least once (I'll be covering Prospect Park at a later date). It's right next to the central Brooklyn Public Library, and close to the Brooklyn Museum so what's not to love? However, there are other parks in BK that have their own special charm. One of them is a neat little patch of green called Sunset Park. Located at 44th street and 6th avenue, the N or R trains to 45th street will take you here.

Nestled in a neighborhood filled with diversity, Sunset Park offers a nice reprieve from the shops, restaurants and busy, crowded energy that the area provides. It looks unassuming from the outside but don't let that fool you. Once inside you are met with a series of pathways. Whichever one you choose will take you on a nice little stroll past picnickers, children playing, and bike riders. It's really a lovely experience.

If you choose to visit now, you'll see cherry blossoms still in bloom. I got a chance to admire the soft pink colors today. The way they contrasted with green leaves of the trees next to them was a beautiful sight. I love spring!

While walking I came across an artist, sketching the portrait of an old tree. Children nearby stopped and watched her while she drew the likeness of the trunk with quick, precise strokes of her pencil. She seemed unfazed by all the attention, choosing instead to immerse herself in her work. I love it when people are able to find art and beauty in everyday things. This tree is definitely quite distinguishing in its own way.

This park may not be the most well known in Brooklyn, but it definitely offers one of the most attractive features that the borough has to offer; a beautiful view of the Manhattan skyline.

Because of the park's high vantage point, you can also look out and enjoy a view that most people would envy. Walk a little farther up on the paths and you can even see the faint image of the Statue of Liberty as well as Staten Island and New Jersey. 

It's a nice place to come and enjoy a picnic or just to walk and see the sights. I'm glad I made the trip and visited this park. I'm sure as its name implies, that it must have spectacular views at sunset. However a daytime visit was really quite beautiful and a perfect way to spend this lovely spring day.