A New Year’s Meditation

Happy New Year!

Today marks not only the first day of 2019, the birth of a new year, but the rebirth of countless people around the world who strive to keep “New Year’s Resolutions.”

Funny – Humans have been making resolutions in some form or another for at least 4,000 years, writes one contributor to the History channel.

Back then, the Babylonians (whose year began in what we’d consider mid-March, when crops were planted) made promises to the gods, expecting good fortune if their promises were kept throughout the year.

The Romans adopted this idea, as well, and the very month of January is named after the Roman god Janus, the two-faced god who faces both into the past and into the future, perhaps symbolizing both the reflection on the past year and the hope and promise of what the next year might bring.

Janus, god of beginnings and passages

The 1700s found Christianity adopting the practice of keeping night vigils of prayer and reflection, lasting all night into the morning on New Year’s Day – A practice that is still found in many communities, today.

We’re hardwired, it seems, to see beginnings of any kind – such as the start of a new calendar year – with mixtures of awe, hope, apprehension, and reflection. And, though now a secular tradition, we still strive to make promises to ourselves. Only about 8% of people keep their resolutions, apparently, but it’s striking that after all this time, we’re still making them, even if we know many will fall by the wayside.

The marked passage of time must affect us on a deep level, to spark the desire to make such promises.

This brings me to a poem by a favorite poet of mine, Billy Collins. In his brilliant way, he captures the universal with the mundane, and questions this new year’s day, and what it means to us all.

Is it a second birthday? Is it a day to dread, or to look forward to?

To me, it’s a time I know I can meditate on and re-dedicate myself to living wildly, blooming where I’m planted, showing gratitude and love to the Universe and to those around me, and keeping fresh and new the love I share with my husband.

What about you?

May you have the happiest of years, starting today. Happy New Year!

New Year’s Day by Billy Collins
Everyone has two birthdays
according to the English essayist Charles Lamb,
the day you were born and New Year’s Day—

a droll observation to mull over
as I wait for the tea water to boil in a kitchen
that is being transformed by the morning light
into one of those brilliant rooms of Matisse.

“No one ever regarded the First of January
with indifference,” writes Lamb,
for unlike Groundhog Day or the feast of the Annunciation,

New Year’s marks nothing but the pure passage of time,
I realized, as I lowered a tin diving bell
of tea leaves into a little ocean of roiling water.

I like to regard my own birthday
as the joyous anniversary of my existence,
probably because I was, and remain
to this day in late December, an only child.

And as an only child—
a tea-sipping, toast-nibbling only child
in a bright, colorful room—
I would welcome an extra birthday,
one more opportunity to stop what we are doing
for a moment and celebrate my presence here on earth.

And would it not also be a small consolation
to us all for having to face a death-day, too,
an X drawn through a number
in a square on some kitchen calendar of the future,

the day when each of us is thrown off the train of time
by a burly, heartless conductor
as it roars through the months and years,

party hats, candles, confetti, and horoscopes
billowing up in the turbulent storm of its wake.

from the book, “Ballistics,” © Random House 2008

3 – 2 – 1 … Entschuldigung!

I learned a new word a couple months ago.

Agnosiophobia

Heard of it? I hadn’t.

Agnosiophobia is the fear of not knowing.

To me, this means not knowing enough – not knowing the best way to proceed – not knowing how to do things correctly, so that you don’t look or sound or seem like a complete fool.

It might also be the reason I obsessively learned German before visiting Austria for the first time (a little bit different than learning Gaelic for fun before visiting Ireland, ha ha…). I just did not want to look foolish or be caught like a deer in headlights simply because I didn’t know what to do or what to say.

If you don’t know enough German, here’s a word that encapsulates what I’m talking about:

Entschuldigung (ent-shul-di-gung)

What does it mean?

Excuse me,” or “Sorry.”

Of course, I found I didn’t need to excuse myself as much as I had expected I would – partly because more people at least understand English than expected (though it’s best not to have the highest of expectations in this regard), and partly because, well, things are always so much easier than expected when you’re in the thick of it… and if they’re not easy, then you at least know that those excruciating bits have an ending point, and you always end up learning something to make your next experience less awful.

Like two nights ago when a cashier’s register broke down and she couldn’t see how much I owed her, and I didn’t know how to tell her the numbers, in German, to help her. So I went back to the apartment where we’re staying and memorized the patterns of German numbers… my husband caught me counting feverishly to one hundred under my breath before getting out of bed the next morning.

😅

… Did I mention the fear of not knowing?

Honestly, the fear of not knowing is the reason it took so long for me to finally write another blog entry, earlier today. I was afraid of not knowing how to start again. Afraid of not knowing what to write about. Surely I’d look foolish if I simply picked up where I left off, right?

But I’ve learned a few things since I last wrote here. Things that helped me shut that voice up – the one that tells me not to bother, since I’m so afraid.

Firstly, the following quote from Carrie Fisher comes to mind:

Be afraid. But “do it anyway.”

But… there is more to it, right? I mean, those of us who battle depression or anxiety know that it isn’t just as simple as “do it anyway.” And I know Carrie Fisher would probably agree, that this little soundbyte isn’t enough to jump start our minds when they’re frozen in fear.

Enter Mel Robbins:

Knowing what to do will never be enough.

It’s not as simple as “Just do it.” If it were that simple, we would all have everything we want. There’s something really foundational that has to happen before we can take action, and that is that we must learn to conquer our own feelings.

Wow. This really hits the nail on the head, right? Mel Robbins created the 5 Second Rule for this exact reason – pushing yourself to do something, with a simple action that can actually make it possible.

When you feel yourself hesitate before doing something that you know you should do, count 5-4-3-2-1-GO and move towards action.

There is a wealth of information about this rule, which you can find here, but suffice to say this really, truly works! It’s all about acting on the few seconds before an idea turns into inaction, and the physical actual countdown kicks your mind and body into gear!

Today, I left my journal behind before a 2 and a half hour train ride. I thought, “Well, now I can’t write. Sad face.” But then, I remembered my blog, and my fear of picking it back up… and that fear reminded me of Carrie Fisher’s words, and thanks to Mel Robbins, I knew what to do.

And I’ve applied it to my German-speaking experiences, too, here in Austria. I might not know what to say, or whether or not they speak English, but I just take a deep breath and…

5 – 4 – 3 – 2 – 1 – GO!

Where I Am: (Somewhere between Vienna and New Year’s)

I started this blog last year, around Thanksgiving, I believe, with the notion that Thanksgiving Day should truly be the day to start “New Year’s Resolutions,” starting from a spirit of gratitude and thanks.

One of my favorite voices, when it comes to giving and receiving gratitude, is Louise Hay:

“The Universe always gives us what we believe we deserve.

For quite a while now, I’ve been accepting every compliment and every present with: ‘I accept with joy and pleasure and gratitude.’ I’ve learned that the Universe loves this expression, and I constantly get the most wonderful presents!

Let’s affirm: I am a willing receiver of all the good the Universe wants to bring me.

Louise Hay

But, clearly, my Thanksgiving/New Year resolution of keeping a blog didn’t quite realize itself in 2018. Life happens, and one thing I’ve learned from yoga (and years of pushing through self-doubt and regret) is that you can only ever meet yourself where you are, and you shouldn’t spend time wallowing in regret, or the “should’ve-could’ve-would’ves.” So, here I am, a year later, with at least the uncanny ability to look back on the year, take stock, and push forward.

So… Why start again, now?

Honestly, it’s frightening. I’m actually terrified of writing a blog. Of writing, in general. Of doing things and following through, in general. Of… well, I’m sure you get the picture, and I’m sure I’m not alone.

But… today, I’m on a train. To Salzburg. Yes, that Salzburg. From Vienna (yes, that Vienna). Myself, my husband, and my sister are finishing off a whirlwind 2 week Holiday adventure that began in Ireland – our 4th annual trek to the Emerald Isle – and finished in the land of Schnapps and Wiener Schnitzel, the Sacher Torte, and Mozartkugeln (oh, that’s a real thing, and they’re delicious).

Schlöss Schönbrunn with Christmas Market

Vienna’s City Hall at Night, as viewed from the Rathausplatz

Today is our last day overseas before returning to New York tomorrow, so we opted for a day trip to the City of Mozart.

And, this morning, I almost brought my journal along… but then… I didn’t. “Oh, I won’t need this in Salzburg. We’ll be too busy sightseeing.”

Cue the 2 hour and 22 minute train ride.

Whoops.

But then I heard a voice in my head. I always hear them, but one spoke louder, this time, than the others. The One that says, “don’t think. Just do.”

Don’t Think. Just Do.

And I decided that I didn’t have to wait for the perfect, well-written, well-thought-out post to develop in my head before I wrote something here. I didn’t have to plan some sort of come-back post encapsulating the year, or even go back and add entries for moments this past year, retroactively dating them to make my blog appear “lived in.”

I can meet myself where I am.

And where I am is on a train, to Salzburg, itching to write.

A Wilder Vacation: Arrival!

I’ll admit, one of the primary reasons I began this blog, aside from having the chance to share my philosophy and menu surrounding our Wilder Thanksgiving, was to have the chance to store stories, memories, and photos from the Christmas Holiday vacation I knew we were going to be taking this December.

Where are we?

We’re in London!

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The Eye of London, from a bridge in St. James’ Park (Dec 17, 2017)

Myself, my husband, and my sister (who hasn’t ever been “across the pond”) are traveling in the UK and across Ireland, spending the actual Christmas weekend in a cottage on the Ring of Kerry (without Wi-Fi for three nights!!), and exploring the West coast of the Emerald Isle before returning on the 29th, before NYE in NYC.

We arrived in London yesterday, and it was a rough journey. We left Harlem three hours before our flight, planning to take an E train into Queens and arrive at JFK airport with two hours to spare. Due to a “sick passenger,” somewhere on the line, E trains were not going to Queens, so we decided to brave a taxi.

But… it was snowing in NYC.

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The haunting sky near Central Park during a snowstorm

Beautiful? Yes. But we should have known it would have hampered any vehicles ability to get anywhere in any decent amount of time.

Two and a half hours later, we arrive at the airport, fifteen minutes before our flight is supposed to leave. The attendants at the ticket counter assured us the crew hadn’t even arrived, yet, so we decided to brave security to get to our gate.

Lo and behold, we made it!

Aer Lingus was comfortable enough, and everyone was incredibly kind. I will say the plane we were flying on was a bit out-of-date. Before we even left the gate, we found that one of our seats was broken, and someone got stuck in the lavatory when the door malfunctioned!

And then our plane needed to wait two hours before leaving, to be de-iced…

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My favorite part of the flight – my sister on dramamine and a sleeping aid, whispering to me “My face is melting.” I took a sleeping pill, too, so I have no idea where we were when this photo was taken!

Needless to say, we arrived at Shannon Airport, in Ireland, two hours later than scheduled, but had given ourselves plenty of cushion time to continue our journey.

Taking a taxi from the airport to Limerick, we were headed for a train to get to Dublin, but our driver convinced us that a bus would actually be faster – there was an express bus straight to the Dublin airport. We arrived early enough in Limerick to enjoy our first full Irish breakfast and pick up a new friend to travel with us. He really enjoyed the views of King John’s Castle from the bus stop!

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Meet Seamus, the Sheep, enjoying a view of King John’s Castle, in Limerick!

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King John – yes, of “Prince John” of Robin Hood fame, and King during the writing of the Magna Carta, truly made his mark on Ireland – literally!

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For the uninitiated, a Full Irish Breakfast consists of fried eggs, rashers (bacon), bangers (sausage), roasted tomato, sautéed mushrooms, black & white pudding, potatoes, and baked beans. It is incredibly filling, and paired well with Irish breakfast tea!

And then we were on our way, to the last leg of our journey – the flight from Dublin Airport to London, UK!

 

Our stay is a wonderful AirBnB in Vauxhall, just a five minute walk from the Underground station, and the River Thames!

My goal is to split our trip up into several parts to post online, both to share and just to have a record of our experience. Sitting down and putting pen to paper, or typing letters onto the white screen – the blank canvas of my computer – with a cup of tea beside me… it’s the perfect way both to start a morning and to end the day. I look forward to writing more, and experiencing more in the moment.

(And of course, I plan on splitting up the days or experiences, just to make each post more reader friendly!)

For now, good night, good friends!

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Yes, the side table is an engine! I’m ready to write down everything we experience. Bring it on, London!

Walking in a Princeton Wonderland

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A tree in Central Park during the snowstorm (Dec 8th, 2017)

This past weekend, and right on the heels on my post about Autumn, much of New York City evolved into a truly wonderful Winter Wonderland. Snow flurries didn’t settle on the road, but everything they touched aside from the busy streets turned white, and it was difficult to see long distances (luckily the view below, across the Central Park Reservoir, is the only long distance view that probably exists in NYC).

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Central Park Reservoir, during a snowstorm (Dec 8, 2017)

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As you can see… a decent amount of snow! (Central Park, Dec 8, 2017)

That day, I was returned from an audition for Gilbert & Sullivan’s Yeomen of the Guard, with the Blue Hill Troupe, and had decided to take a walk through the park from the Upper East Side to the Upper West Side, instead of taking public transportation. Because… who would want to miss seeing all that snow in the park? Being able to just walk through a Park like that almost every day is one of the many things that makes life in NYC so special.

Staycation!

We’ve certainly taken advantage of what the city offers on a daily basis; parks, museums, historic sites and monuments, brunches and happy hours, skylines and greenways are all fantastic ways to vacation on a weekend or an afternoon and “get away” while staying where we are. Most people call this a “staycation,” and I’m actually surprised I haven’t used this word, yet, after having an entire blog post already (with more on the way) about my own “staycation” trips around the city! Exploring where you live is what “blooming where you’re planted” is all about!

When people talk about “staycations,” they’re usually spoken about in the context of hanging around one’s own city, taking the day to relax and vacation in one’s own neighborhood.

Merriam-Webster defines staycation in this way:

\ ˈstā-ˈkā-shən \ A vacation spent at home or nearby

But, also living in New York City, we realized there is ample opportunity for day trips to so many places nearby, outside of the city… and that a “staycation” in New York City could mean almost anything.

Like Princeton, New Jersey!

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Princeton University campus (Dec 10, 2017). No idea what building this is, but it’s beautiful!

On Sunday, a good friend of ours treated us to a trip to see a fantastic production of A Christmas Carol at the unparalleled McCarter Theatre Center in Princeton, NJ. The McCarter won a Tony Award for Outstanding Regional Theatre in 1994, and more recently was recognized as the original producer of the eventual Tony Award-winning play, Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike, by Christopher Durang.

A Winter Wonderland

Our trip began with a train ride from NYC’s Penn Station across the white fields of New Jersey (well, after getting past all the cities!), nearly an hour and a half in all. My husband kept nudging me, because transportation makes me sleepy!

2-course-sunday-brunch-menuAfter strolling through the campus and the college town’s quaint streets of shops, restaurants, and cafés, we had brunch at the elegant Peacock Inn. The meal was unparalleled, a prix fixe menu of two courses – completed of course, with complimentary pastries from the pastry chef, and the Bloody Marys we ordered. (What is brunch without at least one Bloody Mary?) I ordered some potato cakes with homemade applesauce and sour cream, while my companions both ordered a deconstructed gravlax! The second courses were equally delicious. Check out their menu!

 

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Who says non-selfie pictures are a thing of the past? Check out my giant scarf!                        (Photo courtesy of the valet guy!)

When asked for dessert in Princeton, I was taught to just say “No, I’m going to The Bent Spoon for ice cream.” I was told by our host that he said that to a server at a restaurant once, and the server replied, “Oh, that’s understandable.”

Sure enough, our brunch server said the same thing! And rightfully so, because their ice cream is quite epic. We visited the Bent Spoon not once but twice in the 9 hour span of time we were in Princeton. The first time, I had a sorbet they simply called “Autumn,” which was akin to a cranberry-apple cider, topped with a scoop of Mascarpone flavored ice cream. It was like eating a crustless pie!

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We posed in front of the store here, too. But you don’t need to see what my hair was doing in this picture…

Before we left, after I was absolutely stuffed from all the food we’d had over the course of the day, we got ice cream again. This time I went for the exotic Anise Seed flavored ice cream – not as potent and much more delicious than you might imagine – as well as another sorbet, a Cranberry Pear!

A Christmas Carol

The highlight of the trip, and the reason we were in Princeton in the first place, was to see McCarter’s production of A Christmas Carol. Suffice to say, there was no disappointment, whatsoever. Upon first entering the theatre and seeing the production’s “community ensemble” dressed in Dickensian garb – they led everyone in an older English carol before the show, and performed a hand bell choir in the entr’acte – I knew the production would be exciting and immersive!

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Had to document our experience in classic photo-op fashion! We then stood there for five minutes taking other people’s pictures…

Suffice it to say, this production has a lot of incredible people behind it, as well as on stage. David Thompson, who wrote the adaptation, is responsible for writing the new book for the 1996 revival of Chicago, as well as other works, such as Steel Pier, and the recent Prince of Broadway. Michael Friedman, of Bloody, Bloody Andrew Jackson fame, composed original music for the production, and the special effects were designed by Jeremy Chernik, who, among other things, will be bringing us the special effects for Frozen on Broadway, soon!

Following the production, we took a short walk down to visit (read: gawk at) Albert Einstein’s New Jersey home – notice that it is not a museum. I think they stress that quite well, don’t you?

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There are literally three signs that say “No Trespassing” before you even reach the front door. Think they’ve had a problem with people hoping this house is also a museum?

We satisfied our appetites with a visit to a favorite haunt of our friend’s, Winberie’s, before visiting the Bent Spoon yet again (seriously, it’s that good) and heading back to the train… where I promptly fell asleep.

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Winberie’s, per our friends tradition for after meal victuals!

All in all, a fantastic trip, with fantastic company – just extra proof that day trips from the city are within our grasp, and bring a myriad of experiences and surprises. I highly recommend each of the places into which we stumbled – and the beauty of the campus in winter is a wonderful sight! I can’t wait for future trips elsewhere (or back to Princeton!) and look forward to our annual vacation coming up for Christmas, this year!

 

 

 

 

Blooming in NYC: Inwood

As promised in my last post, I want to continue the “bloom where you’re planted” theme in my writing by sharing the various things I find in my city when I seek out all it has to offer. If you’re not from NYC, maybe you’ll get some tips on what to visit when you’re here (or at least let you know what else exists here, aside from Times Square and other various tourist hellscapes…) If you’re from NYC or the nearby area, maybe you’ve seen what I’m describing and can chime in, or haven’t visited it yet and might want to check it out!

After spending my “Black Friday” outdoors in nature, far from the maddening crowd, my husband and I decided to travel even further uptown Saturday morning – originally planning to visit Fort Tryon Park, after breakfast at Rue La Rue Cafe. Sadly, Rue la Rue is closed (hopefully temporarily), but we opted for something that ended up being a fantastic adventure: Inwood!

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Muscota Marsh in Inwood Hill Park. Henry Hudson Bridge crosses Spuyten Duyvil Creek.

For those that don’t know, Inwood is the upper most neighborhood uptown, on the island of Manhattan (Oddly enough, the Bronx-situated neighborhood of Marble Hill is still considered part of the Manhattan borough). Inwood is, essentially, everything north of Fort Tryon Park.

What’s so “In” about Inwood?

Home to incredible restaurants and bars, such as The Park ViewLa Marina, Darling Coffee, Tryon Public House, Guadalupe’s, a 233-year-old Farmhouse-turned-museum, and more, Inwood is also home to quite possibly the most untouched natural landscape that Manhattan has to offer.

According to the NYC parks website,

Evidence of its prehistoric roots exists as dramatic caves, valleys, and ridges left as the result of shifting glaciers. Evidence of its uninhabited state afterward remains as its forest and salt marsh (the last natural one in Manhattan), and evidence of its use by Native Americans in the 17th century continues to be discovered. Much has occurred on the land that now composes Inwood Hill Park since the arrival of European colonists in the 17th and 18th centuries, but luckily, most of the park was largely untouched by the wars and development that took place.

Inwood’s parks are the real deal. This is “old New York” at its oldest, and I’m excited to share a bit more about my interactions with Inwood Hill Park, as well as the morning I spent there this weekend.

Story Time!

Back in March of 2014, before we moved to NYC, we took a trip up here partly to scope out potential neighborhoods for our imminent move that fall, but partly for me to do research on a play I was directed in Oklahoma City, for a Native American Play Festival.

The play is titled Manahatta, written by Oklahoma-born, NYC-resident Choctaw playwright Mary Kathryn Nagle (it was being simultaneously workshopped at The Public Theater in NYC, and is now being performed at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival as part of its 2018 season). It tells parallel stories of the Lenni-Lenape people who originally lived in Manhattan (“Manahatta” is a Lenape word, meaning “island of many hills”) and were tricked into “selling” the land to the Dutch, and of a 20th century Native Delaware woman trying to reconcile her life in New York City, working on Wall Street, with the native roots of her ancestry, displaced to Oklahoma where her immediate family still lives. It was well received!

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OKC Theatre Company’s Manahatta starred Maya Torralba, Zack Morris, and Rachel Morgan. Artwork by Rachel Morgan.

I spent a lot of time in Inwood that March, discovering not only the “Indian Caves” where the Lenape people would camp while they spent their summers fishing in the nearby bodies of water (and are still in use today as shelter for the displaced), but the “Shorakkopoch Rock,” where, according to some legends, the actual transaction between the Dutch and the Native tribes took place.

The “Indian Caves” of Inwood Hill Park

Inwood - Shorakkopoch RockShorakkopoch Rock, where some say the infamous “sale” of Manahatta/Manhattan took place.

My husband and I host a walk from Inwood to Battery Park every fourth of July, in part to honor the history of the island, its original inhabitants, and its sordid relationship with the past and founding of our country. We have always begun our walk at this rock, even if it might not be the actual site of this legendary transaction.

Fast Forward to This Weekend…

In my last post, I had mentioned the “North Woods” of Central Park as a place that can very often be a true escape from the sights and the sounds of the city… but nowhere on the island of Manhattan is there a greater escape than Inwood Hill Park, where you’re not only escaping sights and sounds of the city, but much of the past millenium. The park is where you’ll even find Manhattan’s last surviving salt-water marsh (apparently there were once quite a few on the island), revitalized thanks to Columbia University, which has a boat house just next door.

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Muscota Marsh today.

Our day on Saturday began here, near this very salt water marsh, having a weekend brunch at the Indian Road Cafe, which we had first discovered this past summer during the Drums Along the Hudson, a Native American and Multicultural Festival.

Indian Road Cafe describes itself as “a restaurant in constant motion,” changing menus seasonally, and providing local artists and musicians the chance to display (or perform) some of their work on a weekly basis. Their menu also features local goods – they try to source as close to home as possible,

using a large group of Hudson Valley farms and producers. We also have relationships with purveyors on the Arthur Avenue (some call it the real Little Italy) in the Bronx, and source a great deal of fresh pasta, cheese, and meats a short ride away on the 12 bus. (from their website)

Saturday brunch included bottomless mimosas (I’ve said before that moderation is key, so only attend bottomless brunches in moderation), fresh fruit – as locally sourced as possible – and eggs from nearby Feather Ridge Farms. Oh, and some delicious French Toast. All in all, it was a wonderful meal in a wonderful place.

Outside the restaurant, there was even a “leave a book, take a book” stand. They clearly knew all the right buttons to push to provide us with the best start to a Saturday morning stay-cation experience in NYC.

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Of course, being that far north in Inwood, we couldn’t help but take advantage that afternoon and walk across the Broadway Bridge to the Marble Hill Target… but that’s a boring story that doesn’t need to be told here (except that I lost my great-uncle’s vintage sweater while I was there, alas!)

All in all, another wonderful chance to bloom here in NYC!

Have you been to Inwood Hill Park? Or, what’s your favorite part of Inwood?

If you’re not from these here parts, definitely consider visiting there when you do – and let me know, and I’ll tag along! And let me know where else I should visit that you might know, in your own city or state!

 

Bloom Where You’re Planted

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I can tell you exactly where I was, and what I was doing when someone first told me to “bloom where you’re planted.” I was 23 years old, and sitting on some concrete steps leading down into the Myriad Botanical Gardens of Oklahoma City – I went to college and grad school in Oklahoma, before we moved to NYC.

I was on the phone with a guy I was interested in – the man who would be my first gay relationship after coming out – and he was talking to me as he walked home from a piano lesson in the small town in which he grew up, telling me what he saw and with whom he met, on the way. While he talked, I watched a small bird – most likely a wren – jump around on the steps in front of me. I lamented to him that my life in Oklahoma City couldn’t possibly be as interesting as his was, in his small town.

“I don’t believe that,” he said. “No sense being down about it. You are where you are, so make the most of it. I’m sure there are plenty of wonderful or interesting things happening. Bloom where you’re planted!”

I’d never heard this phrase before – but hearing it was one of the first of many events that would completely change my life and my outlook on the world around me.

What does it mean to bloom where you’re planted?

While the actual origin of the phrase is shrouded in mystery (rather, it’s just not clear where it truly came from), most people seem to understand it to be a figurative phrase. We’re not literally planting people (ever see that horror classic Motel Hell? They planted people. This is not advisable.)

We’re “planted,” metaphorically speaking, where we live – where we’re stationed, where our job is, or even where we are physically or mentally. If we’re to bloom where we’re planted, we have to dig deep with our roots, find what there is to find wherever we are, and use it to bring us into our best selves.

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A lotus blooms at the Bethesda Fountain in Central Park

The lotus is a brilliant representation of this metaphor, because it literally germinates and grows in the mud into one of the most beautiful and highly symbolic flowers in the world! We can bloom wherever we’re planted… even if it’s in the mud!

How I bloom where I’m planted:

My husband and I love to have miniature “stay-cations” in the city on days we have off together. We live in New York City, for crying out loud! There’s always so much to see and do, even without money!

This past weekend was Thanksgiving Day weekend, including Black Friday. Instead of bowing to the gods of consumerism (or taking advantage of amazing deals – however you want to look at it), we decided to take a walk.

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The North Woods, at Central Park

Beginning at our home in Harlem, we walked to Central Park, grabbing coffee from a favorite local coffee shop along the way. The North Woods are one of only a handful of fully forested areas in Central Park. In the summer, when the leaves are fully on the trees, all of the sights of the city are blocked out, and even most of the sound! The rustling of the wind through the crisp autumn leaves was an invigorating break from the rest of the world, fighting over its television sets, Macbooks, and designer clothing (no offense, of course, if that was you). The escape of the park, especially the North Woods, is an adventure each and every time we visit, a bloom of its own on the stalk of our life in the city!

So, we walked over 100 blocks on Black Friday. Not as many as we walk on July 4th, when we walk the length of the island (an odd but oddly fulfilling tradition of ours), but it was a wonderful escape. We found ourselves walking across the West Side and up Riverside Park on the way home, chatting about our life in the city and the direction we’re hoping for it to go. Really digging in to what roots us, and trying to find the ways in which we can blossom to our fullest.

Blooming where you’re planted means finding ways in which you can dig in and grow to your fullest potential, and it means… get out and explore!!!!!!!

Did you know Riverside Church, located at Riverside Drive and W. 122nd, boasts the tallest U.S. church structure (392 feet), and holds the world’s largest turned bell (20 tons)?

20171124_135402Did you know that Grant’s Tomb, the final resting place of Ulysses S. Grant, located next to Riverside Church, is the largest mausoleum in North America?

How do you bloom where you’re planted? What have you explored lately, or what exciting things have you discovered in your own backyard? I’d love to hear about your own adventures!