Today was possibly one of the most intense days I've had here in New York. I'm just getting over a cold, I didn't get adequate sleep last night, and I had to teach three classes today plus prep for three classes tomorrow, in all, lugging around materials for six classes in three different bags weighing in total around 60lbs (because of the times of my classes tomorrow I can't go into the center in the morning to pick up my materials, so I have to take them home the day before). To make things more difficult, I was only given an hour between my second class and third class of the day, the first two being in Park Slope, the third in the middle of Bed Stuy (30-60 min. commute). Oh, and I didn't have a lunch. Crazy. I know. So I'm living this day, going through the motions of this insane schedule and the whole time I'm thinking to myself that I should have said something to the scheduling department at work - it wasn't right for them to schedule me with only an hour in between those two classes - no, wait, it wasn't right for them to schedule me for three classes, all in the middle of the day (so I can't have a lunch) and then schedule me again for three classes the following day. But, I looked at the schedule last week. I knew what I was taking on and I didn't say anything. I figured I could do it. But there I was, living that day and wishing I hadn't been so ambitious - so eager to take on such a challenge. I was starving, exhausted, sweaty, pissed off (at myself and at my work), hating everything about New York - the traffic, the walking, the waiting, the people, the students, the cold air. At every subway and bus station, just as I was arriving, the train or bus was just leaving - honestly, at every single one - and I had to take one train and two buses to get from the school in Park Slope to the center (I walked) and then to my house (to drop off the materials for tomorrow) and then to the school in Bed Stuy. Oh, and the students at that school in Bed Stuy - so rowdy - 6th through 8th graders that are throwing things at each other, fighting, yelling, cursing, and difficult to manage. They don't listen, they don't do what I ask them to and when they do it's so mediocre. They just don't care. It was the worst way to end one of the worst days I've had here.
I got home and felt completely defeated. I said to myself, I hate New York. It's not for me. I want out. I want to cry. It's so hard here. Life is so hard here and it doesn't need to be. Why do people live in this place where life is so difficult. I felt like I finally understood why people out here are so impudent and brazenly self centered - and I didn't want to have anything to do with it anymore. I wanted out.
Of course, what I want isn't always what I'm going to do. I think part of me is a little bit masochistic because when things get tough, and I mean really tough to where I want to break down and cry and run away from it all - I force myself to endure. Perhaps it's because I've learned over time that, usually, when you do stick it out it makes you stronger, the experience is much more rewarding and you achieve a greater understanding of life.
Don't get me wrong. I've had some really great times since I've been here in New York. I've met some amazing people who have definitely enriched my life and inspired me, moved me with their presence. But in the end you're not always with those people and living those "high life" moments at some VIP celeb packed party on the roof top of the Gramercy Park Hotel. The majority of my life is spent waiting in musty subway stations, walking broken sidewalks inhaling exhaust, cleaning up after other people (though not so much anymore) - or just dealing with other people - millions of them - every day, alone. It really is a tough life out here. Unless you're disgustingly wealthy, life New York City isn't easy. It's really quite monstrous.
But I'm out here. My lease isn't up until August. There are a few people in my life here who perhaps make it all worthwhile to stick it out.
My roommate comes home and I confess my sentiments. She listens (I love that about her) and tells me what the masochist within tells me - stick it out. I've only been here for four months - all of which have been in the winter. It's too soon to make a rash judgment, to write off NYC and kick this city life goodbye.
I know. I know. But still, I can't help feeling hopeless, defeated, and sick of it all.
I left the house and headed for thy gym. Hot Yoga. 7:30PM. I biked in the cool air. Breathed it in deep. Let the chill feel good over my warming body as I pedaled quickly to make it in time. The female instructor was one I had never had before. She had a germanic accent, shorter thin hair that sort of spiked off her head a bit, adding a fire to her sinewy frame. We worked on focusing our energy and mind on the four points in each of our feet and hands - the extremities of the body and the poses.
We began with three chants of Om. Breathe in the sun. Oooooooooooooooommmmmmmmmmmm. Feel the vibration within. Breathe in the sun deeper. Feel the vibration deep within. Exhale everything we've been carrying. Let it go. Out with the breath. Breathe in the Sun. Oooooooooooooommmmmmm.
Every pose we engaged out hands and feet. Toes off the floor and spread wide, feet squared, palms flat, finger tips "like claws" with fingers spread wide. I could feel each pose stretch deeper, stronger. One of the challenges in Yoga is to keep all the muscles engaged throughout the poses. Focusing on keeping the feet and hands poised and square on four points and pushing out while pushing out with the breath really helped me get deep into the poses, getting a deeper stretch and releasing deep tensions throughout my body and mind. I've never had a stronger full bridge pose. She even advised focusing the feet in this 4-point "push" while riding the bike. "It'll fix any problems with the knees."
One of the best yoga classes I've ever had. Afterwards I felt amazing. Not a 180 from my mood before - more like I achieved a harmony, leveled things out. I could think clearly about things again. My mood wasn't clouded by all the negativity. It was all released. Gone. We finished with three more Om chants, remembering the sunshine - now manifested within.
I stepped out into the cool night feeling great. Rejuvenated. Calm. Engaged.
While biking home I thought about how I was feeling before. I realized that I had turned New York into a monster. All the hard and horrible things amassed into one behemoth that was beating me down. Yet, I created this behemoth. I chose to see it this way, to let it defeat me, perhaps because it's easier to play the victim, to give up or believe that there is no chance for a positive and beautiful life here in this city - because that could take a lot of time and effort with unknown returns. So why not write it all off as a hopeless endeavor and go back to the calm, the beautiful, the natural west. basically it was all a fabrication so I could give up. I made it into a monster I had no chance against, one that would defeat me. And it did.
Like the phoenix, I rise from my ashes into a new life. Deep down I know my roots were born in western soil and that is where they will return - but they can certainly be nurtured, stretched and strengthened on this shifting sojourn in the city that never sleeps.
Spring is here. Rejoice.
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