I’m having one of those “if there was one thing I learned…” -moments, which having lived in New York for almost half a year now, I can legitimately expound with real talk. Since I moved, I’ve been walking the fine line between feeling like a local and feeling like I’m on a 6-month-long vacation. All the good meals and drink and company are prism reflections of the latter. And then real life happens. Suddenly I’m the permanent resident my initial one-way ticket out here has forced me to become, an experience that not even the full-proof package of NYC-experts I call “my friends,” could have prepared me for. Because, things happen. Shit happens. Life happens. Kryptonite happens. And when you’re a regular person, making a pretty average amount of money, and not anointed by some divine being to conceive powers of x-ray vision and a front-of-the-line-pass at the Opening Ceremony sample sale, you’re subjected to the ebb and flow of simply, being, well…regular. But that doesn’t mean you can’t be great. For example, I know I’m great–but I’ve also accepted that I’m a reg human being with flaws and pain as well as positive attributes and joy. I’m starting to shut out the piano teacher within. So what if I’d rather play “chops” than Stravinsky’s Le Sacre du Printemps? It’s nice to relinquish the pressure I often place on myself and accept that I’m doing a phenomenal job just living and breathing.
(and here it comes) If there is one thing I learned from extracting myself from familiarity and unconditional love and the most bomb Chinese food to be found in the US, is not to be afraid of the misfortunes and shit-out-of-luck moments. Because one can trip in her Jack Purcells just as easily as she would in her Lanvin platforms. And it’s not really how you fall, what you’re wearing when you eat cement, or who sees you do it…it’s how you pick yourself up afterward–dusting your shoulders off or kind of scurrying away red-faced. In Yogi terms, falling is like getting into a “downward dog.” It can be a little painful, but it can also be a good time to rest and collect your thoughts before the next maddeningly strenuous bind begins.
(By the way my analogies are going, it’s clear I’m a little obsessed with shoes and yoga right now. This is true.)