arrived in montreal yesterday. love it. it’s new york meets paris on a smaller scale. when i fist arrived it was rainy and i was pooped and feeling a bit lost in translation. but i napped, went out and bought a cute jacket and got my mojo back. last night we went to a henna party for the bride and groom. bride is my dear pal alona. the darling groom is a london-hailing bloke she was introduced to by friends. he comes from a family of iraqi jews … the henna party is part of that tradition. there was a bellydancer gyrating all over the place as horny old men oogled her. it was funny. before we headed to the shindig ali and i were trying to explain to alec what henna is and not doing the best job. here’s a henna tattoo that’s totes rad. i’ve been thinking of having one done at New York Adorned. perhaps i shall when i get back. anyways, that’s the update from o canada! more soon …
the lyics from “jazz” by a tribe called quest have have been reverberating in my brain. particularly the line: “So raise up squire, address your attire / We have no time to wallow in the mire”
such a song. and this post “35 Quick ways to find yourself again” is totes rad.
and this poem, too, which is taped up on the wall in my apartment:
by W.S. Merwin
Even when I forget you
I go on looking for you
I believe I would know you
I keep remembering you
sometimes long ago but then
other times I am sure you
were here for a moment before
and the air is still alive
around where you were and I
think then I can recognize
you who are always the same
who pretend to be time but
you are not time and who speak
in the words but you are not
what they say you who are not
lost when I do not find you
“May those who love us, love us; and those who don’t love us, may God turn their hearts; and if He doesn’t turn their hearts, may he turn their ankles so we’ll know them by their limping.” -Irish Blessing
Today was a day filled with blessings.
- Early this morning, Rufus was doing his pre-urination ritual when a beautiful, tall, dread-locked Afro-Carribean man unloading a truck called out to us, “Something on that tree smells pretty good!” I replied. We smiled, shared a laugh. He was so handsome. It made me happy.
- My boss and co-workers have been so loving and caring. Last week, over a dozen people showed up to the wake to pay respects (my boss arranged a bus, and a few others came on their own). So many colleagues have sent personal, heartfelt notes. And today, two different men stopped by to make shiva calls. We had fairly intimate, spiritual/emotional discussions. I so appreciate being in a place where humanity comes first and there’s a genuine sense of family.
- There was the most amazing blues band in the subway station at 53rd street near MOMA after work. Subway musicians often make me grateful to have my iPod with me, but not these guys. It was a singer, with just a couple of teeth, and a guitarist. He played Motown and Blues standards. One that really stood out was “Unchained Melody” (yes, that song from “Ghost”). Dang, did it sound good. I tossed them some dough and a giant smile. Who says people won’t pay for quality content?
- Notes of care and concern from all kinds of places keep coming in. Someone had told me that people have a way of revealing themselves in times like these … I now understand what she meant. We all have different ways of coping and of caring for others. It is interesting to learn what people you may not know that well are made of emotionally. What they give, how much or how little. Today I received the best sympathy card ever. EVER. A dear friend from high school and college took a sympathy card and tacked on a personal message and hilarious collection of old pictures to show that “memories are forever.” It was creative, funny, thoughtful and compassionate and serious all at the same time.
- Dinner with a beloved pal. I used to be pretty comfortable being alone, but right now I need to be around friends and people who know me. The first 2 nights back in the apartment were fairly sleepless and rough, partly because I went from work to Yoga to home without being “seen” by anyone. But today ended on a lovely note after breaking bread with Phyll and catching up on the life of the living. Mindful of this I am loading up my dancecard with as many social plans as possible. I tend to breathe and advance with the help of others … not in isolation. Don’t we all?
Back in the city, back to work, back in my crappy little apartment. Subways and cabs. Walks with Rufus. Interesting people on the street. Leaves on a tree on Bleecker street turning brown and falling already. How can I be back to this now? This whole revolution has occurred yet, here I am again. When does that mighty wind sweep through and change it all?
It doesn’t. We are our own heroes. We change ourselves. Or don’t, and suffer. And probably cause others some pain in the process.
Yoga’s good, tho. Helps me put it all aside. The swirling thoughts and worries. Yoga people are so weird, self included. I love the wackiness of it all. I don’t like fake city Yoga places, however. Where they are chanting words they don’t even know the meaning of. And people get competitive over mat space. Namaste … or nasty, bitches? Passive aggression is a factor. Of course, lots of chicks do Yoga merely for aesthetic benefits, which is counter to the true spirit of the practice. Tara called it “Skinny girls stretching,” which I thought was a great descriptor of what often seems to go on in certain studios. Regardless, in the proper setting, Yoga works for me.
I am okay. Tired, kinda freaked … definitely lonely but okay. Because he was sick so long and I had an intimate view of the ongoing decline, I have been grieving and preparing for this quite some time. I also had plenty of time to hang, mourn, cocoon and heal with my fam.
I am back in the city now, back in my apartment, tomorrow I’ll be back to work. It is surreal, a bit daunting, even though I know I am going to be fine and sometime soon things will improve. They will even be somewhat spectacularly better. Don’t know how I know that, but I do.
Yet, I feel anxious. To combat that I am focusing on the near term. Tomorrow, Rufus and I will resume our West Village morning strolls. I’ll go to work, where I’ll throw myself back into the mix and laugh once again with my buds. Then at night, back to my Yoga class here in the city. This weekend, I’ll head to Montreal for a dear friend’s wedding. A happy adventure and a welcome change of pace.
“the beat goes on” by the whispers. my dad loved this song.
my uncle john, aunt peg, and cousins ter and carmen were going through old pictures the night of the funeral and came across this one of my dad in the outer banks, way back when.