Moving, Again

Everything is going into it's rightful box. I have fifteen boxes of belongings, which contain everything in the world that I own: books, clothes, music things, medical things. There are a couple of items I own and have had for a long time that I will leave here, like pieces of furniture: bed, bookshelves, tv, music bench.

Taking chances is interesting, at least. You put a whole lot of effort into something, and things may go your way or not. We are not to know in the time of decision making what 'will be.' Everything may go smoothly, and your courage might be rewarded by the universe - you can enjoy the fruits of your hard work. On the other hand, sometimes things won't be as hoped. Your courage might lead you into a darker side of the unknown, a place you weren't planning on going, but a real possibility when doing something new.

I've always been excited about taking chances and facing the unknown. Now I see I've always been excited about the better possibilities, but very naive of the more brutal ones. I never thought anything too bad would be an outcome for me, a hopeful romantic who sees the good wherever I go. But here I've taken a chance that started with a lot of hope and led to a lot of loss and a really hard life.

So now I look into myself and, funny thing is, my hope is still there. It's just transferring it's excitement to another day, another time, another place. This didn't work out, but something else will and it will be good. I don't hope for anything too impossible, mainly that I can stop moving my belongings from place to place. I want a home pretty badly, and to be comfortable again. Hard to feel that in New York.

The thing that I have really liked here besides the trash on the streets are a few people I've talked to who are also uncomfortable. There is something very honest about admitting that. It's opposite from the attitude of pride in living in NYC. It is a city that can be glamorized and held on a pedestal, which can give some people a boost of pride and self esteem for just living here. I haven't been able to relate with anyone who feels too comfortable here. With the extreme spectrum of experience in your face all the time, you encounter it all. You will see or be involved in miracles here, and you will also see/be involved in the most brutal, inhumane situations possible. Being frequently overwhelmed with these extremes provides no stability. This is the true nature of our existence though. I don't mean to deny it's truth. I simply have a hard time believing anyone here with their eyes open can be completely comfortable with the truth.

But that is another thing about living in NYC: shutting down your emotions to protect yourself, to avoid confrontation, or maybe because you are too tired. Adapting to living here and being happy here may necessarily involve shutting your eyes, turning your head.

I don't know. I might have just come here too exhausted to accept the demands of this city. Maybe I'll come back in a different state and be able to see it in a new way. But for now, I leave in the morning.

So Good-bye, New York. It's been real. I hope you and your people can find some peace, which is maybe the only thing I caught no sight of in your colorful web.

But cheers and a million thanks for some of the greatest things I've ever found, that I've found in you. These two have made you worth every painful step: