Embodied living
"In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer." - Camus
Outside the warehouse studio, the snowstorm is brewing, the streets quickly capped in powdery white. Inside, sheltered by the fogging windows and exposed brick walls, I am typing away, munching on a pastry from Butler and warmed by the vinyl recording of Benny Goodman’s 1938 Carnegie Hall concert. A quick glance around the well lit living room reveals a wall collection of jazz, classical and rock records, assorted aerial and potted plants, vintage prints and the blaring neon sign ‘Manifest Destiny?’ The ‘?’ is a playful touch, giving the viewer a light provocation to consider: does the phrase carry too much historical weight of the negative kind, for it to be still be thrown around as art deco in urban apartments? I digress.
A few weeks ago, I visited my childhood friend from Seattle in her new home in Raleigh, NC. Seeing her fully embrace the values and culture of the South inspired me to explore more immediately a life that embodies the ideals I espouse. Embodied living: to manifest the intangible (values) into physical reality (habits, community, friendships). An attempt at forming an answer led me to New York.
Upon landing in JFK in 20F weather, I immediately braced myself for a frosty welcome. Instead, New York quickly reminded me of the reasons why I came here. The first: solidarity and community among strangers. On my first night stroll in West Village, accompanied by string favorites, I quickly sped up my pace to join the collective tempo set by my fellow city walkers carrying their grocery bags, coffee or dog lease in hand, sometimes all three. It was freezing cold, but all seemed unfazed. In fact, the outdoor pavilions of mom and pop restaurants remained packed, with tables of earnest diners under glaring heat lamps chatting away, again, unfazed. That alone gave me enough courage to continue venturing onward to Van Leeuwen, where I got a scoop of chocolate fudge brownie around 9pm. Let me remind you that it was 20F outside.
The second reason: reverence for artistic expression and culture. The last times I visited The Met, The MoMa, and the Guggenheim, I was shoulder to shoulder with art enthusiasts, getting quick peeks at the great works. This time, the art museums were almost a private encounter, an intimate conversation between the artists and myself. They were effusive in their delivery and I was rapt, keen to absorb. In The Met’s Impressionism gallery, I craned my neck less than two feet away from the canvases of Cezanne, Picasso, Degas, Van Gogh. I could almost imagine the deliberateness behind the brushstrokes, the feelings emoting from their choices of colors. At the MoMa, I sat alone in Monet’s Water Lilies exhibit for half an hour. In the center of the colossal metropolitan that is New York City, in a corner gallery of the MoMa, there was a call for respite in front of his dreamy pastels. At the Guggenheim, a few visitors and I walked in staggered formation, in complete silence, up the round white spiral steps while pondering the questions posed: How do we reimagine the ‘countryside’ as more of the world’s population moves towards urban centers, which are increasingly designed as connected smart cities? One insight spoke directly to me in my state: how do we seek solitude and individual identity in the city, where so much of who we are is in relation to others in the hierarchy of different societal structures?
Just a few blocks away, the expansive trails of Central Park, now covered in half a feet of melting snow, welcomed me to unravel my thoughts. Having grown up in the Pacific Northwest, I feel most at home and at peace near nature. Here, nature takes on an urban form. American elms, their branches bare, framed the meadows that lay in front of towering skyscrapers. The sun is blaring down from above, the air is crisp, and near me, an old couple were nonchalantly trekking their cross country skis through the snow. It is this dichotomy between the elements of nature and city that make city parks so astounding.
Later, at Fort Tryon Park, a few people and I spotted a lone barred owl sitting on a tree near the entrance of the trails. It looked so serene and rested on its branch, it made me question whether we were the ones out of place. It is precisely the juxtaposition of urban and nature that makes us appreciate both more. Having spent time in remote cabins on ski trips and camping excursions, I came to realize that extended solitude in nature makes one yearn for a human face. Yet, spend too much time in a cityscape and one gets the unbearable urge to escape to the countryside again. This push and pull of where our souls thrive best is what makes modern life quite challenging to grapple with. Where, oh where, does one exist as one’s best?
It’s a personal question of course; everyone will find themselves on a spectrum here. In my attempt at finding inspiration for embodied living in New York, I acknowledge the third reason this city continues to mesmerize me: time operates on a different plane here! Despite being more creatively engaged and productive here than in most places, I cannot seem to grip the hours of the day as so is easily the case in the suburbs or other major cities. My exploration has hardly begun and it is already the tail end of the journey. It is why I often return again and again here. Most environments serve as a rich backdrop for an individual life; New York serves as an omnipresent muse.