NYC at the (almost) 9 month mark…

As most of my friends know, I moved to NYC July of last year soon after finishing up my yoga teacher training at Kripalu. I’ve been debating posting on my blog since then; I’ve just assumed that if people were interested in my experience here that they would call/e-mail/facebook message me at some point. However, I’ve realized that most people are unaware that I have moved!
Furthermore, the longer I am here, the more I realize that the experiences come and go and I’d love to archive them somewhere. Plus, I remember how anxious I was about the move and how sharing my experiences may give others courage to go after something scary for them and expand their life experience.
On my mind currently is the desire to express what it is like to be new to this city. I previously lived in Boston as a student and free-lance teacher/musician for almost ten years, where I never realized how much I grew to become a part of the city; colleges everywhere, college students everywhere, cold winters that don’t end, the wind!, Red Sox, cherry blossoms in May, a sense that the people around me were automatically more intelligent since Harvard was a skip away. Also, since it is a college town, the rhythm of the city is defined: in the summer, it is deserted; end of August, people trickle in; August 31st and September 1st are the two days of the year it is best to hide since everyone and his or her mother has to move those days; October has the best foliage and weather; December is the last month before the frigid cold sets in; January through May is the time to hope for no snow since it means shoveling; and June it is suddenly warm.
The rhythm of NYC is undefinable. All I know is that I’m thankful no more piercingly cold raindrops, sideways rain, and maybe it is my imagination, but the sun seems a little closer. People here move like it’s going out of style; it is common for people to move every year and they do every month. Why? New yorkers are always looking for the next best thing. Apartments are hard to find, that is, livable ones, and looking for a place to live was probably the most difficult part of my experience. The standards for what is livable are pretty ridiculous, and this is coming from someone who spent many years living in apartments in Boston that were meant for college students. Let’s just say at one point I considered living in a room without a window!
A general rule of thumb is that life here is unpredictable and changes those who live and visit it. The day of my masters degree recital I found a dead roach at my close, belly up and stiff. I sat on my bed for the following two hours crying about it because I couldn’t find anyone who could throw it away and I didn’t and couldn’t touch it. That was several years ago. This past halloween, my roommates and I were trapped because of the hurricane/tropical storm and had no where to go with the trains down. I have a habit of leaving half full/empty cups around the apartment so that if I am thirsty I can easily find one. Having been at home for several days straight, I had many around the apartment, including one on the kitchen table. I drank from it, and felt something in my mouth. I learned that day that roaches like moisture. The old me would have hauled ass out of the city, but the new york me survived and learned from it. What I love about NYC is that the rewards of living here force those who live here to be flexible and change.
So now I’ll share some of my favorite or memorable experiences thus far:
1. Meeting people on the subway. Having a cello with me makes me a target for conversation, but in general, people here, when they are not in a hurry, are friendlier because they are curious, and, in a city as expensive as new york, one can’t afford to not network. When I keep my mouth shut, I am amazed at how quickly people are willing to share their vulnerabilities with me and tell me all about their lives. The other day, I spoke with a jazz musician in his sixties who had been dating a woman who doesn’t have her visa for over seven years with no intention of settling down or breaking up. When I asked him what he’d do if he met someone who wanted to marry, he said he’d break up with her then!
2. Inspiring creation all around me. In New York, even the street performers at least catch one’s attention immediately. From the break dancers performing back handsprings on the moving A train to the violinist/hula hooper in the station, there are constantly people hoping to be noticed and creative enough to find ways. My definition of jazz, music, performance, and what it is to be an artist is evolving thanks to performances I’ve been a part of and been lucky to experience. I never improvised or sang before I moved here; now I’ve done both, at the same time, and with dancers. I’m currently performing with piano trio as part of a theater/movement piece that blurs the line between dance/yoga/acting. Joan Evans has found a way to choreograph a piece that directs actors to use dance, movement, and acting to change energies in the theater in a way that inspires the audience to understand the piece on a visceral level. I didn’t know that this could exist. I don’t love Brahms the way most classical musicians do, but David Finckel’s performance of the Brahms e minor at a chamber music society concert almost brought me to tears.
3. Community. If there is one thing I took from my experience at Kripalu this summer, it is that the meaning of my life is based in what feeds me spiritually. I’ve realized that expressing me in a way that people around me can understand and understanding the expressions of those around me moment to moment is what is most valuable. The friction that is created by a city full of some of the most ambitious, talented, and courageous people I’ve ever met makes for a sense of community I’ve rarely felt since walking down the aisle of yoga teachers at graduation. As rude and lonely as it can be here, I’ve never felt at any point that I was completely disconnected. It’s impossible! Open the window a crack and there is the city: honking, sirens, dominican school children playing, breaking beer bottles, and lights for miles.
When I talk to my family or friends, they are constantly worried about my safety, am I eating?, and imagine me friendless and alone. It is a pretty dramatic and bleak picture. The reality is that day-to-day life here is beyond exhausting and also beyond boring other days. Going to the grocery store can feel like an expedition; who knew that going to Trader Joe’s means a 50% chance of waiting in line outdoors? But I think that secretly they are jealous because they know deep down that the joy I feel from the adventures I have are beyond what they can imagine, and it is.