That was a singularly strange experience in its platitude.
I am on East Coast until July 11th, visiting my more conservative jewish parents, who are actually doing a commendable job coming to terms with my more mystical existence.
It's near 1AM, and my mother and I are sitting on the embroidered and practical couch in the living room of this beautiful colonial house in mid-massachusetts, and we are watching Cruel Intentions. Here's the strange thing; there have been at least two other times where we've sat on this couch and watched Cruel Intentions.
Now, I do practice some repetition. Every morning, I wake up and go through a series of more or less similar postures and meditations (that I swear is different every day, but may appear reiterative to the outside glance). More meals than not, I'll throw some celery and spirulina in a blender. I repetitively dip my hand in the chocolate jar, or the honey jar, and I still have a nasty habit of checking my cell phone.
But I think I've named the majority of my habits. This winter, I lived in a house for 6 months- the longest I maintained a residence since 2009. Since 2009, I've 'lived' in 13 locations. These days, it's an odd coincidence if I wake up in the same place twice, and that place isn't around a campfire with CC White saying, "Darling, we are all scared your hair is going to light on fire!".
Watching this movie was so strange. At one point, I got up to go to the bathroom, and my own life seemed foreign to me. I could not believe that I was headed back to California to teach Gong Flow Yoga and travel the festival circuit. It's real enough when I've got a bunch of singing bowls around someone's head and I'm handing them some lavender, but when I'm in a suburban house in mid-massachusetts, to say my life seems odd is nothing.
Especially when I'm flash-backed to my 15 year old self, or my 18 year old self. Cruel Intention's images of New York in particular are striking... they must have made quite an impression on my mind to manifest to reality, because I've been there, in love, not on the upper east side but on the upper west, in a similar egoic reality.
My mother asked me if I wanted to go back to being 19 and going to NYU*, and....I can't say there was no truth to that- there's certainly the shadow of reminiscence, but honestly, no, not reality. The greatest excitement I felt in New York pales in comparison to the joy I am capable of feeling now. I think I took in only about 29% when I lived there (statistic falsified). I have no idea what percentage of experience I take in now, if there is such a thing (metaphor is technically flawed), but I can bet you its higher. I remember my first tastes of ecstasy in my heart center; now I feel it with my whole being. I feel much more alive, more awake, in a way more innocent than I did at 17.
For the most part ; )
I think, sitting there and watching this movie, I missed my current life more than I missed my New York one. The thing with New York, is that it will still be there, in some form. I have friends in New York that appear to struggle with the same conflict, inhabit the same worlds. Perhaps it so appears to my outside perspective, in fact, probably, but the change of my being happens now in lands unknown. And I am lucky enough to live in a world with continuance, to be near to or aware of the beloved brothers and sisters I shared New York with.
I feel more intensity of experience, novelty and growth with each passing year, and I have no urge to return to a previous time. I intend to continue that pattern. I have always looked forward to my life at 50 and if trend takes it course, I'm sure it will be pretty epic.
But sitting there, past midnight, watching the same movie: inexplicably odd.
*she is shocked I left cosmopolitan new york to live in 'provincial' Venice
I am on East Coast until July 11th, visiting my more conservative jewish parents, who are actually doing a commendable job coming to terms with my more mystical existence.
It's near 1AM, and my mother and I are sitting on the embroidered and practical couch in the living room of this beautiful colonial house in mid-massachusetts, and we are watching Cruel Intentions. Here's the strange thing; there have been at least two other times where we've sat on this couch and watched Cruel Intentions.
Now, I do practice some repetition. Every morning, I wake up and go through a series of more or less similar postures and meditations (that I swear is different every day, but may appear reiterative to the outside glance). More meals than not, I'll throw some celery and spirulina in a blender. I repetitively dip my hand in the chocolate jar, or the honey jar, and I still have a nasty habit of checking my cell phone.
But I think I've named the majority of my habits. This winter, I lived in a house for 6 months- the longest I maintained a residence since 2009. Since 2009, I've 'lived' in 13 locations. These days, it's an odd coincidence if I wake up in the same place twice, and that place isn't around a campfire with CC White saying, "Darling, we are all scared your hair is going to light on fire!".
Watching this movie was so strange. At one point, I got up to go to the bathroom, and my own life seemed foreign to me. I could not believe that I was headed back to California to teach Gong Flow Yoga and travel the festival circuit. It's real enough when I've got a bunch of singing bowls around someone's head and I'm handing them some lavender, but when I'm in a suburban house in mid-massachusetts, to say my life seems odd is nothing.
Especially when I'm flash-backed to my 15 year old self, or my 18 year old self. Cruel Intention's images of New York in particular are striking... they must have made quite an impression on my mind to manifest to reality, because I've been there, in love, not on the upper east side but on the upper west, in a similar egoic reality.
My mother asked me if I wanted to go back to being 19 and going to NYU*, and....I can't say there was no truth to that- there's certainly the shadow of reminiscence, but honestly, no, not reality. The greatest excitement I felt in New York pales in comparison to the joy I am capable of feeling now. I think I took in only about 29% when I lived there (statistic falsified). I have no idea what percentage of experience I take in now, if there is such a thing (metaphor is technically flawed), but I can bet you its higher. I remember my first tastes of ecstasy in my heart center; now I feel it with my whole being. I feel much more alive, more awake, in a way more innocent than I did at 17.
For the most part ; )
I think, sitting there and watching this movie, I missed my current life more than I missed my New York one. The thing with New York, is that it will still be there, in some form. I have friends in New York that appear to struggle with the same conflict, inhabit the same worlds. Perhaps it so appears to my outside perspective, in fact, probably, but the change of my being happens now in lands unknown. And I am lucky enough to live in a world with continuance, to be near to or aware of the beloved brothers and sisters I shared New York with.
I feel more intensity of experience, novelty and growth with each passing year, and I have no urge to return to a previous time. I intend to continue that pattern. I have always looked forward to my life at 50 and if trend takes it course, I'm sure it will be pretty epic.
But sitting there, past midnight, watching the same movie: inexplicably odd.
*she is shocked I left cosmopolitan new york to live in 'provincial' Venice
