New York. I love this city. It’s a treat to experience the sights: street performers, skyscrapers, and the multitudes of unique faces; the smells: roasting nuts from the street vendor, cheap detergent at my laundromat, pine scented candles wafting through my church; the opportunities: live jazz in Greenwich Village, modern art at the MOMA in midtown, and hookah in Queens. I genuinely love it here, and it feels like home.
But sometimes, I need a break.
Sometimes, I need to hear birds, and see sky, and experience the natural. Or is the supernatural? After all, nature was created by God. However it should be defined, I recognize my need for fresh air, leaves crackling under my feet, small town courtesies, and mountain views. Sometimes, I need to be reminded that life is worth living if only for the sites of regal mountains rising; rivers rushing; green grass growing; and lakes shimmering.
The reminder of life’s simple joys was brought to me when I trained a couple of hours to Cold Spring, NY yesterday. I was able to abandon, if only for a few hours, the complex stressors that exist in a fast-paced, perfectionistic city. Gone was the constriction of an imminent existential crisis that seems to squeeze at random times during my day.
I escaped, and I experienced a heavenly forgetfulness for the day. I think it’s okay to do that sometimes.