new york reflections
on impatience, trees, and love
Let’s start with the end—a quick haiku vignette from my flight back to San Francisco, when the person sitting next to me watched one of my favorite films that always touches a tender part of me:
accidental viewership
i notice past lives
on the middle seat screen, and
my chest starts to cave
-
i can’t let myself
feel everything. not while i’m
flying with strangers
-
shit, the tears started
i’m stifling my sniffling, so
neighbors don’t notice
-
i can’t even hear
the dialogue and still i
remember and weep
-
this is so painful
hard to imagine that this
isn’t forever
back to the start
It’s been on my to-do list to visit New York since 2021, but I finally caved when the show my friend Jeanette had been dancing in, Illinoise, was picked up on Broadway as a strictly limited engagement. It would be my one opportunity to watch her perform, and I had so many people I wanted to see (and meet!) anyway. It felt like a perfect catalyst.
In spite of the excitement, I felt nervous, as I do not travel alone. Perhaps you may not think this was really a solo trip, since I had friends on the other side, but I still count it. My wariness stemmed from a few core things:
I’ve historically had discomfort being alone, or more specifically, with being lonely
I’d have to make some first / last impressions, and that felt like a lot of pressure
Having PTSD leaves me on edge, and I worry for my safety in unfamiliar places and/or at night
Also due to my PTSD, I do not take the subway anymore, but alas, the metro is ubiquitous in NYC, and thus largely unavoidable
But… I went. I faced these things. And not only did I make it out unscathed (excluding blisters, shin splints, and thoughts to process), but I also had a really wonderful time overall. I crammed so much into those 72 hours that it would take a novel to recount it all, but I do have a few reflections that are bubbling up, in no particular order:
new york smells like tokyo
At least, that’s what I thought the moment I stepped outside the sliding glass doors at JFK. The humid air was tinged with scent of motor oil, though it smelled a little less like cigarettes than Tokyo. And while that may not sound like a particularly pleasant combination, it’s one I find comforting. It felt like a homecoming, and put me oddly at ease. It granted a sense of familiarity to somewhere new.
being alone is fine, actually
I surprised myself by how quickly I settled into a sense of independence. I wandered Greenpoint. I navigated the subway without getting on the wrong line. I listened to my gut and journaled instead of socializing. I sat under the shade of a tree by myself for an hour. I went to a bar by myself and did nothing but journal, write haiku, and read Japanese Death Poems.
And I didn’t feel lonely, not even once.
the impatience is palpable
This is perhaps what I abhorred (too strong?) most about New York, and also what I had predicted I would not like about it. When previously asked if I thought I’d like New York, I’ve said, “I’m too high strung already, I do not need to be in a place that heightens that energy.” This is an outdated sentiment I’ve recycled since I was a teenager. I’ve since mellowed out a lot, but I do think that the general laid-back atmosphere of the west coast helps foster that.
I could feel the subconscious creep of absorbing that impatient energy. I started walking faster, taking up more space, bobbing and weaving without hesitation. I kept a straight face (very “fuck with me, you won’t”), and I did not bother with eye contact.
And then I’d realize I was doing this and feel sorrow. I got swept away into embodying that energy, leading me to rush getting from point A to point B with efficiency, while not really noticing my surroundings. Along with the sorrow came pity for the people I now watched rushing by. When do these people ever actually live? When do they take their time feeling the sun on their skin, smelling the food stalls they’re passing? Noticing the details in the environment around them that could bring whimsy?
It felt so antithetical to my way of existing lately. I think whenever I return, I’d like to make a point of maintaining my sense of patience, of intentional slowness, instead of shapeshifting to fit the environment.
i didn’t have a panic attack on the subway
This one is such a big deal to me. It might be my single biggest win.
I have been assaulted twice on the subway in San Fransisco, and I’ve avoided taking BART in the 5 years since. These experiences, compounded with the PTSD I was already diagnosed with, made for an awful combination. The few times I attempted riding again led to hyperventilating, tears, shaking. I resigned myself to never take BART again.
Knowing I’d have to take the NYC subway, of which I’d heard mostly stories of chaos and danger, was terrifying to me.
So it was an absolute blessing to have my friends Sarah and Daniel with me for the first time, in daylight. I had not expressed to them beforehand just how scared I was, and I am glad I didn’t. They did not coddle me or treat me with gloves. They just casually explained how I could just use my normal credit card to pay, that you have to be careful to go down the entrance on the correct side of the street so you get on the right line. We got on, we kept up our conversation about whatever it was we were already talking about, and we got off like it was no big deal. And in a way, it wasn’t. But to the younger me, it was.
Friday night, we took the subway together at night. And I was okay.
Saturday afternoon, I took the subway alone in the daylight. And I was okay.
Saturday night, I took the subway alone at night. And I was okay.
I am really proud of myself for this. This feels like a step toward healing, toward overcoming the chokehold that my PTSD has had on me all of these years. I’m hoping I can integrate this experience and try taking BART again. And maybe I’ll be okay.
dance is transcendent
Having grown up dancing, I already knew this, but it is wonderful having the reminder. As I mentioned above, I flew to New York to watch my dear friend Jeanette dance in Illinoise.
It was fucking magnificent. I laughed, I cried, I did both at the same time. I was enraptured by it all. The sheer caliber of technical skill on that stage was overwhelming, but my god, the heart. You could feel the heart of all of the performers. And what a way to bring Sufjan Stevens’ music to life.
I am seriously considering flying back again later this summer to watch it again, so I can burn this show into my mind while I still can. If you’re in New York, please please please go watch this, then let me know what you thought. Or better yet, come with me, so we can experience it together.
queerness felt more comfortable
Maybe it was the traveling alone, maybe it was the company, maybe it was just the energy of New York, but I felt more comfortable in my bi identity (bidentity?) there. The queer flirting was very real, and it felt so different than straight flirting.
trees make me happy
The trees were big! And plentiful! And different from the ones in California!
When I started feeling anxious, I’d just look at a tree breathe, and it would help. I picked up a gingko leaf and carried it around with me, gently stroking the delicate veins between my thumb and index finger. I sat under the shade of a huge tree in Central Park, and it held me as I wept. It provided shelter for pretty birds. Just wonderful.
i loved seeing my loved ones
And I felt like I had a bigger sense of community there than I had anticipated. My social interactions were all filled with love and care. And it was so wonderful to feel that love in so many different ways. It looked like:
a 10-minute speed round of “here’s what’s been happening in my life ahhhh”
having a bodega sandwich at 3am and talking about free will
hugging for very first time, after having been friends only virtually for the last 4 years
holding each others’ shoulders, tears streaming down our faces, gushing about how much it means to see each other after our 3 years apart
sitting side by side in Central Park, letting the conversation take the time it needs, staring at each other knowingly when we knew words wouldn’t be enough
Today I had texted my friends
and about something related to this. I had the privilege to cross paths with Blake and Kate back in 2021, and we joined forces as the creative team behind The Naiad, an animated short film that we are letting take the time it needs.In meeting them, even virtually, it was clear they were such special people, and we had what felt like a magical connection. So imagine my delight to feel that magic in real life too. I hugged them so deeply. I held their faces in my hands, pet their hair.
Earlier today I wrote to them: “I think what strikes me the most was just how natural it felt to exist in your presence, to be tender and goofy and all of the things, despite that only being our first time sharing the same air.”
It is comforting to know for the future that I have a number of people in New York who leave me feeling seen, known, cared for, and loved.
i get the appeal of living there
It made me laugh that almost every person I spent time with asked me, “So when are you gonna move here?” And even after returning to San Francisco, people have asked me the same. And I get why they’re asking it.
New York seems to me like a place with something for everyone. Unlike San Francisco, everything is more readily connected with public transit, and being flat means it’s far more walkable. It was refreshing spending time with people committed to their craft for the sake of it, rather than in the name of hustle culture. All the neighborhoods felt distinct, each with a different vibe depending on what you were into. The food never let me down. I loved the parks.
So while I don’t think it likely that I’ll uproot myself anytime soon, I understand why people have said, “Oh my god Marié, you’re gonna love New York. Please don’t leave us and move there.” I see the allure.
and lastly, a thank you
To Sarah, a friend I’ve known for two decades, who opened her home to me and gave me a safe place to land. Who served as my secure base of attachment in New York while I went off and explored alone, while I navigated big feelings. As I said in the card I left for you, I don’t think words can adequately convey my gratitude, so the best I can do is say thank you, and I love you.
