Th(e)rough Looking Glass

This is one reason to not walk barefoot in New York City

What are you looking for?  How do you know if you’ve found it?

When I was 18 I was looking for excitement, movement, people.  I found it here in NYC, that’s for sure.  But sometimes the desire for the things you are looking for fades after you find them, and new desires take their place.  Or maybe you realize that you don’t want what you thought you wanted.  For me, I’ve had my fill.  Now I need and desire new and different things.  I know I am not what I once wanted.  Finding ourselves is often a process of elimination.

This is healthy as long as it leads us to realize the ever-changing self, but it can be destructive when combined with contempt or scorn.  It seems from the time we are adolescents we search for our identity, for what defines us.  We adopt sports teams, music genres and political affiliations.  Perhaps this is the beginning of the loss of childhood, where a human being responds to people and things immediately, without an identity interfering.  Is defining ourselves a means of relating to others or an obstacle?  It is true that through excluding something or someone we often connect with others.  How often do we talk about what we hate vs. what we love?  So we often use rejection as a mechanism for connection, how ironic.

Everything we desire is a skin we put on until we realize we are more than skin, at which point we shed our desires for as long as we can tolerate skinlessness.

I used to really love New York City.  Every time I went home–even for Christmas–I wanted nothing more than to return here, to what I deemed the center of the world, the only place that challenged me.  About a year ago something suddenly changed: I realized, panic-stricken, I had to leave.  I realized that what is really important to me is the only thing missing from New York City.  Pad Thai delivered to my door at 3 a.m. be damned; I need trees!

At the time I had no savings.  Leaving would require a long-term plan.  That plan has spent a year in the oven and now it’s about ready.  Again, I haven’t left yet, but it’s all I can think about.  I am in limbo, just waiting for my train out.  Until that time, I am skinless.

  1. #1 by fred white on June 23, 2010 - 4:09 pm

    ms.kitts…you think very deeply. 🙂 I feel what you are saying as i just turned over a year in South America. When I came here I had all these ideas, and insights, and it was simply fresh to be in S.A. and still traveling. i felt no limits, which became a limit unto itself, because what i had not done is defined any kind of goal. in fact that has not changed much, and for some reason seems less important than figuring out what to have for breakfast, and how im going to paint a mural with string, clothespins, and bent metal rod a pencil. theres a magic in living my life now, and feeling the sensation of each moment when possible. the future seems intangible and impossible to see unless im here. im not against having a plan, but without one life still reveals magic and wonder and possibility everyday. i can be happy, i am happy its not required that i have it all figured out, and just because i may not, doesn’t mean it wont work itself out anyway. i think how you are going about your life is an inspiration…btw if i left Buenos Aires right now, probably what I’d miss is akin to you pad tai, the pizza sauce at Bachero’s, and Ice Cream delivered to your door at 2:30 am.

    • #2 by andromedakitts on July 28, 2010 - 1:28 pm

      Love you, Fred! Still have that hoodie and I’m going to have it mailed to me when the weather gets chilly. 🙂

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