Winter Doldrums

Here we are in the thick of winter with the expanse of an entire year behind us and the expanse of an entire year ahead. All of those unknown relationships yet to be formed, decisions yet to be made... Those loose ends yet to be tied, the projects, the mistakes, and the successes all loom like one large question mark, which can either seem comforting, or if you're more of my persuasion, unsettling.

I've been doing a lot of yoga, reading a lot of Eckhart Tolle; I've been one of those well-meaning cliches, trying to reach into the depths of my untapped spiritual reserve to find some solace in a very loud--literally, right now, someone is drumming on a pipe, on the roof, right over my head. Jeezisss... Anyway, I find it difficult to hear myself and most times I can blame it on the constant flow of traffic below my window, the sound of neighbors waking up the floor below me, or sensitive car alarms--but sometimes I think I do it; The other day I was listening to this great album, running around the apartment (half-dressed, as one does) 'doing' things and 5 minutes later I turned it off. It felt too noisy. I went to see "It's Complicated" last night, came home and thought, in an effort to unwind further, I would read. I opened to the first page and Meryl's voice was narrating for me.

I'm going to attempt to prescribe my own remedy:

I recently went out with a friend who was writing a verbal love letter to Vermont. I was taken in completely. These days I feel like jumping into a pristine snowdrift, in the middle of a pasture somewhere with no sound but the wind, getting drunk on maple syrup and snow-shoeing. Things are loud in the city, and at times, totally intrusive. It's a wonder people relax enough to create art, fall in love, and have babies in Brooklyn.

I just want to feel still enough inside to know what I want...so if anyone has a zip car, I'd like to go to Vermont for 3 days to figure it out.

Discoveries... It's difficult to look for them when you're busy. So, this week it's felt like there have been relatively few, which I know can't be true. To all of those discoveries overlooked, my apologies. Here are the three that stuck:

I appreciate graphic novels. I recently read David Smalls' "Stitches" and was completely moved. Do read it if you get the chance.

Also in the theme of books, St. Marks Place often yields cardboard boxes full of trash, but the other night one cardboard box yielded lots of vintage hardcover books. I took one. I would always get so embarrassed when my dad would stop at the side of the road and 'acquire' a new treasure. I suppose the apple never falls far from the tree. Edna Ferber's "Giant" is part of my permanent collection.

NPR's Tiny Desk Concerts. Incredible.

Here's to a new week :-)