Metromorphosis

I've been thinking a lot recently about my first year of college in New York City after generally blocking it from my mind. Not that I didn't enjoy it, but in terms of my comfort zone it was certainly a giant leap away from what I was used to. I found that I never had time to sit and just think- about what I wanted to get out of where I was and what place I wanted to be at with myself, both creatively and mindfully. However, I found myself living entirely in the present.

And I think that's a byproduct of living in New York City. I admit, it's not something that I wanted to happen to myself- I love taking time (like this) to remind myself of way I like to create and why I like to think. But getting swept up in the city and living every breath of life with a sense of urgency and rapture is like experiencing art itself. What I felt was a sense of detachment of mind from body, an almost instinctual need to keep up with everything happening around me.

I wrote in my in journal a little more than a week after I came back from college: "I've spent the last few months with my soul slightly lopsided in my body with some parts spilling out. I have lived so entirely in the present that there was almost no awareness of anything beyond what was immediately ahead". Still speaking in terms of metaphors, I honestly found myself a little blurred around the edges towards the end. Who had I become? In retrospect, I think I could be summarized as a high-strung try-hard with permanent dark eye circles who was often very pushy and raised her voice in excitement at inappropriate times.

However, I've reconciled a bit with the idea of a "New York City me". Those who know me understand that I can't help my love for art and waxing poetic about frankly ridiculous things, but I suppose that the entire ordeal is a bit like experiencing a masterpiece in itself. The ability to create such a mindset and inspire such feelings in people...it makes me want to drop my chin in my hands and say "Oh, New York". Does this make me sound like a delusional, masochistic, misguided, and strung along lover? Probably. But I've come to the conclusion that it's important to stay mindful. It's easy to get lost in a whirlwind romance with New York, but I know that I will need reminders to step back and let myself breathe. To take breaks and maybe even spend some time not thinking about anything at all. Or, god forbid, let myself walk like a normal human instead of a power walking my way through the streets one day. After all, to observe and experience a work of art one must discover it slowly.

I once saw an aerial photograph of Manhattan hung at a museum exhibit. It was a long exposure shot taken around dusk, expansive and demanding against the plain wall. As I looked at it, what struck me the most about the image were the streets bathed in the red, orange, yellow aftermath of car lights. Like veins and blood vessels that wrap between dark, commanding buildings, the colors made Manhattan appear to be a pulsing live body connected by the veins of light. New York City is considerably like a human being- a selfish creature craving your presence and attention, demanding you to contribute something among the millions of faceless people.

And I have to admit, I cannot wait to reunite.

(If you want to look at the image I describe, click here.)