one more day

Williamsburg. Billsburg. Tip-toeing on the edge of Brooklyn, the motherfuckin’ cooler stepchild of Manhattan. I never thought I’d move out of Manahttan. But here I am, saddled with a less paying job of my own choosing, with roommates in a sort-of barrio, 5 minutes across the river and a thousand miles away from my previous year/life/thoughts/self. I’m living in hipster central, in the nexus of a Manhattan-derived inferiority complex, trying to show those braggarts how cooler life is here. Low rising tenements and shops and pubs and boutiques-cafes-grocerystores run by immigrants jostle for position among sad forlorn sidewalks splashed by bits of graffiti (gorgeous renditions, actually, from jumbled and disturbed geniuses). The streets are cracked and places to frequent are frequently spaced apart. But there’s a wine shop around the corner and a take-out Chinese place with $4 hot dinners.

I talk to people less now. Probably because my cell phone does not work – my place is located awesomely just underneath ground on the first floor so that it’s out of reach for Verizon (great service!) networks. But even so, I talk less to people now, divided by the invisible wall that is the Williamsburg Bridge. I enjoy this new freedom. Unencumbered by social obligations and the distractions of city lights and city life I can hear my thoughts again. It’s like my brain has been released from the vise of trying-things, of schedules crammed with eating out and drinking out and lazy nothings.

And the first thing I noticed was that my thoughts were starved for ways to express themselves. Words, for so long, have been escaping from my mind. In the city, talking had elbowed thinking out of the way. Talking with clients about work --- the meaningless chatter of sales, talking with friends about the same shit and concerns... my dialogue was a game of round-robin… round and round of repeated concerns and regurgitated plans and recycled dreams. Any newness, any creativity was suffocated by my lack of words. Talking simplified thoughts. It relies on habitual use of words/phrases/slang. Shortcuts are made because a steady stream of sounds is needed in good conversations. My want to recognize dharma in my life: to experience the lush thrill of joyous thanksgiving and wonder and excitement/expectations for things to come and the things that are here and now --- seeping into my pores at this very moment; to revel in the simplicity of my life, of waking each day and feeling samsara course through my body, to love and be loved and feel that it’s enough, that breathing is enough, that eating a bowl of cereal in my PJs is enough, that making music, making stories, and making art is enough… those thoughts were crushed underneath the weight of my talking too much. Those thoughts were marginalized and expressed as “I want something more.” Something more? Of course I wanted something more!

But now, across from the concrete jungle of the “greatest city in the world”, perspective comes back. My brain has time to reflect, to react, to question and to want again. The coffeehouses aren’t that far apart. And there are great cheap ethnic restaurants. And people here say “Hi” one another. They smile! And they’re working on movie scripts and digital art projects and new additions to photography galleries. It’s a poorer life for sure, but so far, it’s a truer life. It’s a meager life -- it’s a fuller life.