Embracing NYC through a cold February

Maybe it’s just me, but it feels like this winter has been a tough one. Certainly a long one. Some sun would be nice, you know?

But as

Michael K

reminds us in this short and sweet essay thriving in life is all about being able to embrace where you are, to grow where you are planted and to make the most of things. Beauty is everywhere, even (or perhaps especially) in these cold winter streets.

Enjoy.

TJB.

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For the first time in a long time, I dream of leaving New York City. This has everything to do with the gray dead of February, my coldest winter since leaving Chicago, and bulky sweaters indoors, bulky coats outdoors.

Toddlers also do not appreciate hierarchy. Even if I say we are not going outside, she will bring shoes and jackets for both of us to trek outside for more adventures.

“Can’t do it.” I tell her.

“You think I care, old man,” she asks, throwing a pair of shoes at me and shoving a coat in my face.

And we go. We regret it, and yet we still go. We walk through the low winter sun and piercing wind for the potential of a steamed milk and croissant, a desolate playground, and a quick route home to a cozy bedroom.

Later, as she sleeps, the sun pierces through my front windows, only to shed light on how the life that I have curated for myself stops me from achieving what I want.

My mind drifts to the what ifs away from a cold, mid winter malaise. What if I was instead in a bright Buenos Aires February, the flora and fauna perfuming my balcony as I sip espresso and smoke cigarillos, impeccably dressed as I write and admire my family?

Or perhaps it is a beach villa in Jamaica, watching my daughter play in the sand while I write in comfortable linen?

Or maybe it’s a well-worn leather journal, tobacco and coffee stained, accepting my reflections on a centuries old plaza around beautiful buildings and an impressive amount of pigeons?

Somewhere perhaps with less hustle and bustle than New York, somewhere slower to focus on what really matters, which is her, and my spouse and us. If I were somewhere like that instead of here, I could really be who I want, do what I want.

All lies.

Most of my life I’ve been surrounded by cornfields. During my time on the road, I recall studying and working in hotels in places called Athens, Illinois or Peru, Indiana. Surrounded by cornfields yet again, I would close my curtains and try to imagine a more interesting place on the outside. What mattered was getting things done, it did not matter where I was. Even after visiting more exotic places, I recalled Emerson’s reflection that we drag our own ruins to other ruins, and we don’t leave our troubles behind. In the same vein, self actualization wouldn’t materialize if I happened to be working in Paris or Tokyo or New York doing the same things I was doing in the cornfields of Paris, Illinois.

Same feeling, different place. There are no cornfields in Brooklyn, as far as I know. My small dream of leaving the New York winter and the life I’ve created for a sunny Buenos Aires balcony or Spanish plaza remains just that, a dream. What I can do, is curate my own space and life to make the dream feel like it is here. Wish for a good arrangement here as opposed to dream of a mystical setup somewhere else.

This all makes me think of Hong Kong.

At a British rugby bar in Wan Chai, my friend’s coworker mentioned it takes a special person to be so far from home and thrive. “Good to see you growing where you are planted,” he said.

That comment has stuck with me, especially as I am tempted to grow somewhere else altogether, as if that would lead to a freedom from cultivating what is needed right here and now. A change of scenery would not be free from life’s disturbances, and honestly it is my toddler’s whimsical demands that makes the routine all the more charming. I try to remind myself that even if I don’t want to go outside only because my toddler wants a croissant, I know I will miss these days. A lot. There may be days where we cannot get croissants, or perhaps she won’t be so thrilled to eat one with me.

It may not feel like thriving, but thriving looks more like embracing where we are, growing where we are, as opposed to dreaming of a life removed from what we are realistically building. The truth is that cherishing what is and who is can warm up even the most frigid February city.

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