14th st / 12th st
5.23 miles
today was a good walk. what does that mean? each time i set out, there is a transition period from checking off my list of todos each day, zooming through each color-coded rectangle on my google calendar. there is a shift where my brain stops pinging around to each task i must complete before the day is over, and instead i take in the city (the people) around me.
schoolwork and stress are beginning to bubble up, rising and settling into my shoulders and wrists and jaw. i am inclined to keep working and can become afraid that time is slipping away from me. but i went on a walk. and i remembered why i am walking— to get outside of myself, outside of my little life and little todos, to remember that life is not a series of boxes to check off or calls to schedule or degrees to achieve.
i did not listen to music or any sort of words as i walked today. eye contact is somehow stronger, longer, when there is nothing in yours or the other person’s ears. i took in more, i listened to more, i thought deeply and i did not worry. i suppose that a good walk is that— to be utterly present.
as i trekked along today, i understood why some people might hate this city, or wonder why so many flock here each year. many of the streets, most of them, are grimy and ugly, covered by scaffolding, construction clamoring in your ear. new york is not a pretty city. why do nine million people live here?
these are the sights of today’s walk: a youngish woman in a white bikini top on the subway, singing loudly, ‘why you gotta be so ruuudee? don’t you know i’m human tooo?’; a blind man alone on a crowded sidewalk, with confident strides; a sign, ‘us veteran 2 tours anything helps god bless’; a mailwoman with closely cropped sky blue hair and iridescent green sunglasses; a family climbing into a mini van; a couple on a corner, embracing, kissing, while wearing masks; a little boy with the cutest chocolate curls eating the largest kale caesar salad i have ever seen.
moreover, a large stretch of street vendors on the east side of 114th, selling purses and shoes and masks, but also stuffed animals and jewelry and cans of beans. i am curious as to whether one vendor’s single red sharpie will ever sell.
on a detour to washington square park, i also witnessed what i believe was a justice ride by street riders nyc, a protest of bicycles, a meditation, a movement. i mourn this week with my black sisters, i mourn with the lgbtq communities that dwell in even greater fear than usual. the protests become smaller and the instagram posts die down, but when does change happen? can change happen? how do i make the change?
today, to the few people that read these words, listen to my friend grace victoria’s music and read kyra dawkins’s debut novel. are words enough to inspire action? action is necessary.
to end today’s ramblings.. i stepped into alabaster bookshop today and bought a book, because why not? the man who rung me up seemed sad as he wrote down the charge on a piece of paper. on the opposite end of the block is the strand (which i love). but i wonder how much longer alabaster bookshop will be there.
