st. nicholas ave / mlk blvd
2.15 miles
a man asked why i was taking photos of buildings, of streets, of the everyday. why not the park, the sights?
the sights of today: a man with a matching emerald green mask and tie, walking by a bar with a shade of the same bright color, also a bowling hat and a suit— just imagine it; fog, the sky was white with not a hint of blue; leaves changing colors, leaves fallen to the ground; groups of men sitting on street corners, good evening, ladies; warm lights over outdoor restaurants seating; a woman cooking inside a restaurant (seasoned vegan), breading veggies in the middle of the dining room, humming and swaying to a song i could not hear; manhattanville, vast and stark, brightly lit, out of place; people who were not wearing masks, a lot of them, i am anxious these days for myself and for this city; the most fluffiest dog; my dear friend with her aquamarine hair.
this week was spent in the lab: pipetting, washing dishes, making buffers, growing bacteria, thinking and hoping. i am exhausted, and i am grateful— for a place to go each day that gives my day purpose, that gets my body moving. not to be trite, but working in the lab is much like walking. i must concentrate on my experiments, yes, but there is also much time for my mind to wander, to wonder, to think about a strand of DNA and what i need to get done tomorrow and where i will be a year from now and where this world will be.
i have become used to being alone. seeing more people this week (from a distance) has been uplifting, but i am also drained. i have forgotten how to be sociable. my anxiety creeps higher each day, or rather, it ping pongs and zig zags and catapults up and down as i judge others, fear others, make my own mistakes. i think i have covid every day. i am distinctly aware of risk everywhere around me, and then a moment later, the fear has dissipated.
today i meditate on these words from jesus, moments away from the cross:
And going a little farther, he fell on the ground and prayed that, if it were possible, the hour might pass from him. And he said, Abba, Father all things are possible for you. Remove this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will. Mark 14:35-36
yet not what I will, but what you will.
i often think i am in control. i think that if i can just work hard enough, be kind enough, read enough— i will become god of my own universe. today i rest in knowing that i am not in control.
p.s. can you guess where the detour was to?
p.p.s. mlk blvd = 125th st but diagonal… it’s a weird one
a poem for today:
POWER
Living in the earth-deposits of our history
Today a backhoe divulged out of a crumbling flank of earth
one bottle amber perfect a hundred-year-old
cure for fever or melancholy a tonic
for living on this earth in the winters of this climate
Today I was reading about Marie Curie:
she must have known she suffered from radiation sickness
her body bombarded for years by the element
she had purified
It seems she denied to the end
the source of the cataracts on her eyes
the cracked and suppurating skin of her finger-ends
till she could no longer hold a test-tube or a pencil
She died a famous woman denying
her wounds
denying
her wounds came from the same source as her power
by Adrienne Rich