On Display

The young man stood alone at the center of the stage.  Around his neck, hanging to the middle of his stomach was a mandolin.  One single light shone upon him.  He had a gentle look about him and a well kept not fully established beard.  Soon the silence was broken with a chords and a request from the musician.  

In addition to his lyrics, at a certain point in the song, the audience was asked to sing one line, 'We shall find a way'.  With a slight move of his chin and a pointing of his instrument towards the full capacity crowd, the audience responded in a subtle, yet beautiful, 'We shall find a way.'

I wasn't too sure what to think or what to expect.  My girlfriend and I arrived at the loft on Jay Street in Brooklyn a half hour early to the performance we were supposed to see.  In the meantime, as patrons, we were allowed to enter the theatre to see the other performances.  We walked in just before a movement piece began.  There were three people in this piece - their bodies contorting and flowing ever so gracefully with the fluid music.  I made a point of studying each of their faces at least once during their performance. 

In my near 32 years of life, I have seen numerous ballets, concerts, plays - contrary to what some may believe about me - I am very passionate about the arts.  I was a student of ballet for 12 years and while I wasn't particularly fond of it as I got older (due to classes conflicting with my tennis lessons and other sports I was playing), I have resurrected my love for it - if only slightly.

It was not just their arms moving with the constant ebb and flow of the melody; it was that their faces were filled with countless expressions.  They looked at peace - they were fulfilled.  Yes, the direction of the music changed, the mood of each character changed.  But as I watched each person, I knew they were creating.  They let their feet guide them across the floor.

It was freedom.  It was bliss.  

I watched them with steady yet eager eyes.  Here these people were - strangers to me and no doubt most of the audience and they were showcasing their passion, their love - to us, for us.  I was stirred.  Not shaken.  It was as if someone took a cocktail straw and rattled my ice a bit.

And then came Mandolin man.

He had a sweet, almost innocent smile as he stood on the stage alone.  But he did not appear to be afraid; for he was in his element, he was more than likely fulfilling his first or maybe tenth dream.  His dream to play on a stage in New York City.  It may not be exactly where he wants to be, but for right now, at this moment in a loft in Brooklyn at 10 Jay Street - this is a part of his path.

We shall find a way....

I kept my eyes on him and his expression.  Mandolin man was strumming the chords and his melodic voice filled the room.  And then, we were asked to join with that simple chin and mandolin point.

The simple lyric was repeated and with each time we lightly sung the 5 words, I felt tears in the corners of my eyes gathering and they were soon to fall.  

I took the liberty of changing our lyric for my own purpose; my own mindset.

I shall find a way... (over and over again I quietly sang).  The tears were getting heavier and yet when the salty wetness tumbled down my rosy cheeks - I could feel my body grow lighter, yet heavier.  

I would be lying to you if I told you I was purely and deeply happy.  Are any of us?  

Don't get me wrong, I am happy.  I have a lot to be happy about; but I have always felt a disconnect; that missing puzzle piece hiding behind the couch you struggle to find.  Sometimes it has led to anger - anger dispensed on the wrong people - my parents, my sister.  As time has trickled on since this anger within me was discovered, I realize that perhaps the person I am most angry at, is myself.

Be gentle to yourself.  I can hear my pastor from the Presbyterian Church of Basking Ridge, say to us from the pulpit.  If he only knew my struggle to put these words into action.  For as long as I can remember, I have always been my harshest critic.  Aren’t we all?  I can hear my friends repeating to me over the years – to simply ease up on myself.

The truth is I don’t know how happy I am with my job.  I know I could stand to be happier.  I find the majority of people that I work with in my office to be like a high school clique.  I was never very popular in high school – nor did I need to be.  I was happy with who I was.  Strangely enough, I was at my happiest in what are usually considered ones angst years.  I had my moments and I felt the frustration some nights.  But there was a difference.

I was constantly active – playing three sports, hitting the textbooks and enjoying it (especially my senior year), I was a member of a most incredible youth group, I volunteered.  I was thirsty.  I was driven.  I may not have had the most friends, but I had myself, I was confident in my abilities and the friends I did have, I valued them and they valued me.  I had parents, a sister, grandparents and cousins (some of whom were like a second grandfather or grandmother) who were proud of my accomplishments and never hesitated to tell me how much they loved me. 

What happens as we age?  What keeps the drive alive for some as they progress throughout college and into the work world?  What is it?  Is it some genetic disposition that lights the fire inside?  Is it someone that pushes us because they didn’t think we could do it?  And why do some fall off the path that they were going and head off on another?

It’s called life.  And each day offers a new path for us.  Our day starts off clean as a slate.  We have the opportunity to create our way, our destiny.  We hold the keys.

I have lost sight of what makes my heart tick.  I have lost sight of the carefree life I once led - I miss feeling my hair blowing in the wind with the warm air caressing my body.  Sure, I have grown up - I have grown wise.  But my passions?  Well, they're in desperate need of restoration and even re-discovery.

I want to explore myself.  I want to connect with who I once was.  I want to push myself ever so gently.  I want to be on that smooth, empty stage, creating from scratch.  I am alone on the stage but I am not fearful.  I am breathing steady breaths and my shoulders are rising and falling.  My head bobs lightly back and forth – it is rhythmic.  I loosen my right arm, I watch it flow and my fingers begin to dance.  Then my left arm joins in.  I study my fingers closely, if only for a moment.  My body begins to feels light, weightless and I am moving.

I hear my melody, it’s led by a mandolin and the five simple words in my head….

I shall find a way... 

Next Stop: Adventureland

The summertime in New York City can be a fun experience - especially on weekends - or so I'm told.  The locals flee town for a weekend getaway somewhere fancy (think the Hamptons, nice spots along the Jersey  Shore - or as I know it - the Shore; some venture up to the Cape).  But this summer, due to a serious lack of funds and due to the fact my job STILL requires me to go on an 8 week hiatus, I, along with my girlfriend, have   decided to create a list of things we want to do and see in New York City.  We will try to stay within a budget of course, but we will sometimes splurge. 

Yes, it's been done before. And yes, people have blogged about before and perhaps this won't be any different than any other blog you've read about someone's New York City adventures.  But for me, as I am approaching my 32nd birthday, I feel this itch to see things, to do things that I have not seen.  I have always felt this itch and more often than I would like to admit, I have recently ignored it.  Whether it was out of pure laziness on my part, whether it was the fact I was clinging onto the idea of a possible relationship being rekindled, I realize now, more than ever, that time is precious.  We need to fill up our days with exploration and creation.  We need to see the world with new eyes, each and every day; we need to take a new path, go on the road less traveled.  

 I have done my fair share of traveling alone and I have enjoyed my time alone.  But there comes a time in ones life when you realize you want to experience the world, the sites with someone else.  And who better to do that with, than the one you love; to not only see it through your eyes, but also, her eyes.  Because she too is experiencing these moments, these journeys for the first time.  Nothing would bring me greater joy than to watch my love take in the beauty of Brooklyn's Botanical Garden or taking a tour of the Wax Museum to look at the figures in awe of how real each of them seem - and of course to make goofy poses with them too :)  

We'll do the cliched visits (Empire State Building; we'll do a hidden treasure (come on now, you actually think I would reveal one of NYC's hidden treasures for the blogging world to discover?); we'll do as much as we can, on as little as we can.


Part of me is driven to do this because, no matter what I do, New York doesn't fully feel like home.  I like it, but am I head over heels in love with it?  No.  I don't get all the fuss, but at the same time I do.  I love the culture that is available here (ballet, opera, theatre) - but I rarely get to experience it.  However, ever since Jennifer and I have been dating, I have seen more than my fair share of plays and I am soaking it up.  I love the cuisines that are at my fingertips - and yet, I cannot afford to dine the way I wish I could.  I love how I can get anywhere I want to go via subway 24-7.


Perhaps with these adventures, I will fall in love with New York, just like Carrie Bradshaw - yes, you read it - a blog about New York mentions, Miss New York herself.  


So here begins our journey.  Niffersay's Adventures.  Some might be boring; others down right dreadful.  Some tasty.  Some emotional.  Some entertaining.  But the one guarantee?  A memory for each and every one.  Our list is soon to follow.

 Here's our toast to New York City ... with currently, hesitated love.