moments with murray

Born on March 23^rd, 1925, at 88 years old, Murray is my oldest friend. New York born and bred with a sharp wit and an endearingly gentle manner – I had the honour of sharing my last month or so in New York in the Upper Westside apartment of this dear soul.  Murray is the Father in Law for Jeff, the Founder of The Dream Flag Project, which is how we met and we quickly found a kindship in our shared love for nature, photography and poetry.

Murray has his quirks, his incredibly warm apartment with the radiators tuned to the hottest reminded me of the Bikram studio and his likeness for classical music was a wonderful soundtrack to our time shared. Murray lost his wife last year that he’d been married to for 53 years. While I’m sure he knew how to deal with his loss, as a now retired psychotherapist, I sensed the weight of his loss while I was there. “Not a day goes by that I don’t think of her” he said to me once as I admired all the stunning pictures of the life they shared together on display in his apartment. Heartbreak and grief had weighed down his spirit and I hope at the least my bouncing optimism and poetry recitals may have lightened the days we shared. I know the night I transformed his living room in to a movie theatre is marked high in the box of beautiful memories on the road while we enjoyed The Princess Bride together and it concluded with "You know what's funny, for a moment then, I thought I was at the movies" in his beautiful New York accent.

Given his background, I wanted to ask Murray some questions on life. I knew someone who'd had countless people lying in the proverbial horizontal position recounting their life stories probably enlightened him muchly to the human condition. 

So I asked my very grounded and rational friend “Murray, do you believe in God?”

His response was a flat-out “No”.

So then I asked… “So what do you believe in?”

To which he responded so eloquently in silence using only his fingertip as he drew on the dinner table a big giant question mark.

His faith in the mystery of life is something so simple and yet in this day so distant to what many ideas people conform to. We have created so many stories that we cling on to and many people follow them blindly without experiencing the mystery (or for me the magic)… These ideas that have been cause for war and social disharmony while also leveraged by politicians in powerful places to manipulate its people.

I have no issue with faith. It’s powerful and at times all that's been left. But perhaps faith in something that is silent, that just is, that doesn’t have a word nor rules that can be modified to manipulate its subjects, perhaps faith in the question mark may be a safer exploration in wisdom than anything written and translated by man. Yoga, among many other philosophical teachings has been a wonderful teacher to me but it'll never close my mind to the thoughts, ideas and inspirations of others; especially this wise and wonderful gentleman.

This is a song for him by an artist he really respects; Peter Seeger.

home of divine pancakes

After a delightfully inspiring week together in his hometown, I invited Kyle to share his take on his place in Vermont.

For me, there are countless reasons why I love my hometown. The difficulty lies in distinguishing the most important, the ones that best evoke the image of Norwich Vermont that I have created. Through the rustic, small town memories of my childhood; the crisp fall days of playing "ball"; the lazy, swimming summer days; and the waxing and waning of seasons, the memories pile one on top of another like pancakes until you have a stack miles high. Here is my attempt to find my "favorite" pancakes (banana chocolate chip and blueberry are the clear winners).

The blueberry pancake: Upon returning to Norwich for the first time after living for a year in Argentina, I was struck by the quiet and stillness of the place. So few cars on the roads, open expanse of forests, the quiet rustling of fallen leaves on the cold November earth. November is probably the bleakest time of year to visit Vermont, the days are short, the bright-colored leaves have long since faded and fallen, there is bitter cold but little snow. 

I like to think of this time of  year as the "intermission" between Fall and Winter. 

Yet even at this time of year there is a stark beauty that spreads over all feeling like a blanket, warming the soul. Perhaps part of it is the sun, maintaining a purple twilight, beams of light dancing through blue openings in the clouds, moving swiftly through the fresh autumn air. 

One is driven to move "slower" in this environment. The frenetic pace of city life has thankfully not yet been adopted and I find the slower pace allows for a greater stillness of mind, clarity of thought, and sureness of action. When dipping in to a maple soaked bite of blueberry pancake, one can slow down and savor the melding of flavors. The way the syrup blends and complements the blueberry, or how both soak deliciously into the pancake batter. Sometimes it can be such a relief to just disconnect for a while, slow down and enjoy every angle of the present experience, which too often seems forgotten in a world of time management and capitalist efficiency. 

That's the blueberry, now for the banana chocolate chip!

Coming back to Vermont after spending extended periods of time away fills me with all the feelings and sensations characteristic of one reconnecting with the deep pool of childhood memories. Driving along the tree-lined streets, through the picturesque towns with the old congregational churches and 19th century town houses, past the children playing soccer or tag at recess, the fond memories I associate with this wonderful state come bounding back.

I love the fact that I can go to work at the daycare that I once attended when I was just a tiny tot, and how I now work alongside some of the same teachers who once watched me grow up. 

I love how my town still has only one general store, and their motto is "if we don't have it, you don't need it." 

I look forward to returning to the winter hiking in three feet of snow, knowing you're the first and only person on the trail because no other human tracks precede you (sometimes one gets a moose, but not often).

Most of all though is the deep sense of community one feels for the town, the people, friends, family, even people you've never seen before. This strong community connection could be due to an abiding Vermont culture, one that lives on in the "local" demeanor, the architecture, and the traditions, new and old, that continue to build lasting memories year after year. 

I've never found pancakes anywhere else in the world that can quite measure up to a hearty, thick, dinner-plate sized maple soaked buttermilk and blueberry pancake (please excuse the excessive adjectives) that one is greeted with at any local breakfast establishment here in Vermont or New Hampshire. Much of what one finds in this wonderful region is unique, just like the pancakes, and it is in these unique cultural experiences that these lasting memories are created, and it is why I am constantly drawn back to Vermont.

If home is truly one's anchor in the world, then Vermont is my anchor. It is the foundation I return to time and again to find balance, to reconnect with my memories and find peace in the deep pool of experiences that I've built as a "Vermonter." 

You can read more from Kyle on his blog here.

a good friend. indeed.

I feel pretty blessed that I have some great friends in my life, despite missing them to pieces sometimes as they plot themselves around the globe while I go on gallivants (to see them too if I am lucky). They are my lighthouses as I travel yond seas to the music of the wind.

As my lovely fellow traveler friend Riikka (now training huskies in Greenland) reminded me "It is definitely good to have some lighthouses, but how you weave your way from one to another will be easier to see when you get closer, so do not worry about it too much. Your skills, mind and attitude can take you anywhere!"

I read that happy people wisely surround themselves with happy, positive people who share values and goals. Friends that have the same ethics who encourage you to achieve your dreams. They help you to feel good about yourself and are there to lend a helping hand when needed.

This video hits the nail on the head filmed at The Gutter Bowling (Brooklyn, NYC) and gives me warm tingles (except avenging death - my inner yogini doesn't feel so well aligned with this).

getting holy in NYC

New York is inspiring my soul right now. She's a big, bossy city that has an attitude that can sweep one in to disillusion and confusion or inspire one to play in her cool blistery Autumnal winds. Christmas is on its way and I feel like re-enacting Home Alone visiting toy stores and hitting an ice rink while enduring my first winter in two years.

I spent my first week in New York with family and it was wonderfully joyous. We hired a place through airbnb in Brooklyn and spent 5 special memorable days exploring the city together.

The highlights include:

• Phantom of the Opera at Broadway (tip: buy on the day tickets for half the price)
• Central Park live jazz
• The New York Public Library
• Midnight city views from the Empire State Building
• A visit to The Museum of Modern Art
• A ferry trip including a visit to the Statue of Liberty
• Brews and sweet potato chips at The Grey Dog, Chelsea
• Outdoor Ice-Skating
• Getting to the "Top of the Rock" and mounting the Rockefeller Building
• Unanimously vowing to not go to Starbucks cafes despite them being on every side of every street in the city.

More snaps on the photoblog.

A low light:

There's one thing that does really bother me about this city and that's seeing the homeless people in the streets freezing in bundles. It doesn't feel fair at all especially in a city that has so much power.

Last night I was on a very late night subway (they run 24hours here!) and ran the risk of falling asleep and missing my stop. I turned to a guy next to me, he was black, with a beanie hat and had the lines of a man who's lived through some painful tales. I don't know if he lives on the streets but he certainly wasn't so fresh and clean and I realised there were quite a few homeless people crashing out on trains or on benches at the stations as is common here.

"Excuse me. Would you mind making sure I don't miss my stop?" I asked him half laughing to myself at hearing how British I sounded in the mostly empty 3am carriage. He smiled at me, remarked on my accent and we started chatting. We talked about the world, about freedom and about holiness and faith... there wasn't any conclusion besides a hug of gratitude as I reached my stop and that little sense of 'holy sh*t I just had an angel undercover moment' as the guy kept me alert enough to not pass out and spend the small hours sleeping on a train.

Of course one must be aware when traveling in the small hours, especially if sleepy, and I don't know if I'll ever hear the end of those 'words of warnings' to the female solo traveler (some tips), but its amazing how true kindness can be inspired by a little gesture or a word or two between strangers, worlds apart and yet equally human. 

I don't think my superhero powers will have me taking the homeless off the streets of New York, but I might make some huge hints to people who can... 

OH... HI... THERE... ;)

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