These ladies from Code Pink were there — looking awesome and fiesty femininsty gorgeous. Their message? War is not green. Yes. And tons of kids. And patient parents. We had to wait on 72nd Street for about an hour before we could feed in to the march. Here we are passing by Columbus Circle. It felt like the march opened up here and we could look around. All the humanity. I like their sign that said, “We have solutions.” It wasn’t just a march where people pointed out the problems. Although there was some of that. Vegans educated us on the reality that cows are a huge contributor to greenhouse gas emissions. There was a lot of music. But, as in any march, my favorite is “We shall overcome!” I melt when I hear that at a march.
Yesterday I took a long bike ride, from where I was teaching — around Central Park and 77th to 180th and Broadway for my girlfriends’ craft club.
I took the bikeway. Around the uptown Fairway, I had to detour under the West Side Highway.
Like when I run, when I ride, I am not fast. That gives me time to talk to myself. And time to think. Too often, I scold myself. So last night, I was trying just to be. Just to notice.
Notice the generosity of the Hudson River. Notice the crazy summer flowers that refuse to believe summer is almost over.
Coming back home, in the complete dark, I did not have so much fun. Many places along the path are pitch black and I don’t have a light. I need more light.
- NYC – Biking Central Park (theouds.wordpress.com)
There is something sad, inevitable, beautiful about autumn in New York.
This wedding party was traipsing around Bethesda Fountain. Every time, I’ve chillaxed here with my kids or my friends, brides and grooms and wedding parties have been soaking in the magic of this Central Park spot too, guarded over by the Angel of the Waters.
I’ve written about The Angel Above Us a few months back. She is a part of it all, yet she is above it all too. She is about to take off, yet she’s firmly rooted in place. Oh, to be an angel and watch the whole passing parade.
I’d heard that this section of the park was supposed to be a quiet zone. Yet a few weeks ago, the break dancers had music blasting, the little dogs were yapping, and all of the world’s languages were coinciding, right here at the center of Central Park in New York City.
And now you know why I called this blog My Beautiful New York.
I’d seen the walkway across the Hudson at Poughkeepsie every time I took Amtrak upstate. I wanted to walk the longest pedestrian bridge at 1.25 miles, but never thought I’d make it to Poughkeepsie. But I did (the night before, I’d had dinner at the CIA).
On a Friday afternoon in August, I realized my dream: I strolled the promenade.
I always hope for a big epiphany when I walk. But from 300 feet above the Hudson, all I noticed was the beauty of the river that runs both ways. I noticed the fluffiness of the clouds. And I noticed that other people walk at their own pace. Maybe those are epiphanies.
Times Square never seemed Namaste to me. Times Square is a moving place, a kaleidoscope of tourists snapping pics, of flashing billboards, of the Naked Cowboy, of friendly police officers on horseback, of quick pickpockets.
Times Square is a place to hustle through or be hustled in. But it is never chill.
Until yesterday. On my way to breakfast I passed this. How awesome.
Hundreds and hundreds of people doing yoga together in Times Square. And here they are moving from downward dog to cobra. The yogis centered the shifting kaleidoscope. They slowed the hustle. They brought inner peace. Then they picked up their mats and hustled on.
Sometimes I don’t really feel like getting going in the morning. I’m in a groove with my writing and I don’t feel like waking the kids or setting their cereal on the kitchen table (I know, I know, they’re spoiled and they should do that themselves).
To cheer myself up, I think, “Hey, you’ll get to ride past the flowers in Riverside Park.”
When they were making that movie, I rode by on my bike. I stopped to watch them set up the shot. They were adding fake flowers throughout the garden. They were covering up the vents.
I chatted with the designer who was dressing the garden.
“Why are you adding more to the garden? It’s so lush.”
The designer agreed, “But we have to because we want things to be blooming in there that wouldn’t be blooming in there all together this time of year.”