Crying in public is not a bad thing

Sitting on the train a boy walks by me crying. His eyes are red, he wipes his nose with the back of his hand and says, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He moves through the aisle, trying not to hit anyone with his Adidas duffle.

I have been in this position as well: crying in public. I’ve been in airports, on a plane, even stopped on the side of the street. And while obviously in a fragile state, all people do is stare. They stare at you, and depending on the type of person they are, they either wonder

A: Are they allright? I hope they get through it. I hope everything for them works out okay.

B: I can’t believe that person is crying in public. How strange they seem, how weak, how out of control.

Last year, I sat crying on a stoop. With my head in my hands, then my arms around my knees, a woman stopped in front of me. Out of the handful of times I’ve cried in public, this woman was the first to stop.

What I love about this moment is  that although we were strangers, she crossed into my life and we saw each other for a moment. This woman could see the pain and hurt  I was going through, and she wanted to show her presence. Even though she couldn’t do anything, it was the gesture that made me smile.

Out of the pain I was feeling I was able to smile because on a street of millions of people, one person acknowledged what was going on in the world she was living in.

So often we ignore our surroundings. So often we pretend we don’t see things, because we are afraid to recognize what’s there.

I watch the boy cry and think how strong he is to show himself to us like this. How strong to be in the moment of what he feels and show us. It made me realize how out of tune we can become with our emotional selves. How easy it is to pretend we don’t see hurt and pain, not only in others but in ourselves.

To show weakness is more difficult because those emotions are true to who we are. Our weaknesses are our strengths – and the sooner we embody this idea, the easier it will be to live with the truth of who we are.

Living in Question Marks

I want to scream and go crazy and dance around my room, because sometimes my head fills with so many thoughts and emotions.

Sometimes I want to cry and I do, and I let it go. Other times I let it boil and then I need to dance; I need to move so that whatever is inside of me that needs to come out, does.

But the problem is I can’t identify what it is that is inside of me that needs to come out. It’s like this swell of emotion and it rages and it’s not negative. It’s actually positive and beautiful, and full and alive, and it wants to come out and it wants to breathe and it wants to be shared, but I don’t know what it is or what it’s for.

I can’t characterize it so it sits there and it swells and then fades, and then bursts up again, and

I have to dance

I have to write

I have to draw doors and do watercolors

and then I realize all the different art forms there are out there

and then I question if I am expressing myself in the right one

Do I need to merge them together? Do I need to define myself as more than one, and, can I? And of course I can, because I can be anything.

To be an expert at one thing makes you a novice at others.

I want to be everything.

I want to capture every thing.

I want to illuminate what’s mundane because it’s not at all dull.

I want to capture the cars on the BQE.

I want to capture the policewoman on the street conducting traffic.

I want to capture my computer at night with its light.

I want to capture sound.

How do I do it? How do I put it all in one place so that others can see how much beauty is around everywhere. How can I make others see how beautiful this world is in all of its ugliness and tragedy.

How do I push through it?

How do I let the world see the beauty of it all?

Through what art form?

Through what lens?

What lens shows what I see best?

What form does it take?

How do you reach people when you don’t know what it is you want to say but know that you have something to say?

Do you have to know what you want to say to say something at all?

I know there’s a lot in there and there are wheels turning and connections being made, but I have yet to connect the dots. I have yet to stop and look at them and really put them together, but maybe I don’t want to stop and analyze. Maybe all I want to do is experience what the feeling and emotion is and what it is trying to teach me.

Maybe it’s not going to teach me anything, but I feel this build up. It’s a build up like something amazing and big and unbelievable is about to happen and I don’t know what it is but I know it’s there.

It’s a moving target waiting for me to hit it. Waiting for me to take action.

And I don’t know what it is and I don’t know how to make it there, but I know I will. I will make it to wherever it is I’m supposed to because I know big things are happening, because I know things are moving around me and working beyond me.

The point is I’m moving. Inside, my mind is moving, my mind is working, and I’m moving. My body is moving, right now, my hands are moving and that’s a good thing. There’s movement. I am not stuck I am moving.

What it is I don’t know, but I feel it.

I can feel it.

And I don’t know how to do anything about it except to do just this, to feel it and live it, and cry with it because sometimes it’s overwhelming and intense and I don’t know how to work with all the emotion of what it is, because I don’t know what it is exactly at all. But it’s a feeling and it’s big and it’s true and it’s happening.

And I’ll know when it’s happened because it’s going to feel like being naked under a waterfall.

Why fear when you can feel?

Last night I went to see the French film Bachelor Days are Over, playing at Walter Reade for part of the Jewish Film Festival. I sat in my comfy seat expecting to laugh along with strangers, but instead found the whole experience depressing.

The first wave of sadness came within ten minutes of the opening credits. And the crash of frustration hit directly after when people started to laugh.

The film is about marriage. But instead of showing how wonderful a union can be, it focuses on all the cliches people think of when they hear the term. Sometimes wouldn’t it be nice to see a film that actually made you want to be in love, that inspired you to look forward to your future instead of fear it?

So the first bout of annoyance came from the fact that I was sitting there watching a film about unhappy people perpetuating their unhappiness, making it almost impossible to emotionally connect to them, and the second force of disappointment came from the laughter of the people in the audience. The laughter bothered me because it felt forced, a cycle of repetition, a misunderstanding of fear.

I didn’t stay for the Q&A session at the end. What was I going to ask? Why didn’t they make a different film … I couldn’t ask that, because, well, they obviously wanted to make this film. But maybe after watching it, people left thinking similarly to me. Maybe they turned to their partner and said,  I want our life to be different. I am with you because I love you, not because I settled or was scared I would end up alone. I want to be happy, I don’t want to sit on my life – I want to experience it and share it and the reason why I’m with you is because I want to share my life with you. I’m here because I want to be, not because I’m scared.

I’m ready for someone to make a piece that makes me want to be in love.

So far the only film I’ve seen recently that inspired and made me want to express more and feel more was the documentary Pina by Wim Wenders. “Dance, dance, otherwise we are lost” she says. The powerful film is in 3-D, and it invites you to enter and breathe in a magically real world for the length of the film.

The delicious inspiration I felt came from the movement, natural, that showcased an emotional experience flowing so easily through bodies as evidence that moving through fear and pain is the only way to overcome and open yourself to the beauty of experience. I’ve yet to find cliche in movement; it’s an art form difficult to hide in.

Spanish Coffee Maker: What are People Searching to Find?

It turns out that a lot of people are searching for the term Spanish coffee maker on Google. I know because that’s how many people seem to stumble onto my blog. I guess what I’m wondering is what are people looking to know? Are they looking for where they can find one, what it is, or how it works? Maybe I could help answer any questions …

The post I originally wrote devoted to the Spanish coffee maker was in my search to make my New York life more like Madrid. And the one I bought broke about a month or so ago. I left it on the stove too long and the handle popped off, spewing coffee all over my stove top. I went a month without buying a new one, I actually would have gone longer if it weren’t for my friend C who bought me a new one for the holidays.

Every morning while my coffee is brewing I pour my milk into a pot and let it heat up. There’s nothing better than feeling like I’m back in Madrid with a cafe con lech. Ah, Madrid. How I miss you.

Gym Contract Follow Up

I posted a bit ago about my love hate relationship with the gym contract. Well, it’s happened again. I went in to David Barton gym and paid the cancellation fee. It’s been two months, and they’ve continued to charge me.

I called, explained my situation, and luckily they fessed up to making a mistake. This is the first gym that’s ever taken the blame for something they should’ve taken the blame for. So kudos to David Barton for fessing up to the blunder. But, geeze, when a girl pays to cancel, that’s what she’s doing … canceling.