Today was the kind of day when most people choose to go to the beach. Brutal heat, no breeze, Mondays museum are closed so unless you want to hangout in an air conditioned mall, the beach it is.
As a New Yorker, I have learned to push further then our local beaches Brighton Beach and Coney Island. In the recent years the health advisories were unsettling to say the least.
Heading to the Rockaways seemed like one’s safer and “cleaner” choice.
Or so I thought until today.
We chose our destination: Jacob Riis Beach.
Not our first time.
As I stepped outside this morning and felt blessed. Not sure this is the best word as it has heavy religious connotations and I am not. I guess I felt blessed by what I believe in the most: nature.
The sun was still rising, a bright blue sky with pink notes and few uneven groups of clouds were surrounding me.
And the breeze.
The perfect breeze.
A mix of warm and chilly air. A breeze inviting me to close my eyes and take a moment to feel the presence of what no one can see. I heard one describe love…
Today I love my city.
The first days of spring always have the most invigorating impact on New York and its inhabitants.
Hari Krishna’s are out chanting, the biker riding along union Square with his radio blasting hip-hop in the sun. Overhearing the ASCAP volunteer in a deep conversation with a veteran and ending it with "I love you man, I want you to be the mayor", Union Sq. farmer’s market in ébullition , honey, flowers, bread, everyone tasting samples of heavenly bites, laughs.
I am breathing in, New York’s energy.
Getting lost in the West Village, forgetting the time…
I entered the fourth decade of my life not long ago. One known for introspection, mid-life crisis, achievements, left-over to do lists.
40 is the new 30 or so they say — kind of waiting on this one still.
The previous decade was hard.
I lost both my parents and few other significant and meaningful people, I was drained by complicated administrative and financial hardships related to those losses that lasted 5 years. …
I have been enduring an excruciating headache for the last three days.
It reminds me how our body and spirit are so intertwined and intimately connected.
As my neuro functions are not rolling at 100% it affects so many part of my life and my personality.
I lack patience.
My creativity is limited due to my lack of connection to the outside world. My inside world demanding such big amounts of attention.
Mindfulness seems key.
As much as I dislike the pain I try to focus on connecting with my body.
Listen to it.
It’s the little things…
During an insightful conversation on the train on the way to work one morning, my friend and I talked about previous relationships. Not uncommon but the conversation landed on how some people once over their partner, completely flip their behavior and get as cold as icebergs. Most often as a defense mechanism but nevertheless rejecting the other person, what they represent, what you brought to them and ultimately rejecting the piece you added to the chess board of their life.
Long after our morning commute this conversation kept playing in my head and I realize why. I deeply believe that…
As I am watching water flowing down the vase, finding it’s way through and around rocks and sand, it suddenly strikes me as seeing for the first time concretely what a mother’s love feels like.
It fills every little part of you. Forever.
It’s the little things…
I am a visual person.
I express myself, my emotions, my pain, my happiness through visuals… using my hands. Most often in the form of pictures. I have used other mediums but photography has always helped me communicate about what I see, and how I see the world around me and how it impacts me on the inside.
As adults we get accustomed to everyday beauty or phenomenon to the point of not noticing them anymore, and we tend to not “feel” the amazement we once used to when we were kids.
I recall an anecdote in the strong one…
This is the heart of my daily photographic inspiration and journey. Looking around me, seeing with fresh eyes what one may see as everyday uninteresting rubbish.
This the ceiling light of the B train, yellowed by time, half broken, with a residue of… maybe… glue holding an ad for Dr. Z, best plastic surgeon in town (has been a while since I saw one of these), or maybe paint spray can, who knows. …
This is my first trial ever at blogging, journaling. I hope I will be eloquent enough despite English being my second language. I have too much to share not to try.
This is going to be a short and sweet one.
On May 1 there is a tradition in my country to buy flowers called Lilly of the valley (muguet) You can literally buy them at every street corner. Picture the guys trying to sell you a $1 bottle of Poland Spring in the middle of Prospect Expressway on a humid 105F day but with flowers. They are cheap and…
Smile, it won't mess up your hair.