A New York State of Mind

Stepping foot into New York is like disappearing into a whole different world, one filled to the brim with paradoxes. New York is a widely known place. Its traits are easily identified and are discussed all over the world; yet, going to New York you find that around every corner and down every avenue is a new secret, hiding in wait. The hustling people, the constant movement, the noise -- it all contradicts the quiet parks and downtown apartment buildings seated next to cafes. Looking up you feel minuscule amongst all the imposing skyscrapers -- lost in a great expanse, but, in shifting your vision to street level you feel trapped with the thousands of residents that live and roam in the city. The bright lights and sun gleaming off the sides of buildings contrasts sharply with the cloak of night, the city illuminated only by the dim fairy lights that hang and the street lamps posted on every corner. New York is the middle ground for two ends of the same spectrum: a place where everything resides, and anything is possible.

It was on this summer morning that I was once again returning to the city that stole my heart. The car ride into the city was full of glancing looks at my phone to check the time and wandering stares out the window, trying to sneak any small view of the city’s figure. It was an eternity until my gaze was able to fall on the city’s outskirts. From that moment on, my eyes stayed wide open, trying to memorize the city skyline like a map.

I could barely contain myself as my friend’s mom parked the car. I tumbled to the outside, desperate to spend as much time in the city’s heart as possible. It felt unbelievably like a scene from a movie,; every moment was spent turning my body and craning my neck, my head rising and falling. I wanted to see everything. It was a short walk to the Highline. I was informed that it was newly remodeled, transformed from abandoned train tracks to a garden path that you could walk on. My friends mom who had taken us into in the city,;left the three of us alone so we could take as much time as we desired to admire the scenery. I was grateful, because the instant I stepped onto the path I felt myself get lost in the lush green canopy in the sky.

My friends and I strolled slowly along the trail. I was in heaven. I am infatuated with walking, walking anywhere and everywhere because I love the scenery, the tranquility and the therapeutic qualities it holds. More than anything though, I love how time slows down while I walk. Every breath seems deeper and every minute drips by slowly. I danced along the trail, my steps light as I stared at every plant. For some reason I adore appreciating the aesthetic of an area. I could’ve spent all my life on that trail, sleeping under the stars, among the blooming flowers and shading trees. Luckily, however, my friend graciously brought her camera along, and by no means did we use it sparingly.

It was moments like these in which I longed to have an eidetic memory, if only to possess these gorgeous scenes forever. I felt somewhat ostracized, alone in my own world; feeling as though no one ever can, or ever will understand the intense sentiments I possess towards walking and staring wistfully at everything. But that was alright by me. I didn’t mind being able to lose myself in my mind,; the euphoria I felt was enough company. And so I stayed, observing the garden, the sky, the buildings- taking in every detail: counting the petals of the plants, memorizing the palette of the sky, examining the direction and roughness of the bricks, exploring every line, curve, texture.

I did the same thing down on the city floor. I peered at the brick plaster apartment building, letting my eyes wander across its structure. I shut my eyes tight and stood still -- blocking out the outside for a moment -- and tried imagined what it would feel like to live here. What it would be like to feel my feet upon the cool wooden boards, or to graze my hands over the rough, worn down bricks, or to stand out on my balcony shrouded by the cloak of midnight and watch the restless city down below.

I was shaken from my wonderous daydreaming and forced to abandon my luscious garden haven. Sorrow overtook my heart as I glanced longly back at this modern day Garden of Eden. However, in trade of this organic beauty, I was able to fall in love with the rest of the city’s facettes.

That day it seemed that I transferred from an entirely different world, moving from one side of a coin to its matching one. One side being a tranquill, isolated universe stationed in the sky; a world made of fantasy, floating delicately above reality. The other world, one securely stationed to reality, stuck in fast forward with time racing past it. These two worlds contrast sharply, but blend together to create a city unlike any other in the country: the best of all worlds. A secluded oasis, a place where each person resides solely in their mind, where silence reigns and time is frozen -- to a concrete city full of vibrant life where everything is alive and breathing and nothing is still. Here no one lives in their mind, everyone lives in their heart. Up above I feel disconnected from life- from all the stress, but when I feel my feet hit the ground again and look around to see the bustling city I am reminded of what it means to to truly be alive. Two opposite ways to live, feel, and view the world, both are equally spectacular and breathtaking.

In a dream like wonderment I travelled through the city, my heart and mind in a race as I took in everything. I felt hypersensitive, like everything I was feeling, smelling, seeing, all of it felt more intense; every flashing sign brighter, every warm breeze lighter, the skyscrapers taller. Following in the steps of the setting sun, we began to leave. For the entirety of the painfully quick walk there I was in an internal combat -- my body fighting itself. I had to go, but I never wanted to leave. Even though I never stopped moving forward, my hands were out desperately in hope of capturing at least one of the many fleeting moments.

Going to New York is something short of a sacred event. I love everything about it. Stepping in I get lost in it’s world. Every sound, every smell, every burst of wind or glimmer of sunshine leaves me wanting more and more. Going there, there is so much happening, so much to explore -- to absorb. I yearn to go, to be able to close my eyes and to stop time so I can take in the frozen world and experience every wonder it holds.

Every trip back is a relapse; each trip only feeds my addiction. My trips to New York are feeble attempts to stifle my hunger, but it only proves to be self-destructive. Every time I venture back I conserve myself to taking in every detail, living in every moment trying, desperately, trying to hold on to them as long as I can. And, yet, as each moment arrives and passes, simultaneously I sense them depart and take flight. Leaving me with only the ghost of a feeling.

When I reluctantly depart, I always leave feeling giddy and satisfied, like an electric current ran up my spine or like a hole was filled. But when I get home I am left with a bittersweet feeling as a grander yearning forms. Once it did so I feel myself pulled back. The city has taken a hold of me, taking me as its prisoner. At one point against my will, but now I willingly comply.

I think I find myself loving New York because in it, I allow myself to indulge in the simple things of the world, like being able to stare and look at the scenery around me. In my everyday life I’m preoccupied and miss everything that happens. I miss the night skies, the light breeze, the porch lights and wooden chairs. I miss the soft chatter that fills the quiet streets, or the laughter that can be found on Saturday afternoons in my hometown. But when I’m in the city I can truly live; I don’t need to worry about anything else- not my plans for tomorrow or my homework for tonight. For the time being I am the determiner of my own path, I have nowhere to go and everywhere to visit. In visiting I am granted the gift of being able to simply exist.

It’s strange how one place, a place that sees thousands of people a day, can have such an influence on one person’s life. The city is awake while the rest of the world is in a deep slumber. It never rests, never stops moving. Like a heart beating, it is constant and alive; it lets me share in that feeling of being alive. I feel lost when I am not within the labyrinth of the city. I feel incomplete, like I’m missing a piece that would complete the set. And so, going to New York is-perhaps- like going on a quest to find what has been take. For I am incomplete, because New York stole my heart and lives in my mind.