Rockefeller and the MoMA

Thursday, the afternoon of New Year's Eve, we wandered to the MoMA, making a quick stop at Rockefeller Plaza first...

Photo by J. Drew

...where the giant tree sparkled and skaters possessing various degrees of athletic grace and skill circled the ice rink. Despite our original reluctance to participate in any "Christmas cheer" we were all seduced by the lingering holiday sparkle of Manhattan. Heck, we survived hearing "Silent Night" at St. Patrick's Cathedral (though just barely) — the sight of a 90 foot Christmas tree was a breeze after that.

There was another long line for tickets at the MoMA, but this one moved quickly, and while we stood waiting we listened to the Middle Eastern dance music of the food vendor on the opposite sidewalk. The Tim Burton show was sold out for the day, but there were plenty of other things to see — like the Bauhaus exhibit, running until January 25, and a special showing of some of Monet's Water Lillies in the MoMA's new building.

Once inside we headed to the top floor first. This view looks down on Gabriel Orozco's "Mobile Matrix", a whale skeleton fitted onto a metal armature and inscribed with graphite rings and circles.

Beautiful stairs, but we opted for the escalators. So did everyone else.

It's both thrilling and humbling to stand in front of great art, as was the case when Van Gogh's Starry Night came into view. Or Marc Chagall's I and the Village, above.

Or Frida Kahlo. Swoon. Frida Kahlo touched this.

Or Joseph Cornell.

Or — what?! Big brother as art.

Outside on the streets the police were gathering — an army of them. More police than I've ever seen in one place at one time. Note the sea of dark uniforms and hats in J's photo above. Times Square was briefly closed down on New Year's afternoon, thanks to the discovery of an out-of-place suspicious white van. Security was extremely tight, requiring a hotel room key and body search (with a metal and chemical detecting wand) to get on/off of any side streets around the Times Square area as the afternoon turned to evening.

Nothing suspicious going on here, officer!

All is Calm, All is Bright

Thursday morning we paid a visit to St. Patrick's Cathedral on Madison Avenue.

The interior is beyond belief, Gothic arches soaring towards vaulted ceilings, jewel-like stained glass windows glowing far above marble statues and golden altars. 12:00 mass was in progress.

Standing in the back of the church amongst the whirlwind of bundled-up visitors, my brother and I suddenly shared the same thought — to light memorial candles for my mom, whose presence we felt very strongly in these spiritual surroundings. She would have loved visiting St. Patrick's, though I think she would not for a moment have wanted to trade the modest church she attended in Rhode Island for such a grand monument to Catholisism. But she would have appreciated it, nonetheless. Our candles flickered amongst hundreds of other flames.

The way I've come to see it since my mom died (and only since), death comes down to her living on in the spiritual world, while I remain here in the physical. The opportunity to get closer to her (and "bridge the gap" so to speak) is available when I'm willing and able to tap into the spiritual aspects of life. Thus my quest. Thus the chanting, the meditation, the candles lit, the books read, the path re-examined with an open mind and heart.

During my week in NY I begain Deepak Chopra's The Book of Secrets in the hotel room at night, or by the pool in the afternoon (surprisingly, we couldn't get the internet to work there, so I had very little to distract me from reading). Compelled to write The Book of Secrets after the sudden death of his father, Krishan Lal Chopra, Deepak shares the following:

I couldn't escape the feeling that he had completely and utterly disappeared, this man who had been the most loved person in my life and the last one I thought of losing so soon. But the fact that he had passed with such clear, calm awareness kept all of us from feeling the deepest pangs of grief. Although I was certain Krishan Chopra was gone in the form of the body and personality I knew, my emotions couldn't rest until I articulated, in every detail possible, what he had become, The mystery was changing him from on state to another, and I realized that the same transformation is happening in myself and in everyone. We are all held together and we all dissolve according to mystery, nothing else.

The book is dedicated with these words. "To my father. Your graceful life and your graceful death inspired and finally unlocked the hidden dimensions of my life."

Winter Wreath, NYC

West 81st St, facing the Hayden Planetarium.

Downtown, Uptown

On Wednesday, after a leisurely breakfast at Norma's, we took the subway to Chambers St. to visit the WTC site. Tall, metal fences hid the area from view this time, but St. Paul's Chapel (where George Washington worshiped) was open to visitors.

Despite being filled with visitors it was very peaceful inside.

Across the street we found a space dedicated to previewing the 9-11 Memorial. Here's a scale model of the reflecting pools slated for the footprints of the twin towers, surrounded by 400 trees — Swamp White Oak and Sweetgum that will fill the site with early autumn color on the anniversary of the attacks. From the memorial website:

The trees have been selected from within a 500-mile radius of the World Trade Center site, with additional trees coming from locations in Pennsylvania and near Washington, D.C. (Maryland), areas impacted on September 11, 2001.

The Plaza Structure The Memorial Plaza actually sits atop a 70-foot below-grade building that houses a museum, a train station, and other facilities that fill the chasm left by the events of 9/11. In order to grow healthy trees in this context, the trees on the Memorial quadrant will be installed in a suspended paving system that has been devised by Peter Walker and Partners. The paving of the plaza will rest on a series of pre-cast concrete tables that “suspend” the Plaza over troughs of planting soil that run the full width of the Plaza. The suspended paving system will allow the soil to remain uncompacted, since the paving that people walk on is separated from the planting soil below. Many urban trees live in stressful conditions because they are planted under pavements on which people walk or drive, thereby compacting the soil so severely that the roots cannot extend through it to gather water and nutrients.

Mural at Lil' Frankies. Photo by J. Drew

From there it was back on the subway to the East Village for lunch at Lil' Frankies. I wouldn't dream of skipping a visit to this spot while in the city. The three of us had no problem finishing our wood-fired pizzas. And Wednesday night: an unplanned dinner at 'Cesca (we had reservations at Chez Josephine but ran into such a traffic snarl we had to skip them) and Fela!

The Eugene O' Neil decked out for Fela! Photo by J. Drew

I had my hopes up for Fela! and it managed to exceed them. From the Afro-beat music played live on stage by members of Antibalas to the sexy, athletic choreography, to the kaleidoscopic lighting and sets — all of it was just jaw-dropping, and completely immersive. And little did we know one of the themes that ran throughout the show was Fela's dedication to his deceased mother, Funmilayo, who appeared on stage in a number of moving flashbacks, and whose vital advice Fela summounded via a ceremonial visit to the Yoruba spirit world, one of my favorite scenes.

It's easy to get in the mood when the band starts playing before the show begins.

Photo by J. Drew

I would love to see this production again before it closes, and I know several friends who would love it. Road trip, anyone?

After the show we took in the lights of Times Square, where it's always as bright as day. My brother was already talking about planning his next trip to see more shows.

Here's a video clip from the cast's appearance on The Cobert Report:

Origami Tree

Behold the origami-filled holiday tree at the Museum of Natural History! Check out that big white jelly fish! The paper stars actually circled the tree in an orbit of sparkles, and we all decided we wanted our own trees just like this next year. You can see a slide show of the paper creatures here.

Dead and Alive at the American Museum of Natural History

On Tuesday we braved arctic wind to stand in line for the American Museum of Natural History. It wasn't necessarily my first choice of museums, but we had to pick up tickets for an evening show at the adjoining planetarium anyway, and it was far too chilly to wander anywhere else.

Inside, children and families swarmed around beautiful dioramas, intricate models of countless life forms, cases of relics and statuary, re-assembled dinosaurs and fossils.

The crowds and subdued lighting made photography difficult. We simply wandered, trying not to lose sight of each other in the meleé.

Though we asked, our tickets didn't end up including any of the 3 special exhibits. Luckily, a sympathetic ticket-taker outside the Frogs: A Chorus of Colors exhibit waved us in anyway.

Yay! Living things!

Including this Chinese Gliding Frog who appeared to have an aqua heart on his belly.

And a salad-plate sized toad soaking in his mossy bed.

Five Senses Friday on a Saturday #35

See:
• Hello again, beautiful Manhattan
• The dazzling, be-decked holiday windows of 5th Avenue
• My brother slip-sliding up and down the icy walkways of Central Park on New Year's Eve

Smell:
• Sidewalk vendors roasting chestnuts
• A small sample of pink handmade soap a shopkeeper handed me in midtown
• The sharp scent of chlorinated pool, reminding me of childhood vacations on the Cape
• Restaurant kitchen vents directly below our hotel window filled the room with the smell of fried chicken the first night we tried to get some "fresh air."
• The smoke of fireworks filling midtown on New Year's Eve

Taste:
• Streamed Bangcock dumplings, strips of tender, marinaded steak in peanut sauce over a salad of crunchy cucumbers, greens, and onions at Topaz Thai restaurant in midtown. This is one restaurant I'll definitely visit again.
• Cherry cheesecake
• The much-craved for veggie Pad Thai at Republic Noodles
• A breakfast at Norma's ("The Best Breakfast in Manhattan") of Mango-papaya brown butter Cinnamon crepes, French-press coffee, and a shot of fresh strawberry guava juice
• Pizza and beer at Lil' Frankies
• Spinach ravioli

Feel:
• Cold feet waiting in line for tickets to the Museum of Natural History on Tuesday. It was 11 degrees out, windy, and the computers were down which led to a queue that stretched to the end of the block
• A warm paper bag full of chestnuts

Hear:
• The explosion of fireworks over Central Park, rolling thunderclaps against midtown skyscrapers
• Silent Night at St. Patrick's Cathedral. Sleep in heavenly peace.
• Man on the street to Ken, J, and I who were standing on the sidewalk outside the 55th Street Deli scooping spoonfuls of gelato into our mouths: "That's not ice cream you're eating, is it?!"
My brother, "Oh no! It's gelato!" Man walks away, shaking head.
Minutes later, amused cop on his beat, "Are you guys eating gelato?!"
Well I thought nothing shocked New Yorkers. All I can say for myself is that there's no gelato here in Western MA, so despite it being cold, rainy, and 1 in the morning, the night before we left NY was the perfect time to enjoy some.

Empire State of Mind

New York bound...

Five Senses Friday #34

See:
• Canadian geese in cornfield rows
• A huddle of leftover Christmas trees in an empty lot
• Glimpses of the sun's perfect roundness through winter haze
• A room full of kaliedoscopes
• An angry man tearing the plastic wrapper off his newspaper and throwing it on the ground as he walked hastily down the sidewalk in Northampton. A few steps after throwing down the wrapper, he chucked all the colored advertising inserts down as well.

Hear:
• The mesmerizing repetition of Guru Singh's Ong SoHung chant lightens my heart
• Optimistic chickadees singing their spring song

Feel:
• Opening two last Christmas gifts from my mom, and not having her there to thank. I miss her terribly. I'm not sure words exist for how I've felt this week, settling deeper into the loss.
• Car windows open to an afternoon of warm sunlight
• Welcomed for Christmas with my cousins and their families; happy and grateful to be there having fun

Taste:
• Pesto, frozen from the summer garden
• Ham, creamed spinach, candied sweet potatoes, lasagna, graham cracker cake, chocolate-dipped strawberries, chocolate walnut fudge...yeah, I did a lot of eating this afternoon.

Smell:
• A deep breath of pine, a wreath on my brother's door

Christmas

Love Thursday

"Live each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit, and resign yourself to the influences of each." — Henry David Thoreau

From my Zen page-a-day yesterday morning. Merry Christmas Eve, everyone.

Juxtapostion

I thought I was taking a quick photo of a garland shadow against the wall of a local supermarket, but can anyone else see the f-bomb written in white above the shadow? I didn't even notice it there until I uploaded the image!

Dancing, Chanting, Germs and Books...

Saturday I saw my first performance by the Nataraj Dancers, one of whom is a good friend of ours. The core of the troupe's repertoire are Odissi, traditional temple dances of India that include elaborate costumes, devotional music, tinkling ankle bells, and percussive rhythms. Much of the story behind each dance is related through mudras, the Sanskrit word for a hand gesture depicting a thought, an idea or a word. Both the language and the mudras were completely foreign to me, but the performance was beautiful and it's timing perfect. The past month has turned out to be a bit of a crash-course in Indian culture for me as I immerse myself further in both Kirtan and research. Photos and videos were prohibited at the performance but I hope you'll check out their website. The dancing was followed by the most amazing Pakistani Chai tea I've ever tasted.

Speaking of Kirtan, Sunday morning I found myself at yet another unfamiliar but nearby location for chanting at 10am followed by an incredible vegetarian Indian feast for lunch. There were enormous bowls and pots of jasmine rice, curries, flavorful chickpea and lentil stews, tangy Raita, fresh baked Naam, and sweet balls of cheese floating in a thick rose-water syrup for dessert. There was more spicy Chai to ladle out of huge aluminum kettles, and it was all just delicious. Thanks to Kirtan I've now visited 4 new places in the past month and met quite a few new people.

I found that Kirtan in the morning has a very different energy than at night. It could have been the brightness of the windowed room, or the coffee coursing through my system, or the energy level of a couple of little kids who attended...but it was different. I think I prefer the gatherings that happen at night. I think if my mom could have seen me smile at the little girl who came up and sneezed in my face while I had my eyes closed, she would have laughed hysterically and wondered how on earth I kept my peaceful composure. Which made me smile. A big germ-covered grin. Did I mention that I (calmly) drove home between chanting and the Indian lunch to drop a tablet of Airborne into a tall glass of water and gulp it down? Yes, I sure did. I'm determined to stay healthy for my trip to the city.

After the Indian feast it was off to a friend's family Christmas gathering where we were welcomed like members of the clan, a priceless gift this season. Later on, at home, I finished the book Breakfast with Buddha, a comical novel of road-trip-meets-spiritual-quest. If you're already familiar with Eastern religion this book won't reveal any earth-shattering secrets, but it's entertaining. I read it easily in two sittings. I'm still working my way through The Way of the Wizard as well, which I would describe as Deepak Chopra lite. I'm waiting for a new shipment of denser titles to arrive in the mailbox any day now — Mindsight: The New Science of Personal Transformation by Daniel J. Siegal, Lovingkindness: The Revolutionary Art of Happiness, and Faith: Trusting Your Own Deepest Experience, both by Sharon Salzberg.

Solstice

I notice both the the birds and I are still lately, conserving our energy in the cold. I console myself with books, and reacquaint myself with fate. The darkest days of the year are behind us, or so I hope.

Lullaby
My little lack-of-light, my swaddled soul,

December baby. Hush, for it is dark,

and will grow darker still. We must embark

directly. Bring an orange as the toll

for Charon: he will be our gondolier.

Upon the shore, the season pans for light,

and solstice fish, their eyes gone milky white,

come bearing riches for the dying year:

solstitial kingdom. It is yours, the mime

of branches and the drift of snow. With shaking

hands, Persephone, the winter’s wife,

will tender you a gift. Born in a time

of darkness, you will learn the trick of making.

You shall make your consolation all your life.

by Amanda Jernigan

Five Senses Friday #33

See:
• One white seagull flying overhead against a cold, blue sky. Not a common sight here.
• The giant band of roving wild turkeys have been feeder-hopping throughout the neighborhood. I often catch sight of them on my morning commute, 20 or 30 gathered in someone's front yard or driveway.
• A dead deer in the back of a pickup this morning. I took off my gloves to touch its smooth antlers and dry, wiry fur, but it was looking at his faded, lifeless eyes that made me want to run away and sob. The hunter may have thought I was appreciating his prowess. My admiration was soley for the deer.
• Several unexpected, lovely gifts in my mailbox over the last few weeks.

Hear:
• Kirtan at a beautiful new 12-sided yoga studio not far from here.
• Howling wind - our current cold snap has been brutal.
• The plaintive, raspy meow of our gray cat.

Taste:
• Roasted free range chicken and root vegetables — take out from the local store.
• Fabulous chocolate gingersnap Christmas cookies delivered to the office from an author.
• A sip of whiskey-laced eggnog on ice.

Smell:
• Incense.
• Fresh paint - my boss is getting a new office. I may be one of the few people on earth who's terribly disappointed that my boss is moving farther away from my desk.
• I haven't worn perfume since I gave up Samsara a decade ago, but I'm enamored with the spicy scent of my mom's Floris of London Florissa, and wear it every day. I don't know that she liked it herself, as the bottle seemed untouched compared to the others. Introduced in 1978, Florissa is described as "Crisp aldehydic topnotes with a green leafy accord introduced the classical floral heart - a rich bouquet of rose, jasmine and lily of the valley underscored by sweet hay. The harmony is balanced by the soft powdery base notes of amyris musks and mosses." Green, hay, and moss? No wonder it's appealing.

Feel:
• My legs fall asleep when I'm sitting cross-legged at Kirtan.
• The sting of cold.

Checking In

All I can seem to do lately is read and think. Which makes it hard to write. But I wanted to post this out-of-focus photo of tree branches at the Montague Book Mill and say hello. I hope you're all taking time to relax and breathe in the holiday rush.

Looking Forward

My brother Ken, J and I will be ushering in the new year in NYC, where we're headed for 4 nights after Christmas. The three of us should have time to visit lots of spots that J and I normally don't slow down enough to catch - like museums (Kandinsky at the Guggenheim! Jain manuscript paintings at The Met!). We're also going to see Fela! at the Eugene O'Neil Theater, a production described by Time Out New York as "more than a musical; it's an ecstatic phenomenon." Whoo-hoo! Bring on the ecstasy! I think we deserve it.

You Learned that Where?

Watch CBS News Videos Online

Lately I've been absorbing books on both spirituality and the science of consciousness like a giant sponge, perfectly content to curl up in a chair by the fire and read all weekend long, occasionally muttering, "wow!" and dog-earring a page I feel I have to investigate further or read again. I must admit to feeling a little nervous about the one I'm currently working through, Your Eternal Self. Yes it's received just shy of 5 stars on Amazon.com, but who's ever heard of Greater Reality Publications? And what's with the dated-looking cover design? Yet between it's covers the author, R. Craig Hogan, Ph.D, presents an amazing summary of the scientific evidence for irreducible consciousness, citing evidence from psychology, medicine, neuroscience, parapsychology, afterlife studies, etc. and he provides a cumulative (and solid) argument for his thesis.

My first dog-eared page — child prodigy Jay Greenberg, subject of the 60 Minute segment above. Savants and child prodigies are two of many arguements for a unified field of consciousness that our minds, separate from our physical brains, can tap into to gain knowledge and information — also known as non-local intelligence. Wherever one believes his gift originates from, Jay Greenberg (or "BlueJay" as he likes to be called) has been deemed "... a prodigy of the level of the greatest prodigies in history, when it comes to composition" by Samual Zyman, his professor at Julliard.

An amazing world we live in. I'll share more dog-eared discoveries as I find them.

UPDATE: This book is fantastic until Chapter 5 and then, in my opinion, loses a lot of its focus.

Enchantment

On Wednesday evening I left work and headed into the snow-covered Berkshire hills to experience a Kirtan at Kripalu Yoga in Lenox. It was my first time at the center and I found it a hive of activity — men and (mostly) women filled the dining room and hallways, the café, gift shop, and lounge areas. How many more were behind the closed doors of private offices and yoga studios I can only imagine. I wandered quietly, awkwardly carrying my winter coat in my arms, removing my tall boots and stowing them in a cubby while I waited for the sancuary doors to open. Inside I could hear a familiar voice warming up.

It's hard to express how thankful I am to have found this practice the same week I lost my mom. I attended my first Kirtan the Sunday after her services and the Thanksgiving holiday, hoping it would help center me before returning to the daily grind the next morning. As long time readers of this blog know, my 40 minute commute to and from the office can be a difficult time for me. In winter's darkness I've often found myself with a dangerous combination of too much time alone to think, and too many sad songs on my iPod. During the three year span from my mom's diagnosis to her death I filled many miles with grief, and dreaded a return to that routine of despondency. That first Sunday I bought a copy of Dave's newly released cd and played it for my commute in the morning and again at night, chanting along as I drove. Dark thoughts rose, but fell quickly away. There were no tears (at least not while driving). I listened to it all week and purchased more Kirtan music from iTunes: Ram Dass, Krishna Dass, Govinda. My commute's been radically transformed from sorrowful to soulful.

When I think about the music I've loved the most through the years, my immediate passion for chanting makes perfect sense. The Cocteau Twins, known for their nonlyrical yet emotionally gripping vocalizations; Lisa Gerrard, who like Elizabeth Fraser often sings in a language of her own invention that she's been working on since she was 12 years old; Indian dance music. When I made a brief foray into working on my own music I felt drawn to layering repetative, chant-like vocals over Middle Eastern rhythms. All of it certainly seems to have paved the way for feeling very comfortable with Kirtan.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor at Kripalu I could still hear my thoughts in the silence between chants, but they were much quieter than they were last spring when I attempted to still my mind after yoga, and they seemed to lack any negative emotional force. A child in the back of the room would babble and break the stillness (a distraction that would normally aggravate me to no end) and I was able to note it and quickly let it go. For a few seconds my thoughts seemed to stop entirely and I experienced the edges of a very unfamiliar inner stillness, at once both grounding and heady. And oddly, in the middle of one chant, I felt a sense of unexplainable happiness spreading. It wasn't overwhelming bliss, but it was a noticeable warmth. It was a start.




For further reading, check out this short piece from The Times on the growing popularity of Kirtan in the West.