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along the hudson river

In Cold Spring only a handful of people walk around at any given time. It’s a quiet town, and those living there seem to like it that way. There are a few good restaurants, a few shops and some antique stores. There’s a lovely inn by the river, and a new park, and biking and hiking paths. It reminds me of a movie set. www.coldspringliving.com/lodging.htm

Right next door to Cold Spring is Beacon. Beacon has a good mix of ethnic groups, many artists, two cafes (good coffee), speciality shops, galleries, a nice choice of eating establishments, and there’s DIA. Tourists come on the Hudson Line from Grand Central and meander over to DIA, and after DIA, board the shuttle bus (on weekends) to Main Street for eating and shopping. Some stores close on monday, tuesday and wednesday. And there’s no shuttle bus on the weekdays, but it’s an easy walk to DIA and to Main Street. www.mta.info/mnr www.diabeacon.org www.grandcentralterminal.com

If you stay long enough you tend to hear over and over that the Hudson River towns are “in the process of changing.” Change doesn’t occur quickly or easily. Newcomers arrive with their ideas and enthusiasm, and, at times, change happens. Sometimes it doesn’t and places close. Either way it seems not to matter to those who live here. They appreciate the slow pace and enjoy the way of life the towns offer. I heard that after 9/ll many people moved from Manhattan to the Hudson River towns and the Catskills. Manhattan though is ever on the move, growing differently year after year as people from all over the world decide to make “the city” their home. It’s Manhattan’s nature to be always changing while remaining vibrant. And it seems to be Beacon’s nature to just be. www.escapemaker.com/ny/beacon/beacon.html

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one to be savored

Have you been to a beautiful quiet place lately for at least two weeks without the usual kind of interruptions and entertainment? It’s soul satisfying. A place surrounded by trees, with a deer or four, wild turkey, chipmunks and birds passing by, with the sky so dark at night and stars brightly shining, and no one close enough to drop by. You’re all alone to decide how the course of the day will go. You’ve read J. Krishnamurti’s or E. Tolle’s writings, or another that teaches how to listen and observe. It’s serene. It’s enjoyable. There’s no television, radio, or ways to catch-up on the news. The news of the world is according to how it’s presented in each country. Things are not always as they seem. This being the case, we’re not exactly all on the same page. Let it go. www.jkrishnamurti.org www.eckharttolle.com

Before TV, video games, and all the things that manage to keep people in one spot for hours, life was lived outside more, and people didn’t need the medication that seems to go with today’s lifestyle. Obesity wasn’t an issue, and I doubt anyone commented on someone’s breast size, nose size or thigh size in those days. Certain things were as they were. Life was not as complicated. There were thousands of items not known at that time that are in use now, and people were fine without them. As was the environment. Tomorrow I leave. They’ll be no more mention of life in the country – at least for a while. But perhaps for you, a vacation is around the corner, and if there’s a choice to be alone, you need to know that it’s not lonely. It’s truly a delicious feeling; one to be savored.

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the storyteller

Still she thinks of herself as a poor black girl living in the south before blacks and whites mingled. I say this because her past is always with her as those times seem to be more real than present day life. Since I’ve known her it’s been that way. Some things run real deep. She’s a good storyteller, and when I look at her I can vividly imagine that little girl back then in Arkansas. The stories she tells of that time will make you laugh, though some will bring a sense of acute sadness. My childhood was in New England and those stories never reached me.

I like her style of cooking. I think it’s changed just a little from her mother’s way. She makes corn bread every week, eats the greens of the south (gave up frying, but makes every attempt to recapture that taste by vigorous sauteeing). Her mother once took her and three of her siblings on a trip north to visit family, and she talks about seeing, for the first time in her young life, whites and blacks together. You feel in the telling of this that every fiber of her body relives the shock.

She didn’t marry a black man and didn’t stay in the south. She owns a nice three-bedroom apartment in Manhattan, has a big loving heart and, has what could be called, a good life. The value of money that was instilled then holds true now. Money or no money, she’s solidly frugal. I feel that keeping those stories alive is important because many people still haven’t grasped the enormity of what happened if you were black and living in the deep south at that time. From listening to her stories, a new understanding was very gently pounded into my head during my stay with her this year. Any new insight has the potential to shed new light on other areas of life. I thank her for that and for the loving person she’s become in spite of it all.

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going, going, going?

When traveling alone in a foreigh country and you need a hand someone generally shows up. It must be an unspoken law of the universe. Someone will be by your side just when you want to scream out to the world, “HELP! I can’t read this map. The street names are driving me crazy. I can’t understand a word on a menu. And I barely remember where my hotel is because I forgot to take an address card.” Dah! It never fails that the nicest people will notice the agony on your face, and additionally, see a way to practice their English (I’ve been told it’s easy to spot an American. I’m not asking how; I don’t want to know), and Voila, you might have a guide for the day. When I’m in a tight spot in a foreign country I ask myself, “What’s the worst thing that can happen to me right now?” Perhaps I have a lack of imagination, because when I ask this question, always I see myself sleeping on a bench at the local police station.

Travel essay books give great ideas as to the what, why and how of traveling. For instance, I just finished reading PASSIONATE NOMAD The Life of FREYA STARK by Jane Fletcher Geniesse. Freya Stark was an unstoppable traveler, or after reading the book, you might say she was simply unstoppable, and her life was an exciting adventure. Travel & Leisure says of the book, “Freya Stark was one of the most intrepid adventurers of all time. . . . Jane Fletcher Geniesse brings to life this intense, original personality, and her often dangerous exploits.”

If you want to get going, but have questions, read a good travel essay book. It can give insight as to the way other travelers see the world, and other views start to unfold for you, after which you just might find youself purchasing a one-way ticket to who knows where for who knows how long.

“To awaken quite alone in a strange town is one of the pleasant sensations in the world. You are surrounded by adventure. You have no idea of what is in store for you, but you will, if you are wise and know the art of travel, let yourself go on the stream of the unknown and accept whatever comes in the spirit in which the gods may offer it.” – Freya Stark, The JOURNEYS ECHO

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they bite

Ah, yes, being in the country is a source of delight. However, there’s one aspect that isn’t a source of delight. In fact, I see no reason for its creation. Nada! The creek is beckoning to me; it needs a little clearing and tender care, and the large brown fallen leaves have to be plucked from the beautiful daffodils that have begun to bloom their bright yellow color, soggy pieces of wood with their bark pulling away are sinking into the very moist ground and need to be lifted and collected, and there are those weeds. . . . I want to do this and I want to do that, but those annoying tiny flies feel they own the creek with its clear water and simple happy sound. Those flies are very good at protecting what they think is theirs. These tiny things go right for the eyes or they hover around the face – always teasing. They get into a hat, and while I’m busy brushing off the hat, they’re busy biting me.

And now bitten and itching I wait my turn to enjoy the land. I’ve tried sneaking out in the early morning before breakfast hoping they’re taking a break. And I’ve tried not using any lotions on my body. I’ve even talked to the energy that they are, feeling that we could connect and they would understand that I have to be out there, too, unhampered by their company. Nah! Nothing works so far. Isn’t it absurd to be detained by a speck-sized something having no real power other that it bites (leaving no serious threat to its victim) and flash flies? There has to be away to get around them. There’s always a way.

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city or country?

It takes a bit of effort to let go of stuff circulating in our head- so many thoughts held onto for dear life. I’m weeding in the Catskills and have been thinking that, for the most part, what we (may I say we?) think we know comes from here, there and everywhere. I wonder what it would feel like to see life with “new eyes,” to let the old stuff go, not a shred of evidence of those former beliefs (unless they serve us well).

Being in the country where it’s quiet, getting up in the morning and seeing an abundance of daffodils in full bloom, and wild turkeys scurrying around with their silly-looking gait, and deers eating fallen apples, gives a sense of whimsical to the day.
Sometimes you got to get away from all the concrete and all the stores in the city. And sometimes you got to just surround yourself with beautiful old, sturdy, green trees, and less extravagances, for a stay in the country. Nature’s way is serene, not noisy, and it gently invites us to stay calm and enjoy what it offers, and perhaps see things with “new eyes.”

“Without great solitude, no serious work is possible.” -Pablo Picasso, Spanish painter

“We have hints that there is a way of life vastly richer and deeper than all this hurried existence. A life of unhurried serenity and peace and power. If only we could slip over into that center.” -Thomas Kelly, British educator

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the catskills

Time spent in the Catskills – so close to Manhattan, yet so far away, without newspaper, television, radio, or car is quiet time. Here it’s seven miles to the nearest town. I stay put enjoying the numerous, beautiful massive trees surrounding the house; and the woods inviting me to walk into them to explore; and the daffodils that are beginning to bloom wherever you look; and the streams of clear water gently flowing toward the Black River; and the ladybugs. The lady bugs are everywhere. During the day they’re busy. By evening they’re a shell of their former selves. “What is their life span?” I wonder to myself. It seems they’re here today and gone tomorrow.

There are old, weather-beaten wooden lawn chairs scattered around the back of the house with old worn tables to accompany them. An Adirondack chair looks comfortable in its own space with its back to the house. They beckon the onlooker with their presence. Post card pretty is what they are. They say, when seen from the kitchen window or porch, “life is real good here, find a book, bring a slice of apple pie and a cup of coffee, choose a chair and sit a spell.”

On the land is a well-designed grill made of stone. It’s very old. Actually, it’s a bit regal looking to me. It seems to sense that it fits in nicely with the land. It was probably built by a former occupant of the house-perhaps the same occupant who long ago built the lovely house. The grill has three shelves built-in for placing plates, utensils and pans. It’s a fine place for grilling and gets a lot of use. I said to myself today, “It’s a fine grill for toasting marshmallows, too.” Here the nearest neighbor is not next door. That’s okay, there’s plenty of weeding to do, and you can chat with nature while walking the wheelbarrow full of weeds to the back where someday they’ll be part of a nice bon fire. It sure is a change from life in the big city. They say change is good. I believe it.

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colin wilson

ALIEN DAWN An Investigation into the Contact Experience, by British author Colin Wilson, is a book I got for my birthday. In Chapter 1 he writes that at one time he was “totally uninterested in news items about flying saucers.” Somewhere along the way, that changed for him.

Before I began reading ALIEN DAWN, my limited UFO knowledge was based on mainstream documentaries. These documentaries have a habit of presenting the same information in different ways. ALIEN DAWN is the first UFO book I’ve read, and it was a wild ride at times. Picking up the book to read late in the evening kept me up half the night. The book is thought-provoking, and if you’re unable to turn off your mind’s switch at night, you won’t want it as a bedtime story.

Colin Wilson has a reputation for thoroughly researching a topic. Before putting pen to paper, he reads countless number of books written by writers who’ve spent years studying the subject he intends to write about. He speaks to anyone who’s well-informed on the topic, attends conferences, and willingly travels around the world for information. Some books have a way of turning our belief system upside down. This can be good; it’s a chance to get rid of stagnant information collected through time. This is the kind of book that is the reader’s gain if followed through to the end, because Colin Wilson delivers what he sets out to do. Life is fascinating. Right?

“Faith dares the soul to go further than it can see.” -William Clarke

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once called rose hill

The neighborhood east of Gramercy Park, south of Murray Hill, north of the East Village and west of the FDR Drive was once called Rose Hill. The “borders” are changing and now it’s part of the Gramercy area. Rose Hill is a pretty name, but it never really caught on. I lived there, once upon time, and always thought the neighborhood was rather nondescript. But the people living there enjoyed their quiet neighborhood. There was much less emphasis on what kind of places were there- restaurants, cafes, museums, galleries, sport clubs, etc.-entertainment wasn’t the high point. It can be an advantage when you live in Manhattan surrounded by neighborhoods just a walk away having a very different flavour.

Rose Hill (let’s call it Rose Hill for now) has more charm now than it ever did. Well, at least in my memory. There’s a busy Housing Works on 23rd Street between Lexington and Third next to the post office, and small shops with staying power line the neighborhood streets. Three hospitals are located in the area on First Avenue- the VA Hospital at 23rd Street, and heading north, Bellevue (with a complete makeover and looking good) and NYU.

Want to explore your creative side? At 209 East 23rd Street is the School of Visual Arts www.schoolofvisualarts.edu . And Baruch College www.baruch.cuny.edu , The City University of New York, is at 151 East 25th Street with a large much-needed new building across the street, the older Baruch buildings are still located on 23rd Street.

Walk to Lexington Avenue and you’ll find a nice selection of Indian stores having all the ingredients necessary to prepare an authentic Indian dish. Don’t want to cook? Check out the Indian, Japanese, French, Chinese, Italian, coffee shops, etc. and enjoy.

All things considered, it’s a good quiet neighborhood, as far as Manhattan neighborhoods go. Trains and buses are easily accessible. Want to walk? Choose your direction and in a very short time, you’ll be in Gramercy Park, Murray Hill, the East Village, Chelsea-keep walking-there’s no telling where you’ll end up.

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A fine thing

So much going on in the world; it’s an amazing place. If you watch the news it could make you think that it’s all going to pot at any moment. That’s the reason to check out the opposite views-to keep the balance. Let’s always try to remember to keep the balance, and look at the many other ways there are of viewing our world.

The description of Calcutta in The Asian Journal of THOMAS MERTON on pages 131, 132 reminds me, in a peculiar way, to keep the balance. It’s a fine book. Thomas Merton used the word “fine” a few times. It’s a word I’m going to use more often. One balancing way for me is to believe, attempt to understand and deeply know that love and compassion are powerful forces in the universe. The support of a good book, a wise person, a desperate experience that gives a better understanding of a situation – anything that allows us more clarity of our world in all its extremes – is a fine thing.

Today for me it’s these words:
“Intent is a force that exists in the universe. When sorcerers (those who live of the Source) beckon intent, it comes to them and sets up the path for attainment, which mean that sorcerers always accomplish what they set out to do.” – Carlos Casteneda, The Active Side of Infinity

“Anxiety is the mark of spiritual insecurity.” – Thomas Merton

As soon as you trust yourself, you will know how to live. – Goethe