It was as if I was meeting a former lover. Meeting each other again on different terms, and yet remembering the parts that we loved about each other, while not forgetting the reasons we split. When I ended the relationship, I had lost sight of the good, that much was clear. Did we stand a second chance?
I felt the memory of who I was alongside who I had become. All of it was reflected back to me in our encounter. I had the capacity in my nervous system to hold the wholeness of myself, my responsibility in our downfall, and the truth that I could not see before. Before I was in survival mode, scanning for threats, writing a story about my experience that kept me guarded and small. Now, I could see the spectrum of experience, light and dark, opportunity, abundance, possibility, everything swirling in the air. I was seeing the old with new lenses, lenses colored by travel, by healing, and by time apart.
New York, I love you. I didn't tell you that enough before I left.
When I left New York I was struggling.
Clara Ritger
The story of how I knew it was time to leave New York in search of greener pastures.
I left rather abruptly, without much forewarning to most people who knew me. My lease was up so I moved out of my apartment the same month I had eye surgery, just as I was starting a new (remote) contract, which had me working long hours while I bounced around the U.S. saying goodbye to friends and family before getting on a plane to Africa, no return date in sight. I was ready to get out of New York and to get out of the U.S. I was ready to break free of the doldrum of a life that felt predictable, suffocating, and hopeless at the same time.
When I returned, I had changed, but New York hadn't. Now that I was not so focused on myself, I could see the truth and contradictions of life in New York that I hadn't seen before. I landed at Laguardia Airport – an airport I had flown in and out of with some regularity while traveling for work – and I was shocked by how fancy it was. Everyone in the airport looked rich. Even the working class people on the Subway were well-dressed. I noticed immediately the diversity that most of the other spaces I traveled through lacked. And the money. New York drips with money.
And then I started catching up with friends. Friends who seemed hardened. Who I could see now were struggling, and maybe they always were, I just couldn't see it when I was struggling too. Life in New York is hard, no doubt, and maybe you must harden to survive. Existing in this city is hard and annoying and frustrating. New York is a place where carrying heavy things is normal, like carrying heavy bags of groceries on the subway, and then trudging down many blocks home, while everything around you is intense and loud. But I didn't just mean carrying the things that are visible.
At the grocery store, a waspy older woman played bumper cars with my cart, asserting her space in the commotion of the cramped aisles. (This is the New York version of Trader Joe's chaotic parking lots: aisles so thin that they become one-way streets.) At checkout, I tried to look my cashier in the eyes and wish him well. They were two blue puddles that had been stepped in all day, and they were surprised to be looked at.
Okay, one good thing for today, I thought. I did one good thing.
I had dinner at an old haunt where the burger was as good as I remembered it and the fries were worse. I stumbled into a popup house music set on the walk home.
I feel like I am being sucked back into the vortex of energy that is New York City.
Is there still more of my story to write here? Or am I getting closure on the story that I didn't finish before?
I had lost sight of the beauty that this place is. The whole universe is here, anything that you want to do, any person you want to meet, it's here, in New York City. It's magnetic. I did not expect to have this experience.
I am in New York. I am alive. And what a time it is to be in New York, and alive.
"Little girl, you came back."
My face lit up and tears came to my eyes. I had forgotten that she called me that. It felt so nice to be remembered. And to know that she had missed me too.
A year and a half had passed since I tumultuously left New York, but it had been four and a half years since I'd seen her.
To be honest, I wasn't even sure if she was alive.
Adventure to Awaken is now publishing twice-a-month! Once-a-month, a portion of the post will be paywalled, and you can get access to the full post by upgrading to a paid subscription for only $6/month or $60/year. This will also get you access to our monthly community call, with discussions about the recent newsletter topics, reflections from your own life, and guided meditation & somatic practices. Our next call is Sunday, October 18, and we'd love to have you join!
