Let it heal us.
Dec. 11th, 2011 11:18 pmI hit up Bedford Avenue yesterday, for the usual coffee and shop-hopping that happens when I go over there. Since I'd gone alone I didn't feel too much pressure to get back to Manhattan early, or really go anywhere else, so I made a turn onto a street I'd never walked on before and headed as far West as I could. Which was all the way down to the water. There's a little park out there I didn't even know about until I saw it, this tiny dot of green grass and open space waiting patiently for people to visit. It waited so well, I'm going to have to go back sometime. Hopefully on a warmer day when I can lie on the grass.
I did get to do some quality beachcombing. The little stretch of coastline has an even smaller stretch of sandy beach held in place by rocks, and bits of glass and plastic and ceramic get tossed up to tumble and mingle and smooth their edges out. Pretty much the first piece I found was a bit of ceramic with some thin blue lines on it, leftover from some larger picture, and I took that as a good sign there was more to find. And I did, going a little farther down each time and keeping the sun to my back to stop it from getting in my eyes. Keeping the sun at my back and going south-to-north on the beach, following the river, also gave me the advantage of having the sun shine off the glass, making it that much easier for me to find. I went down on three trips, looking up to the sky and out to the water, and just being amazed at how real this little spot was.
It reminded me of the best parts of the other cities I've lived in. The train tracks and cobblestones were still there, and the little wooden play structures for kids were sized just right and a good mix of shapes and forms, and the distance and light to the Manhattan skyline made it better to look at than any other time I've seen it. The quality of light in late afternoon in winter, on cold, sharp days without any clouds and slow winds, is a very open, raw light. When I looked up at the last leaves hanging on against the stark blue sky, it made me feel more at home, more settled inside myself, than I've felt in a long time.
The space wasn't wild, or even feral. It was just someplace that was left open to the water and the sky, and it's easy to forget those things when I never see them. It makes them all the more powerful when I do see them again.
I did get to do some quality beachcombing. The little stretch of coastline has an even smaller stretch of sandy beach held in place by rocks, and bits of glass and plastic and ceramic get tossed up to tumble and mingle and smooth their edges out. Pretty much the first piece I found was a bit of ceramic with some thin blue lines on it, leftover from some larger picture, and I took that as a good sign there was more to find. And I did, going a little farther down each time and keeping the sun to my back to stop it from getting in my eyes. Keeping the sun at my back and going south-to-north on the beach, following the river, also gave me the advantage of having the sun shine off the glass, making it that much easier for me to find. I went down on three trips, looking up to the sky and out to the water, and just being amazed at how real this little spot was.
It reminded me of the best parts of the other cities I've lived in. The train tracks and cobblestones were still there, and the little wooden play structures for kids were sized just right and a good mix of shapes and forms, and the distance and light to the Manhattan skyline made it better to look at than any other time I've seen it. The quality of light in late afternoon in winter, on cold, sharp days without any clouds and slow winds, is a very open, raw light. When I looked up at the last leaves hanging on against the stark blue sky, it made me feel more at home, more settled inside myself, than I've felt in a long time.
The space wasn't wild, or even feral. It was just someplace that was left open to the water and the sky, and it's easy to forget those things when I never see them. It makes them all the more powerful when I do see them again.
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