A Town of Artists

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“My Sweet Lord” played as the sun and plane descended in New York tonight. There are blissful moments when the right song comes on at just the right moment. Opting for the aisle this flight, I peered out the window to see the technicolor sun setting into the horizon.

Sun rises and sun sets continue to fill me with awe. Occasionally there’s a burst of color to signify the bookends of the day and I pause. Often I lose gratitude for each singular day focusing on what’s to happen tomorrow.I took a few moments tonight to wander and snap photos of my hotel and it’s surrounding blocks. The streets were wet from recent rain giving the perfect sheen to the otherwise dull pavement.

Perhaps it’s my new daily routine of meditating or being in a different city, but I was able to observe the new surroundings: seeing the stop lights glimmer off the street, taste the bitterness of broccoli rabe, listening to the din of a bustling restaurant, smell the clean linens of a hotel bed., question the suggestive imagery in the Rorschach-esque painting in my room.

During previous visits I found New York overstimulating. Tonight I saw how New York is a town for artists. It’s easy to see why.