Retreating from the City
I was lucky enough to take time off from work just as spring seems to be rounding the corner in New York. I decided to take a trip up to visit Dia Beacon in Hudson Valley, approximately 50 miles outside of the city. I find myself constantly at a paradox in New York City. On one hand, I can’t get enough of it and on the other hand I’m anxious for a reprieve. I was happy to leave for a quick day trip to recharge. Here are some observations I had:
Initially stressed about the logistics and navigating a new transportation system
As a disciplined planner, I made sure to give myself enough time to walk to the subway, hop on a subway to Grand Central, give time for tickets, find the right track, and board the hourly Hudson line Metro North train for Beacon. I couldn’t help but feel a bit anxious as I took the subway, worrying that one small delay could cause a much larger delay if I missed the hourly train out of the city. Furthermore, I’ve never purchased tickets for the Metro North nor taken a train from Grand Central (a modestly intimidating building and Monday morning throng of commuters). I distinctly remember the first nerve racking time taking public transportation in various cities. However, each of this intimidating memories gives way to eventual confidence as you master a city’s transportation system.
Everything turned out fine, and I was able to board the train with time to spare. This morning made me reflect on if I’m more of a Type A or Type B person. This topic has been a recurring theme in my therapy sessions; how I relish both diligent planning and freely going with the flow. I’m always interested in which side of me responds in various scenarios. Sometimes I find myself stressed over menial details like the best subway to take to have enough time to purchase a ticket on the other side, or I find myself able to simply shrug and continue with the next thing in my life.
Do you ever find yourself thinking about what causes different sides of you to come out?
A calm transition riding the train helps set the stage:
The smooth scenic train ride out of Manhattan quickly soothed my initial stress from the morning commute. Nothing of importance happened on the 90 minute train ride up the Hudson, but it felt essential to set the stage of distance away from the city. Having commuted an hour to get to high school, and traveling by plane to a new city and back each week before covid as a consultant, I’ve come to see the transitionary periods to hold significance beyond their surface value. A quiet moment in between cities, places, meetings, modes of thinking, people, and memories can go a long way. Whether it’s reflecting on where you came from, where you are going to, or just letting your mind wander, these in between moments help me feel level set and grounded. For my trip to Beacon, the quiet train ride helped tee up the upcoming grand museum visit.
What seemingly insignificant moments mean something to you?
Surrendering to the grand sculptures in Dia Beacon
The immense museum fit perfectly into my day of calm retreat. The simple grandeur of the building housing works from Warhol, Donald Judd, On Kawasaki, Mary Corse, Dan Flavin, Louise Lawler, and more. I became increasingly aware of my footsteps as each step echoed in the large rooms and creaked on the aged wooden flooring. Having come from the crowded Manhattan, I wandered the large galleries with reverence, appreciating how I didn’t need to jostle for space or worry about holding anyone up.
Experiencing a different type of white noise
On a walk by the river, I came across one lone tree that still had it’s browned leaves attached. Every other tree had fully shed its foliage. I am constantly jarred in Manhattan; horns honking abruptly, people exclaiming next to me, sirens wailing by. At the park by the river the wind sailed through the air and rattled the leaves beautifully, creating a rush of beautiful white noise by the river. Occasionally I’ve taken to playing white noise to help me sleep at night. But feeling the experiential noise under a full sun and jacket as it hadn’t reached 50 degrees felt different. I’m surprised that a dead-looking tree could help me feel more in tune with my experiential body.
Where do you find yourself most in-tune with your body?
Reinvigorated to Return
Despite the overwhelming calming feelings from my trip, I couldn’t help but feel excited to return to Manhattan. Again as a consultant on the road constantly (before covid), I found my appreciation for home grew the more I was away from it. The quiet main street in Beacon was quaint and perfect, but I couldn’t stay here forever. Impossibly, the jostling crowds, aggressive walking, and crammed apartments that I despise are calling me home.
Whenever I plan for travel, I plan for the destination. I map out what I want to see, make sure to tick off all the boxes and get my fill. But if anything, I’ve found that travel is more about where you return to.
How to you resume your life with new perspectives, energy, and intent?