Most magicians are masters of making things appear and disappear.
By this definition, time spent with New Yorkers last week felt like real magic to me.
I loved spending days outside in Washington Square Park, chatting up musicians, reading, watching dogs, playing pick-up games of basketball, talking on benches with kids on spring break, and listening to conversations in languages I didn't understand.
I met a woman sitting by the fountain one day, and we shared our anxiety about the state of the world. We talked a bit, and in doing so, I felt my own pain ease.
Magic.
One afternoon, I got turned around. I met a man named Cyrus who saw me looking lost and pointed me not only in the right direction, but also to the best pizza in his neighborhood. (It’s on Bleeker in the village, by the way). I never would have found it without him.
Magic.
I could give a dozen examples of how small brushes with a stranger made us both feel seen and connected. It was magical to me. And it wasn’t done by sleight of hand: it was done by candor of heart. I think New Yorkers get a bum rap. Yeah they’re direct. But they also understand they’re all on that island together. I’ve never seen such clean streets and honest desire to connect and help one another. It felt great.
I’m taking the feeling with me back to Illinois.
Reader, I think we’re all meant to bump into each other more in the real world. As an introvert, I tend to believe I need lots of time alone. And I do enjoy it. But I think we all need a little Manhattan in our lives. Wishing you a week of real-world-care-free-run-ins with like-minded (but more importantly, like-hearted) folks. See you next Monday. -Em
