spring evening

One evening last week Timon and I went for a walk at the nearby rockefeller state park.

kitty in the window movie

Click on the movie to watch...

afternoon in the park

Last weekend Ti, Josh and I met Allen and friends in Central Park for some wine and frisbee in the sun.



That is a giant butterfly kite in the air beside Allen.

our little village

We moved out of the West Village, Manhattan, in November last year, right as the leaves were falling off the trees. In fact, as we made our shuttles back and forth, moving from the city to the suburbs it was pretty much the only time we could really appreciate the incredible scenery, the oversized tri-colored flames that were trees. Quickly it turned to a mild winter, and then, slowly this year, steel dullness set in. Luckily we curled up with our new fireplace in the oversized living room, and we enjoyed our new life. But sometimes when I returned to the city I wondered if it was the right decision to leave. We left mostly to be a tiny bit more immersed in nature, and there we were trekking into the city for some sign of life amidst the invisible half-city/half-nature that is suburbia.



And now its spring. And its blowing my mind. I realize that most likely every human being on the planet who has access to spring, who lives through the winter, probably thinks this same thought. I like that we all physically experience the days growing longer, the warm breezes, the buds on the trees popping out. And while I love the city, I am having an awakening out here in the suburbs. Its the first time in six years that I've not lived enmeshed in the stories of the cities.

first camping trip of 2006

Beneath the fine veneer of late evening spring sunshine slanting through the pine trees, you probably first notice how handsome my camping partner is. You might then imagine to yourself how delicious that beer is tasting after setting up the tent, dragging some firewood over, restacking the stone firepit, and spending a leisurely hour sitting along the banks of a spring peeper filled pond drinking some very fine tequila. And then you can also draw on your own outdoorsy experience to know how the rest of the evening went as it got dark, and more beer and tequila is consumed, getting chillier by the half hour, until by 10pm one is comfortably snuggled next to the perfect camping companion, toasty and toasted, and toasting marshmallows and eating them with glee. After the roasted-red pepper chicken sausage and potato chips that is. And then the best part, waking up in the morning and looking up at the tall pine trees catching early sun, wriggling into layers of clothes, and smelling the fire and the sap, the dirt and the pond. Yes, camping, idyllic.

BUT

You are not me, you can thank your lucky stars. You don't have to imagine the aftermath of the first camping trip of the year. You don't wake up two mornings later realizing that the tiny itchy bug bite on your wrist in fact was not a bug bite, but is tragically, POISON IVY. And the frightening knowledge that poison ivy seems to take over my skin. First, boils develop on the skin at the site of contact - contact not with those shiny, waxy, three leaved vines, but contact with a piece of dried wood that sometime 6 months ago was brushed by a deer who 2 weeks prior grazed a scrap of leaf that was knocked by a squirrel and then fell from that vine and laid buried in the decomposing forest floor. It is six degrees of separation indeed. After the boils, random sites of itchy hell develop first on my waist, then my thighs, then my legs, and four days later, show up on MY ASS. fuck if nature ain't a bitch.

Then the trip to the doctor to get 4mg doses of steroids, which 3 days later aren't doing a thing, which prompts a quick trip to the emergency room to get 40mg doses for the next two weeks. This compiled with a very strong antihistamine that is probably barely legally prescriped, for soon after ingestion I encounter the fog wherein I cannot operate heavy machinery. Combined with the uppers of steroids I found myself riding home in the car a week later with camping partner safely driving while I'm blasted to all hell listening to the new Yeah Yeah Yeahs albumn at ungodly volume, quivering with enormous pupils and thinking, "Ahhh, camping. Can't wait to go again next weekend."

the kitties and the fish

wedding in seven weeks

A wedding isn't a terribly big deal for Timon and I, since we already got married last August, at city hall in New York. Prior to that, we had a very successful honeymoon. I'd been saying fairly regularly over the past few years, "Oh, lets get married!" to Timon. But before that could make any sense, we both felt, for different reasons perhaps, that it was important to make sure that we would be able to change together, to become new people, explore new aspects of ourselves, and that hopefully, but not definitely, our partner would not only accept, but encourage this growth and development. And furthermore, that our partner might too change and grow.

I realize now that this intense desire to change our lives, externally first followed by the internal realizations, lies on a fundamental bedrock assumption that change is always positive, that who we are becoming will always be closer to our true selves, a more honest, bright, stripped-down-to-essentials seat from which we observe life. This doesn't mean that the future will always be pleasant, or obviously good. Rather, it is the most difficult events that I want to be sure of, that I will have the inner resources to face pain and suffering, both my own and others, and to at least learn something from this pain, since its here. Once I accepted that basic premise, when I was 18 or so, that yeah, life fucking sucks a lot, for everyone, everyone, I began to get a little curious about what else was going on within this suffering. There are other things to know, but one never goes for very long before being reminded, oops, that hurts, don't it.

Anyway, what I want in a partner is someone to help with the process of exploration, who also wants above all else, to really know what's going on, and who also has the self-awareness to live with what we find.

So Timon and I felt pretty sure that we each at least have the intense desire to know what being alive is about, and then also a kind of cockiness that we can survive learning it. But still, before we could get married I think we both felt that we needed to go through something intense together to see how the relationship held up, did the relationship also yearn to explore and grow, did our partner want to know for themselves? That is so the key point, that the other person wants, needs, and will go through with life's experiences whether or not the partner is there with them. We aren't so dumb as to go searching for pain, oh no, that comes plenty on its own in much more creative ways than I could presume. In my experience there are two ways to have controlled out-of-control experiences. Hallucinatory drugs, and travel. Both throw you into varying degrees (depending on the amount of the drug and the country) of utterly strange and unfamiliar situations, and then you get to observe first hand what you're made of. So being of the healthier persuation, Timon and finally had the opportunity to spend 3 months in Tibet.

Up and moving to another place for a fairly significant amount of time was something we both wanted, being curious people, and it also was an unspoken test of "us". That blog can be found here. What I discovered: that Timon and I love so many of the same things, want the same experiences. That we both love camping in harsh conditions for weeks at a time. That we both don't mind being dirty or eating the same freaking meal for 14 days in a row, often twice a day, if it means being out in the world. That we don't assume poverty=misery or money=happiness, but that all four of these things are intricately related in subtle but vital webs. Also, and most important and clear very immediately, I realized that our essential dynamic was so much the same in Tibet as in New York that at first I felt a teeny bit disappointed, followed by a kind of awe. Our relationship, as it stood distinct from either of our individual selves, was alive and functioning whether or not we thought we were in control of it! I'd only ever found that kind of reliance on myself before - as I traveled and lived and changed my external circumstances, I found that a part of me was constant and was in fact very very reliable, despite my inability to articulate it. To suddenly discover that something else in this world held a crumb, a pinpoint (but so very bright a pinpoint!) of reliability is a marvel to me.

So with this knowlege in tow, we returned from our summer abroad to Manhattan, lovely Manhattan with its incredible food and outrageous expenses, and within three days we took a cab to city hall with Josh (it could be no other) and suddenly we were married, and it was August, and I was 27 and giddy with delight. What a pleasure to try on my new identity in a city who will take you however you are, a city that adapts to your life changes faster than you can, to a city that embraces every day as a new evolution in your relationship to the world. And then we told our families, and then we moved to Westchester to be a teeny bit closer to nature, and then we planned a party.

And now that we're married, I still feel great delight in saying, "Oh, lets get married!" to Timon, to somehow express that momentary awareness that all is well with us, and lets just sail off together somewhere new and adventurous, partners. Marriage is an adventure, or rather, life is an adventure, and marriage is having a good first mate to share the details with.

And now I'm getting more settled into the wedding idea, envisioning myself unstressed and relaxed and throwing a good weekend gathering where people are young (at least youthful!) yet adult, sophisticated and laid back. I'm feeling that I can pull the hostessing bit off. Funny, but my clothes are what really let me feel settled. I can just put on my costume of casual classy new england beach wear, and then I can play the role easily. I guess my mom being a drama therapist is paying off.

beach trip in march

timon and i took a trip out to jones beach a couple weeks ago. click on the video to see.