Midwestern evening

Family seems like something that is more than the sum of its parts.  The moment to moment requirements of taking care of others, or of accommodating them, is much less, sometimes coming in the negative scores, than the good that comes of having the connection with others.  Life in New York is aligned with certain values, and it can be hard to remember the values of having family and being around family.  Maybe less glamorous, maybe more work, but so rewarding to have others with whom to share life.  And with whom to exchange the caring responsibilities, to have them looking out for you, too. 

So now, after a wonderful two days with our grandmother, but time that was not without its challenges; after playing with my nephew that cries before bed and when he is hungry; we are sitting, watching a ballgame on tv, enjoying the talent of the Reds and the Cubs as the miraculous Midwest sky threatens rain, or storms, or clear skies, or a beautiful sunset.  

Waverly, OH

And now in Waverly, Ohio.  For me this is one of the scariest places I know, despite being in idyllic Southeast, OH.  The combination of small town, high drug addiction prevalence, low surveillance, and boredom makes me uneasy.  It's just a little too quiet here and I miss New York.

That being said, it's good to see my grandmother and have the chance to spend time with her.  And also with my mother and Andrew.  We listen to her talk a fair amount, show pictures to her, sorted her clothes, and even made her some scrambled eggs that she can reheat for a breakfast tomorrow morning.  It's her birthday tomorrow, 93 years old.  

And now to face the most silent of silences.  Waverly, OH at night.....

Home

It's so nice to be home, surrounded by family.  I saw my grandfather this afternoon, and tomorrow will go to visit my grandmother.  Enjoying the time and space to be around people.  

Every so often

Depression is another side of life and living.  It is another reality, though not one that I experience often anymore.  But sometimes it is there, and I remember a way of seeing the world that is more stark, more colorful, more tender, more unforgiving, more compassionate to others.

It is an unsettling thing, as a woman, that these feelings can emerge.  And I imagine it is just as unsettling, and also somewhat foreign, for a man to be witness and subject to it.  I suppose the advantage for a woman is to become more aware of the subjectivity of life perspective.  We are all capable of this, but I think woman may have a built-in biological method that helps them face it frequently.   Of course, there are disadvantages, which we highlight often.  But how beautiful to be able to look at the world in a very different way from one day to the next.  Initially a magical and frightening happening in life, and then understood, if not controllable.  And how beautiful to have some understanding of something that is outside of one's control.

Sometimes I come across feminist articles.  Last night I read one about mothers who regret become so.  There was a clear distinction made between their wish that they had not had children and their very real love for their children.  It was not that they did not love them, but just that the job of motherhood itself is a very difficult and often thankless one, which often requires a great deal of selflessness.

There are many other ways to express feminism beyond the idea that we are not just baby-making machines.  Equal rights, equal pay, the way people speak about women, etc.  But rarely, if ever, have I heard a form of feminism that celebrates women in a way devoid of their male counterparts.   We are always compared to and with them, either in a sense of injustice, or in some way to prove our worth in more realms.

Sometimes in my quiet moments that do occur every so often, I am deviantly thankful for this internal gift that seems such a burden.  It is not necessarily a happy gift, but certainly one that opens my eyes in new ways.

N.S.

One of my students has such an advanced ability for self-critique at the age of 7.  She is perfection oriented and the sun doesn't shine when she knows it could be better, when she compares her current output to what she thinks she should be doing.  And for me as a teacher, it is a challenge to be in front of her seeing eyes, that everything I might offer is a comment on her playing and on her personally.  I've thought to put more love into the lessons, to make it less about the cello and rights and wrongs.  And now I'm thinking to take her seriousness very seriously, to meet her where she is, and give her that full respect.  But she is young and I don't want to go down a hole that is not yet supported by years of resilience.

I really love her, though.  How hard it must be to be a parent and feel such love for your child, in a way they cannot fully understand, because how can one love themselves in such a way?  How can a child understand how loved they are, despite all the flaws they see in themselves?  How does one help them know it?

Upon Return

What are the measurements of love?  What is its quantity and quality?  If it had a unit what would it be, how dense, how effervescent?  How much can be packed into 3 days; and then in 3 hours after such a time apart?  Can it surround us, or come through us?  And how does this effect its measure?

Summer Music Camp

This is like summer music camp all over.  It's just much shorter, and there isn't any sort of awkward romantic situations, or excess alcohol.  So maybe it isn't like summer camp at all.  Except that it is really revitalizing.  In my teaching are the voices of some of the artist I remember working with at those camps, even though I was much older and working on serious string quartet repertoire.  But those words and sentiments are channeled to these young children, the thrill of playing the early Suzuki song Allegro because it has so many characters, and allowing that to be the most important part of playing it.  Yes I can give technical advice, but my voice in this setting is allowed to be poetic before saying goodbye to them and sending them back to the daily work.  I know the other reality of daily work; but then what reality is real but the one we practice?  If we practice fresh interactions, perhaps our relation with the world will always be new.

The other teachers here are also wonderful to interact with.  There are many different ideas and approaches to take with me, and this is such a small sampling of what they might be able to offer.  This is a small workshop and only 3 days long.  Perfect for me now.  But an exciting taste of the discoveries of something longer with more students and more teachers with whom to interact.  

And we got to play a concert this evening.  It's been awhile since I've rehearsed or performed chamber music and again, this was a very small slice but a beautiful one.  I love chamber music in a very special way.  And to listen to a colleague play Beethoven before I played the Swan was, as often happens when I listen to Beethoven, an opportunity to fall in love with life, so that saying goodbye to it in my own performance of the Swan was all the more poignant.  

One of my suite-mates in the dorm here is an Alexander teacher and offered to give me a lesson.  So I got to experience this incredible work for the first time, having my body moved by an experienced practitioner, guiding me to release tension that he could feel in his hands that I was not yet aware of.  An inspiration to pick up this work and Feldenkrais again in the coming year.  

We get to a place where we must keep generating our own discoveries.  As I watched the other teachers on stage, reading their bios between performances, I realized that we are no longer at the summer music camps of our youth where our teachers were guiding us to find the soul of the music we played alone and with others, or where we stressed over bow strokes and vibrato.  We are past that, even though we are not.  We must teach it, and to teach it, it must grow within us.  And so we have to feed it something from which it can be sustained.  It is through colleagues, through chamber music, through conversations and sharing, through touching, through making music with students and with one another, through hearing our own words and actions share what we think is of value.  These are the fertile grounds of rebirth within and the ability to pass it on to others to one day do the same.  

Bethlehem, PA

Bethlehem, PA.  It's my first time here.  Teaching at a Suzuki workshop, meeting lots of new young cellists and new seasoned teachers, getting to come into contact with lots of new ideas.  It's really refreshing and fun to have all the sharing going on.  

Riding Hills

Riding up a hill of stress means a wonderful release afterwards.  And more growth to take on more and bigger hills in the future.  After the morning of teaching in a somewhat unfamiliar class, and getting the job (even though it wasn't observed...) I now feel stronger to take on a weekend of unfamiliar teaching.  How will I feel on Monday?  These are the things that make us stronger.

More importantly, how do I teach this to my students?  How do I teach them the love of doing something slightly more than you think you are capable?  I suppose I'm still learning it.  And I suppose some of it comes from the successes that come afterwards.  Somehow pacing the demand and the reward, or making the demand much greater, but not evaluating too closely the outcome, so as to avoid scrutiny.

And perhaps showing them their growth.  In some way to point out the distance covered.  Or perhaps to help them cover it in a single class or lesson, to reflect on what they have learned and the terrain they have passed through.

Perhaps that can be another thing that I bring to my students this weekend.  I'm looking forward to meeting them....

Things are Things, People are People

A student of mine accidentally bumped my end pin causing my cello to fall and cracking the bridge.  I was pretty upset but did my best not to show him.  It wasn't until after the lesson that I had an opportunity to share with him the importance of being more careful, based on his handling of his own instrument.  There seemed little benefit to allowing my emotions to fall onto him at the beginning of our lesson and to take a punitive tone throughout.

Unfortunately, he can be a somewhat careless kid, and I imagine other things like this have happened to him before.  I also remember, not a concrete instance, but the feeling of guilt and upset from having caused some similar offense.  My body did something that I wouldn't have chosen it to do, had I only understood what that meant.  But why give him these feelings.  It won't put my cello back together and it won't make him a more graceful person.  If anything "positive" would come of that approach, it would be that he would stifle himself from fear and keep his body suppressed under his control.  Maybe more cellos would be happy, but I think something more would be lost.

I think he listened better to my words at the end of the lesson, after 30 minutes of good work and a (I hope) more positive tone.  It is not him personally that I was speaking to, but his behavior, and the goal that we be more careful.

New Teaching Opportunities

I enjoy when I make mistakes learning something new.  At least when I know I can go back and work on them.  They indicate places of maximal potential, and signal new growth mentally and physically.  On a larger scale, I'm still coming to terms with periods of stress where several new things are occurring at once and I'm not sure what to expect from them.  I would like to see them as preparation for another opportunity, even if that isn't immediately present.  I'd like to be able to playfully interact with them as moments of growth.  I'd like to be interested in fully preparing for them out of curiosity and love, rather than fear.

So maybe I'll keep that in mind and go forward, and just be open to seeing what happens.

Downpour

At the downpour this afternoon, we had to pause our lesson to absorb the power of nature.  I could see in her younger brother's face (also one of my students) that he was a little afraid.  His mother said, we are safe here, and I saw him relax a little bit.  Her phone buzzed with flash flood warnings, and once again she assured him that this was not for where we live.  He went to the window to stare out at the gusts of rain.  Dropped on us like a bucket, the Japanese phrase that they knew and shared about such a crackingof the clouds.   As much as I wanted to continue our work on straight bows and good tone, I knew there was no way it would happening the next minute or so, or without some sort of transition.  And why should it?  One day I hope she and he remember the power of the rain and the wind while they are working on a bow stroke, hoping to evoke the immensity of nature in a way that we are not entitled to.  I would not want to rob them of this awe.  I only hope they can find it for longer and longer in their lives, the despite a growing trust in our fortified buildings.    

Back to NYC

It was the last day of cousins and farms.  We started the day with breakfast on the outdoor porch and then went for a short but intense hike on Canaan Mountain, property that the family owns.  Without a clear path down, we skidded through the brush, ferns, mossy rocks, and dried leaves on a steep descent down.  We said our final goodbyes, acquiring a dozen green eggs from one of our stops, and got on the train back to NYC.  

And now we are home, facing life as usual, looking into a week of work as gracefully as we can bring the past few days to inform it.

Cousins and Farms

It was another full day of cousins and farms in Connecticut.  We started by going to Laura's home, for breakfast, green eggs from her chickens, and pancakes.  We returned later in the day when we heard that her pea chicks had hatched and we wanted to see them; we also fed her draft horses and alpaca while we were there.  And then we headed to her cousins dairy farm for a complete tour of the robotic milking machines.  The cows step into the machine, and the machine has a computerized record of the cow, cleans her, hooks up to her, milks her, and check the milk and flow for safety and health inspections.  We learned a lot about cows, how they sleep, eat, and what makes them happy or unhappy, all towards the goal of more and better milk.  At the same place we saw the factory where these same cousins make cow pots out of the manure for wide distribution, and the machinery they designed and created to do it.  And the farm store with many oddities, and delicious baked goods, and many, many flowers....

And then to the "campsite" which I finally learned is closer to being a small town of seasonal campers than a piece of land with tents.  Most are hook-ups and people will stay for the summer.  Sometimes there are as many as 3,000 people staying there.  And tonight there was a special memorial service for the man that started the campground on his farm, the reason that we are visiting.  We learned of his impact in this community of people, and made a more complete picture of the whole huge family that lives in this part of the world.  

And to finish it off, another large family gathering at the home of one of the cousins, the ones with lots of patio and dining room room space.

Tomorrow a hike and then back to the city....

East Canaan, CT

We got up early and walked to the train station in Philadelphia.  We took PA transit to Trenton and then NJ transit to NYC and then short subway ride to catch a Metro North line in Grand Centra to get up to CT.  In Waterbury, we met with Andrew's family, who drove us another hour to East Canaan, where Mark's cousins have several farm properties and related operations.

I'm still getting to know all the family connections and all that they are capable of doing.  But a surprise group of guests to one of their beautiful homes didn't phase them and the table was extended to accommodate 20, the kitchen filled with more and more people carrying fresh produce from their farms, freshly made pies, and capably commandeering the incoming goods into a feast for everyone.  There was even homemade ice cream for dessert.

They are related in different ways, different sets of cousins connected by marriage or siblings.  They have a camp ground, a dairy facility (that I believe we will see tomorrow), a catering company and greenhouse, a collection of animals (llamas, alpaca, peacocks....).  How strange it feels to not know where my food comes, not be capable in the ways that these people are.  

Tomorrow we will see more of this place, the homes of these people, and continue to piece it all together.

High above rivers (Philadelphia Day 1)

We started with a bike ride up Fairmont Park and into Laurel Hill Cemetery, which was beautiful, along the river, and above it.  And then Whole Foods for breakfast/lunch, and a stop in the Eastern State Penitentiary.  We went back into the city center and fumbled around with which patriotic site we should see before settling on the Constitution Center, which was an incredible museum examining the Constitution and the court cases that have interacted with it throughout history.  It was incredible to see the current trends set up in the struggles of the founding fathers.  We walked to Elfreth's Alley, dinner on a pier, and then halfway across the Benjamin Franklin Bridge for a look back to the skyline, high above the Delaware River.  And then back to Market Street to the Franklin Fountain, ice cream.  

Our last night in Philadelphia, a lovely urban break from our own urban jungle...

Philadelphia Day 1

We are in the city of brotherly love.  Cities are wonderful.  It's great to be able to get around on public transportation, to see beautiful art in museums and graffiti on the bricks of bridges.  We came on a slow train that even went backwards are some point, and yet we still got here in time to check out the Independence Hall area, the Philadelphia History Museum, walk by City Hall by way of a lunch at the Reading Terminal Market, stop in our AirBnB, hit the Art Museum, Whole Foods (our go to for a great date), and made it to a baseball game.  Phillies got crushed by the Red Sox....

Cities are wonderful for all these things that are possible in one day (and more), but there are differences between them.  I find myself wondering what it is about New York that I might prefer or what I might find more comfortable in Philadephia.  Certainly it is easier to get a seat here.  

But there is something unsettling that I'm still trying to pinpoint and the closest that I have come to it has to do with diversity.  New York is far more diverse, and the differences in the people here fall to a familiar line from my childhood of black and white.  And that is a much more personal line to be involved with. In New York, it is easier to hide the injustice behind the myriad ways it is dispersed.  There is such a large immigrant class that is working hard to make it, we can look past the idea of have and have not.  Maybe we think that there is some evolution to it through generations or through hard work.  But here, the years of wear are evident.  And when someone asks for money, it feels more personal, something unresolved from a past I never lived, but that my blood did.  New York makes it much easier to look away.  I am not connected to the struggles I hear of there.  They are new and old and ever changing stories.  Here they are stale and familiar.  

I'm sure there are other reasons that I still find myself loving loving New York.  But this one struck me today and I hope will stay with me as I return to the Big Apple.  Perhaps I will be able to see all differences more equally.  Or maybe at the very least, I will see them in a new way.

Singed

Summer lessons. There are still some days that are very full of students and yet somehow it seems so much more free.  Perhaps it's the days off in between them.  But also I think there is a change in the attitude.  Summer lessons are bonus lessons.  They aren't a part of the normal package that families sign up for at the beginning of the year.  There is no true obligation on my or their part to undertake them.  They are being done for the sake of progress, discovery, or at the very minimally explained, commitment.  We are working toward a recital at some point in the future, but for now there are open skies between us and the next lesson.

It makes me wonder about the winter attitude.  It seems to be more one of working, goal-oriented, outcome driven.  There is a feeling of having to keep up with something, of fulfilling an obligation to something or someone, even if it is to oneself.

But what if all life were a bonus round?  We could look upon everyday, success or failure, as something that might not have been, something not felt, something not seen, something unshared.  In all the possibilities of the world, there is one in which we might not be here, either from what brought us here not having been, or a continuation not continuing.  We are here by some grace, whatever we might call or experience it to be.  Not by obligation.  What goal is there to fulfill?  

But just as I forget the miraculous opening of leaves in the spring, or their golden falling, or the solace of solitude, the pruning of winter, I will forget this hot-sunned embrace of non-existence as a source of liberation.  How many ways can we be free of ourselves?  And how many times will I find them again and again, always different?  

If I Could Have a Super Power.....

It had been so long since I put my feet to the sky, one of my favorite moments in an outdoor Tae Kwon Do workout.  The sun is there and usually some leaves from the trees, and there are my feet, inverted of all their normal responsibility, the most carefree they ever are.  There is usually also a back-of-mind thought pertaining to the importance of Tae Kwon Do, the current state of my practice, why I'm doing it sort of thing.  It's not something I've even acknowledged before today's workout, but it was there and common place.  That there should be a moment unhindered by my tracking mind, just enjoying the bliss of such a stretch, would be absurd.  What is this for?  For what good do I do this?

And that's it.  It is for that question, for that opportunity to see that such a moment exists.  To see something upside-down and beautiful and to feel my mind blocking it from me in its hidden and subtle ways.  Tae Kwon Do, like many of the practices that I have found to be the most valuable in my life, can open doors to seeing the world in new ways, to seeing the way that I tend to see it, and offering the opportunity to step back from that, perhaps even trying on a new perspective.  There are likely many people, most certainly the children with whom I interact nearly everyday, that could enjoy such a moment without care.  To see myself in the moment gives me a chance to be something or someone else.  And with that, live many more lives than my own.  

Twinkle Variations (100x)

Both yesterday and today I participated in Suzuki group concerts, watching others play and leading some of my own cello students.  I stayed for the violins today, sitting in the balcony at MSM, seeing the most advanced groups go first, and bit by bit adding more students, so that the initial 10 became perhaps 100 by the end, the youngest probably 3 or 4 years old.

As a musician and a teacher, I have a rough first-hand experience of what it takes to learn to play an instrument, even for a young person.  And yet still, the experience of watching 100 children play a song in unison together is quite moving.  The discipline that it takes to get to this moment, within oneself, in relation to a teacher, and to the others playing along, is noticeable.  For a child to put aside their own drives and needs long enough to develop these skills is beautiful, and for adults to find a way to foster it is inspiring.  It somehow marks an urge and an ability to ask ourselves to be more than we are, and to help our children seek that as well.

Balancing the self with others is a difficult thing, and different cultures have different answers.  And even though I may wish for greater individuality sometimes, the contribution that Japan has made to our early music education has a lot to offer and a lot to teach us.  I wonder when it will cease to be amazing, the things of which we are capable.

Sailing

The bus that was on its way to me disappeared from my tracking app and I had to take a taxi to the train station.

After announcing several students that had been especially hard-working on a musical fundraiser and presenting them with gifts, I was also called to the stage and presented with a card for getting married.  (I suppose that took some work, too.)

I didn't know I had to ask the pianist to play with my groups for the recital.  But they sounded great anyway.

And I was gifted an incredible hand-painted set of plates and goblets by the students in one of my group classes.

Lots of different sorts of things happening today.  But all-in-all, a very nice day, the air warm and the trees seeming to soak it in.

I spoke with a friend about another friend, and ruminated on states on being in life.  Are we anchored, are we sailing?  And are either of these inevitable for a given person, or can we learn to occupy new states?  And how strange to see another in a different state, perhaps permanently so, and to try to make sense of it for oneself, especially if one is deeply committed and connected to that person.

Is it possible to count the different states of being in which we find ourselves, the different situations, and exchanges?  They seem to defy being discrete, seem to blend into one another temporally and categorically.  One day I will be waiting for a bus that never comes, and thinking of a person always sailing.

Open Space (but still busy)

Just married.  Just finishing a vacation.  Just beginning a summer after my first year of lots of teaching.  Things are shifting, they feel different.  Stepping off a cliff into an unknown space, looking for some netting of reason.  I'm clinging to lists and lists of lists of intention.  Maybe I'll catch myself in them and understand where this is all going, and if I need to turn in some direction.  Or if I should allow the ride to happen.

Teacher Training

I did a short auditon today for a teaching position.  The were two identical classes this morning and I was teaching most of the second one while the head of the school stepped in to observe me teach a portion.

After the first class, the current teacher gave me tips on inflecting my voice more, making it higher, etc.  It reminded me of my departure from music ed so many years ago, when I was asked to act in order to teach.  I also realized how much confidence I had to be myself, and that if I wasn't the right fit, I was fine with that.  And furthermore, it made me question the giving of many pieces of advice prior to performance, when confidence is often what is needed. It was good advice, though.  And in the second class, given that I had the experience of the first class behind me as well, I found myself naturally doing the things she had suggested.  

It changes the way I expect things of my students to be a student myself.  It might be the greatest guide for a teacher to be a learner at the same time.  

Apart from that, today was wonderful, the last day of Suzuki training.  And also strange to have to be away from Andrew for so long, after being so close and such partners for so many days.  

Thoughts on Marriage (shared in our wedding ceremony on 6.4.17)

This has been a wonderful weekend of family and love.  It is a pleasure to be able to share it with you all.

What is marriage?  Why are we doing it?  A friend of ours openly asked us this question shortly after we were engaged, and it is not something that we are doing without thought.  But I don’t believe that marriage is necessary for two people to love one another.  

Often times there is an assumption in our culture that when two people are together for awhile, they should get married.  It’s just what we do.  When people get engaged, the normal response is usually a straightforward congratulations, expressions of joy or goodwill.  A happily-ever-after feeling.  But I don’t think  that’s really the entire story.  In fact some of the things that I think may be the most valuable about marriage, and the reasons why I find myself deciding to embark on it, are perhaps not the happily-ever-after trope that we tell ourselves.  They are reasons of growth, of strength, of exploration, of ever-deepening openness from a pledge of commitment.  

We have known one another for nearly 8 years, been together but apart for roughly 5 and half, and together together for 2.  In many ways, I suspect that little will change after today.  We will still search for a more and more graceful dance in our everyday lives, navigating stresses and joys, sickness and health, intimacy and independence, learning to read one another with greater subtlety and responding in more and more giving ways.  

It can be so easy to be alone.  We can do whatever we want, when we want to do it.  Nobody challenges us, pushes us to embrace another viewpoint or perspective.  We can work towards our personal goals unhindered and uncompromised, limited only by our self-awareness and self-control.  A closed system can be very efficient, safe, and comfortable.  

But as soon as we enter into a world with others, or with another, that changes.  We open ourselves to unknowns, to being challenged by another's ideas, viewpoints, and routines.  We find we may need to ask ourselves to question our own sense of value, of timing, of purpose.  We might still agree with ourselves in the end, but to upend our own preconditions and assumptions puts us in a vulnerable space, swinging from one known to another known through the open unknown space of trust.  The ego of stone is worn away more and more, perhaps even one day merging fully with the stream of water that challenged it, becoming it.  

Why go through this?  Why disrupt our balance of individuality and solitude?  Because the world is bigger than any one of us.  By opening myself to another, by allowing myself to give and take with another, I let go of holding on to myself.  Many people think of marriage as the end of certain freedoms.  They focus on the confines of commitment, as though it brings a static presence to life.  But I think it can be something else.  It is a presence that asks us to think again, to find patience, to see things in a new way, to listen more deeply, to give what we wish to have, and to ask ourselves more deeply what that is.  In the inner balance of ego and seeking more universal existence, I strangely find myself appreciating the liberating qualities that marriage can offer.  

Being married is a step further in that commitment.  No it is not a necessity, but internally I think that level of commitment makes a difference.  

And that we go through this ceremony with others is meaningful.  I admit to being a bit more on the eloping end of the spectrum, but I have come to appreciate the idea of sharing this experience with others.  Because just as I do not wish to be a closed system, neither should we be as a couple.  We are extended through the presence of our family and friends. We make these declarations of love with you and through you.  You are a part of guiding us through life.  It has become extremely clear how important you are, whether you are here in person, or with us in spirit.  

But all of these things don’t fall into place without someone that seems like the right life partner.  I’d probably still be enjoying my lonely existence were it not for his kindness, his thoughtfulness, his patience, his reflection, and honesty.   I am deeply grateful to be making this commitment with Andrew.  And grateful for the presence of so much love in our lives.  

Ends of Beginnings

We had originally thought to spend this day going up the Hudson River Valley for a day trip, but instead, thoroughly cleaned the apartment (it had reached a critical mass prior to the wedding) in order to show it to Andrew's parents.  We also spent the afternoon with them, showing them bits of our lives and where Andrew works before coming home to do a stack of thank you cards.  They are so small in comparison to what they are attempting to express.

Tonight will likely be our first normal meal, tomorrow I return to "work" and my last day of teacher training for Suzuki and Andrew dives back into work.  My ring is becoming more comfortable and the feeling of being married is a new one.  Perhaps it is the combination of being on vacation and being able to show our gratitude for one another unhindered by everyday stresses.  But now at least our apartment is clean!

We also got all the pictures from our photographer and a beautiful video that she made of the day.  Things are coming together, wrapping up, winding down, starting anew.....

Love love love

This weekend has been an incredible and joyous surprise.  Maybe because I never expected a perfect wedding, nor, to be perfectly honest, did I expect that it would be so much fun and so deeply satisfying.  Each day has brought a deeper level of happiness, despite, and dare I say because of, being seeped in social events.

What would I have changed about any one of the days in our 5-day long celebrations?  Meeting with family, going to City Hall, a picnic in Central Park with friends and family from so many times in life.

On the day of the ceremony, we woke up gently, ate breakfast separately as we usually do.  my mother came to the hotel room to start on my hair and then we finished packing and walked next door to Flushing Town Hall for short walk-through rehearsal.  My friend arrived and I spent the next hour and a half sitting in front of her while she did my make-up, my mother and sister-in-law behind me trying to figure out my hair, the photography coming and going, everyone chatting about this and that.
And the first look, which was strange, but shortly followed by an easy and fun photo shoot around FTH.  Then back to the waiting room for a few minutes and then downstairs to wait outside the door.  The music started and everyone began slowly walking in until it was my turn.  And then I walked slowly through so many eyes of people that I love looking at me happily.

I loved our ceremony, the words that were shared by guests and other loved ones,  having an opportunity to share my own thoughts about marriage, and our vows.  We walked out and took more pictures with family on the rainy front steps of the building before a quick stop in the cocktail hour and then upstairs to the reception.

Great food, slideshow, speeches, our own performance.  And the Horah, perhaps my favorite, dancing in a large circle with people, dancing with Andrew in the center, being lifted on chairs by people I trust.  What a thrill.

And then Ceilidh dancing!  And cookies!

We still have so much wine.  Still receiving gifts.  Still getting more pictures and hearing from more friends.  And still spending time with friends and family.  Lunch with Andrew's Cambridge friends and Ellis Island and Japanese a Ootoya with Andrew's parents.

But we are back at the apartment and starting to put things away and tidy up from the whirlwind leading up to the weekend.  What an incredible gift to have been able to have this time to celebrate one another and to reflect on love with family and friends.  It's not often that we can hit the pause button on life and be able to open such a space of gratitude.  Very thankful.  And feeling very full of living....

Family and Friends from Central Park

The weekend continues, every day and moment making it fully worth the entire event. Perhaps the highlight was a long picnic in Central Park with beautiful weather and many friends and family from all over getting to know one another.  We picked up cookies, packed and made our way to Queens, and ate at a Chinese restaurant, Spicy and Tasty for dinner.  

And now a few little chores to go over before tomorrow, but looking forward to the day very much.

City Hall

This morning we got dressed up and took the train down to City Hall where we found my parents and brother already in line.  And we joined hundreds of other brides and grooms and waited for our number to be announced and show up on a screen in a large waiting hall.  We signed a paper, and then a little later, got a private service with an officiant and both our families.

And then suddenly, married!  We walked around lower Manhattan for bit, gazed into the 9/11 Memorial, talking with different family members as we walked.  Had lunch at Cafe China in Midtown, then cakes at Lady M in Bryant Park, pictures in front of the New York Public Library, and then train back to Queens for a beverage run.

And then dinner at an Indian Restaurant in Bayside.  Driving through Korean and Chinese neighborhoods back to the train station and back to our apartment, somehow different and yet the same than this morning.  A magical immunity seems to surround us.  How many feelings exist in a life?

Flushing Queens families

We went to Flushing, Queens for the first of several times this weekend for the beginning of a merging of families.  We arrived not knowing how the evening would play out, planes landed and we walked through Chinatown, Koreatown, and stopped in the basement of a Hindu temple to try their famous canteen food.  But at the end of the even, everyone was gathered in the basement of an AirBnB in Queens, across the street from Kissena Park, eating dosas, spicy soup, and pizza, enjoying two babies, and learning one another's names.

Tomorrow morning we head to City Hall.