Perspective

I opened my faux wood blinds and peered out my unlocked window of my Astoria apartment. A blanket of gray covered the morning sky as if the sun had decided to sleep in on this Saturday morning. I glanced to the right and saw the famous skyline that stared back at me like an opponent in a duel. I sighed, and remembered how excited I had been to rent this apartment when I had seen its view. And now, all that could come to mind was how difficult it was to afford this small space I called home. My perspective had greatly changed over the past four months....

I plopped myself back on the couch and reached for my coffee. I rubbed my feet, still sore from last night's work. I had been relieved to be let go early. The night had been slow. I couldn't remember the last time I had come home before 2 AM on a Friday. I wondered if I would ever have a weekend night free from the necessity of work again...

In my own small universe, the difficulties that challenge me here on a daily basis are exhausting, intimidating, frustrating, annoying.... I never thought it was going to be easy, but admittedly, I suppose I didn't think it would be this hard either.

Trying to put things into perspective, I considered a series of recent experiences on the subway....

A few days ago, I rode home on the subway from Brooklyn. It was a rainy day, and I had decided to venture out late, and now, all I could think about was getting home. After a few stops, a skinny, short, man boarded the subway car dressed all in black. His clothes were dirty and the fedora on his head looked as though it had seen many changes in the seasons. He carried a small suitcase and a beat up electric guitar over his shoulder. The suitcase housed a small amplifier for the traveling musician. The train began to move and the man began to play. As he sang his own version of, "Knocking on Heaven's Door", I could see that he had no teeth, and perhaps by the sounds of his voice, was a heavy smoker. His hat, his suitcase and his guitar may have been his only worldly possessions.... at the completion of his song, I was compelled to give him the little money housed in my wallet...

A few stops later, on that same train, an old lady, hunched over, pushed a baby stroller filled with knick knacks and draped with garbage bags full of recyclables. Covered in baggy mismatched clothes and starring at the floor, she shuffled in small slow steps through the subway car, singing in an almost inaudible fashion. I tried not to stare at this poor woman, but the pity that welled up inside of me took control of my eyes almost ordering me to look. As she neared my seat, I could finally make out what she had been singing. In a gospel-like song, she sang a lyric similar to, "If you can't pay your bills, TELL HIM WHAT YOU WANT... if you can't find a job, TELL HIM WHAT YOU WANT... if you can't pay your rent, TELL HIM WHAT YOU WANT, because Jesus....." and her voice faded away into a mumble as she shuffled away from me. I wondered how this poor and seemingly homeless woman could possibly find the heart to give people advice on how to get what they want or need...

Finally, I was waiting for my train to take me back home after a class in the city. Starved and exhausted from dancing for the past two hours, I gulped my vitamin water and eagerly awaited the takeout I had just purchased for my late lunch. A man approached the wooden subway bench where I had decided to wait, and I glanced up at him. He was an attractive clean cut business man with somewhere to go and probably someone to see. Then, out of the corner of my eye, something shiny caught the florescent light of the subway station. I looked down and noticed the artificial limb attached to his left arm. The hook that was his hand had caught my eye. I looked down at my own hands as they held my purse and my lunch. I considered how I complained of carrying trays of drinks deep into the night....and then considered how lucky I was to be able to do so.

I got up to reheat my coffee. With my two able hands, I poured the coffee, and carried it back to my cozy couch in my Astoria apartment overlooking the famous New York skyline. I rubbed my sore feet again, and I felt lucky that was my only ailment. Things really weren't so bad... I was sure there were plenty of people that not only would admire me for the risks I was taking, but also would wish they could be in my shoes... even if they were tightly strapped.

Just then, the sun peaked through the clouds and light filled my room as if the universe was giving me a gentle nudge to get up and get going. Grateful that I was reminded to keep things in perspective, I started my new day, in this relatively new place, with a fresh and new attitude. -M