new york state of mind

One thing you must know is that New York has the best bagels in the entire world. No exaggeration. Legend has it that the water in New York truly makes the bagels unforgettable. Whether it’s the water or simply sheer luck, I’m extremely grateful that I can frequently indulge in such exquisite masterpieces of carbohydrates. My favorite bagel place that I’ve ever come across is called Tal Bagels (Tal for short). Tal was voted the best bagel in NYC and quite honestly, I agree. Sometimes I disagree with such outlandish and overarching statements, but just this once, I wholeheartedly concur. Please escape the Bay-gels of SF while you still can and come try a real bagel for a change. 

When I open the doors to Tal, the immediate rush of hot, doughy air plasters against my cheeks. The man behind the counter subsequently yells, “What can I get ya?” in the most intimidatingly friendly New York fashion. Without hesitation, I yell back, “Baconeggandcheese on an everything bagel toasted, please!” He begins slicing and dicing, only to scream over his shoulder, “Saltpeppaketchup?” I reply, “No thanks” and scoot along the conveyor belt of people towards the register. So begins another classic New York morning. 

Following my extremely epic and extraordinary Bagel Bash, I normally scramble over to Dunkin’ Donuts in my best and most eccentrically colorful outfit, chug a medium caramel iced coffee, put in my headphones, listen to my “I am happy to be alive playlist,” confidently swing my tote bag over my shoulder, and begin the two block walk to my second home: Central Park.

Depending on the day, I either sit on the benches diagonal from the Wild West playground, walk the reservoir in its entirety (1.58 miles), sit on the Great Lawn, head to the Great Lawn benches, utilize the Great Lawn swings, or walk to the bridge near the Tennis Courts. All of these options are fabulous in every way, but it simply depends on what sort of mood I’m in that day. Do I feel lazy? Energized? Tired? Cold? In need of activity? Sometimes all of the above and more? Depending on the adjective, I choose a new walking distance and embark on the journey. If I feel frisky and frivolous (which I normally do), I select the Ultra-Fun-and-Far route which ends up at the benches across from the Great Lawn near the baseball field (across and to the right of the swings). This Great Lawn bench is both my normal and favorite destination. 

Once I arrive, I plop myself down on the classic green bench — I choose the one with the “SHE HAD SPUNK!” placard — get out my Snoopy journal and begin journaling. I start writing about all the activities I’ve done so far that day in immense detail, such as waking up at 11:31, frolicking down the 10 flights of stairs (I’m afraid of elevators), making small talk with the woman behind me at Tal, hearing divine Jazz played on the corner of 93rd and CPW (Central Park West), witnessing the prettiest tree I’ve ever seen, taking a photo of some interesting graffiti, crafting a line of poetry in my head, and absolutely anything else I wish to remember or look back on at any given point in time. Then, I reflect on how I feel about the things I’ve done. Proud? Accomplished? Disappointed? Rejuvenated? Astonished? Sometimes all of the above and more? This is my time to truly say anything that comes to mind. I often end up reflecting on relationships with friends or family, recent anxieties, or events I am looking forward to. On some occasions, I even gratitude journal 10 things I am grateful for, 10 things I’m looking forward to, and 10 things that made me smile that day. 

Nothing in the world compares to listening to your mellowest, jazziest, and moodiest music while writing about your deepest thoughts and emotions in your own quiet haven of a vibrant city. Central Park is truly a remarkable place for that reason. Its beauty comes from its sacredness. In such a bustling, effervescent, and electrifying city, having a tranquil safe haven to unwind and simply breathe is something that many take for granted. Because of this, I try my best to take full advantage of what truly is so close to me. Beyond journaling there, I often meditate, read, breathe, people watch, and even cry. 

After my journaling routine, I softly shut my eyes, lean back, and begin counting my breaths. In and out, 1. In and out, 2. In and out, 3. This repeats until I reach 25, at which point I am normally relaxed and ready to embark on the journey of a guided meditation. Almost like an appetizer, counting my breaths is the initial snack that tides me over until dinner is served. In this case, dinner just so happens to be a 17 minute guided meditation on having a Heart Less Heavy. Extremely scrumptious and delectable in every way, right? 

For these guided sessions, I simply login to my Calm app and press play. From then on, I close my eyes, lean back, and forget about the rest of the world around me. In these 17 minutes, the only thing that matters is the fact that nothing does. Almost like a trance, my bellied breaths steady themselves in a stable rhythm, my feet plant themselves firmly on the ground, and my spine straightens itself against the bench. I am here. I am grounded. I am calm. 

Many of the guided meditations begin with rhythmic breathing, then drift into white noise to provide time for you to connect with your mind and be fully present in yourself. While many assume that the point of meditation is to empty your mind, the real beauty of meditation is letting your mind wander and gracefully letting your thoughts come and go as freely as they please. The point is not to ban all thoughts and have a silenced mind,I'll be laughing with everyone I see Can't believe how strange it is to be anything at all the point is to candidly accept any thoughts you may have, but not let yourself get bogged down by them. In your present state, you should openly listen to each thought and give it the space it deserves to be heard.

It is in Central Park that I feel the most in-tune with myself, while it is in a state of meditative calm that I feel most in-tune with my thoughts. When I meditate in the park, the rest of the world fades away. For whatever reason, the air there feels fresher and softer against my cheeks than it normally does. This initial softening of the air takes me out of my busy surroundings. The constant clamor of the streets dulls to a faint hum, the sirens fade into the background, and the people around me molt into nothing more than passersby. In these moments I focus solely on myself, my mind, and my breath. With my eyes shut, my breath deep, and my mind focused, the world melts away around me. I feel the trees stretch towards the soft azure, the cold bench soften beneath me, and my thoughts expand to fill up the surrounding space. I become the environment around me instead of being a part of the environment. This initial feeling of oneness with both nature and myself is completely indescribable. Almost as though a high, I become high on the simple purity, goodness, and peace of life. 

If I can quiet my mind and be present amidst the roaring liveliness of New York City, I can quiet my mind anywhere. My grand euphoric moments have taken place when I've been sprawled across the classic green benches of Central Park journaling to the tune of my father’s rock n’ roll, appreciating the vibrant garb of those around me, and smiling towards the sky in a state of complete gratitude. It was in these moments when I felt most like myself. But maybe my grand state of euphoria had nothing to do with what I ate for breakfast, how I slept the night before, or how many cracks I stepped on (or backs I’ve consequently broken) as I sauntered out and about. In the end, it might have just come down to the sequestered nature of Central Park that is incomparable to anywhere else in the world. Its sheer aura and quiet mystique breathed peace into the city around it. New York was a test run of sorts, a mental experiment that began as an outlet to quell my anxieties and obsessive thoughts. 

 Now, as a frequent meditator, I am aware of the many places, times, and headspaces I'm in during which I reach a state of euphoria. While my most blissful moments have been amidst the loud silence of Central Park, I’ve perhaps learned that the location of meditation doesn’t have much of an effect on its outcome. Here at Stanford, I’ve meditated in various hammocks, fields, chairs, vehicles, buildings, and even with groups of other people. Through all of my meditative experiences, I’ve discovered that I am capable of finding my calm no matter where I go. Near, far, or wherever you are, as long as you’ve got your breath and a place to sit, you too can create your own New York State of Mind.