As the Mists Clear...

...and the hard edges of Reality begin to assert their presence, the sheer magnitude of the work that lies ahead of me becomes whelmingly clear.

The reality of having given up, quite literally, everything to do what was asked, then returning to start, also quite literally, from scratch is profoundly daunting. Still depleted from what I experienced over the past several months, I find I am already exhausted as I launch myself, anew.

Awash in a sea of possibility and improbability, though populated with friendly faces and encouragement, without any sort of anchor remains powerfully stressful and lonely - even surrounded with friends. I know I can do this; I hope that I'm right.

As I write this, halfway through my second week at home, I am in my third apartment. I spent most of last week on the 46th Floor of Manhattan Plaza, in the apartment of a longtime friend, taking care of his cat, Caruso; a cat with a voice that makes a Siamese sound like a wind chime... But, we bonded.

From the window, one has an exotic view of Manhattan from its edge; toward Times Square and the heartbeat of the City.

In the other direction, the view of the Hudson is magnificent, with the USS Enterprise museum docked on the west side - and the Concorde balanced atop the ship...

The apartment is at the exact height as the apex of the Great Pyramid at Giza; a spiritual aerie in a town not known for its spirituality...though, spirituality does exist, here. In and among the spires and valleys of this metropolis thrums the energy of life; one need only be open to it, open to the flow. It's there...

But, what has happened to Broadway!? That broad avenue is now, indeed, as close to a Pedestrian Mall as is ever going to manifest in Manhattan. A broad walkway for le turiste with a lane or two for mostly public transportation and taxis...

Love the "green."

It is good to be here, though. This week, I encountered a family of tourists on a subway platform, examining a map; so, I asked if they needed assistance. Turns out they were Italian, from Venezia, and spoke no English. KO to the rescue! (And they said learning Italian would do me no good, outside an Opera House...) An extremely nice family, whose faces lit up as I began to tell them - in their own language - how to get to the Met. Those experiences tend to fuel my raison d'etre.

Felt good, the rest of the day.

Further along the way, I encountered these two talented kids; a violin duet in the subway. Stopping to photograph them, I noticed what could only be their mother, all tucked away next to a pillar and watching her kids like a tutorial hawk; counting every note with a slight nod of her head. I asked her, "Are these yours...?" A proud nod and a huge smile came gleaming back at me. "You must be proud; those kids are GOOD!" "Why, thank you!"

It was a good day.

Finally, as though to round-out my underground experience, in glancing across the tracks I saw something I'd never before seen. While I've often seen, and in fact look forward to seeing, rats scuttling about amongst the tracks and evaporating just before the trains come in; I've never seen a big ol' rat on the platform, before.

Dayum!

Fortunately, he was going Uptown.