“New York will do what it Wants” - Isaac Myers III

New York will do what it Wants
- Isaac Myers III

Curlew Friday Nights - June Tenth, 2022

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New York will do what it wants. You cannot try to force it, control it, or bend it to your will. If you want to love the city, then you have to learn its rhythm. You’ve got to listen to what it’s telling you; hear its whispers and not be intimidated by its silence. And New York is often silent. Do not confuse the sirens and the construction for anything different than silence. It’s a quiet power, not loud, but resolute ––– determined.

It’s easy to miss things in New York, so if you want to enjoy the city, you’ve got to slow down and rest. The idea that New York is the city that never sleeps is a fiction. This is a place that holds up and supports millions of ideas and dreams. So when do we dream? When we’re sleeping. And when do our best ideas find us? When we’re at rest.

You can look at the city, or you can watch the city. You can hear the city, or you can listen to the city. You can be in the city, or you can be with the city.

This week I spent three afternoons seated in three locations in and around Midtown Manhattan: Monday with a green tea in Central Park, near West 72nd Street; Wednesday with a cappuccino at 7th Avenue, between 38th & 39th; and Thursday with an avocado and kale smoothie, at the corner of 9th Avenue and 33rd Street.

Sometimes I read from Karlfried Graf Dürckheim’s Hara - the Vital Centre of Man, or from Tina Brown’s The Vanity Fair Diaries, two favorites that I keep revisiting. Hara for its eternal wisdom and power; and the Vanity Fair Diaries for Brown’s strong prose, editorial mastery, and boundless bravery.

Each of these afternoons, for a few moments, I set these books aside, pressed record on my iPhone, and just spent three or four minutes listening to the island. Although I didn’t catch everything that happened –––– all of the sounds, sights, and words spoken all around me (how could I?) ––––– there’s still one thing I’m sure of: the city said everything that it wanted to; the city did not leave anything out.

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Atlas the MONOLOGUE by Rahil Najafabadi