My father passed away on Thursday, March 18. The outpouring of love from my hometown was overwhelming, healing, and potent. I returned to New York full of gratitude for family and friends.
I am an introvert. This means that I spend energy to be with people, and recharge when I'm alone. So even though I was grateful for the contact with family and friends, I was completely worn out. I was craving solitude and quiet in ways that I have never experienced before.
Yesterday, I went for a walk in Central Park to seek out some peace and quiet. None was to be found. Leafless trees provide very little buffer against the sounds of the city, and my walk was similar to a walk on the street.
Today, I went for a walk in the park along the Hudson River. The day was cool, very cloudy, with threats of rain, so the park was almost empty. The traffic sounds from the west side highway were quite audible, yet they receded as the lights turned red, and my pace began to slow. Still, I didn't feel like I was finding the solitude I was craving.
As I walked slowly out onto the pier at Christopher Street, I realized that a constant swarm of thoughts was running through my mind. The narratives were wild and frenzied, with recriminations and doubts about the past mixing with worries and fantasies about the future. I worried about what I had forgotten to do in the week I was away from the office, what I would eat upon returning home from my walk, what work would be like next week, and how my life would unfold when I am retired and old.
The chatter was a buffer, an attempt for a sad and lonely son to avoid encountering his feelings about the loss of his father. However, it was also toxic. I realized that my wild mind was causing me to miss the solitude and quiet that I desperately needed.
So I calmed down, felt my feet touching the ground, looked at the play of light upon the river. Again and again, I returned to myself, until I was in the moment and real.
I walked north along the river, tears in my eyes, the wind at my back, and saw the buds of spring life etched above me against the gray sky.
