boutique content company<\/a>.)<\/p>\nThere was a familiarity with these routes, but you rarely want things to stay the same when you’re young. At that point, I didn’t simply understand the myth that makes New York so magical (and frightening); I took it to heart: The more ground you cover, the more you are experiencing. The more you are becoming. The more you are worth.<\/p>\n
Growing up here was fast, and sometimes the pace made me furious. These days\u2014and closer to home\u2014that fury has culminated in other, quieter ways.<\/p>\n
***<\/p>\n
I’ve spent a solid amount of my adult life in Brooklyn. Specifically, I’ve lived in two apartments on 11th Street since 2016. (If you want to get a sense of their proximity to each other, both addresses contain the exact same numbers almost in identical order.) <\/p>\n
The first space was a humble 400 square foot studio in a six-floor walkup with my significant other, John. Neither of us had lived with a romantic partner before, yet the possibility of canvasing those exposed brick walls filled us with warmth and pride. As we adjusted to the rhythm of daily life together (John heading to the office, me staying behind to work from home), I grew to look at our neighborhood as a source of company.<\/p>\n
Two years later, and approximately half a block down, we moved into our current apartment. It’s magical, and we feel incredibly grateful to be here. Light spills into our bedroom in the early morning and glimmers in our dining room during golden hour. But the dramatic shadows and stunning nineteenth-century moldings have become a backdrop to more than just aesthetic endeavors. When the COVID-19 pandemic brought New York to a halt and called city dwellers to shelter in place, our relationship to home changed in an instant. Perhaps even more startlingly, our relationship to movement disintegrated. <\/p>\n
There would be no venturing into the city for coffee get-togethers. There would be no subway rehearsals before pitch meetings. There was only a confined closeness while people remained apart, and with that, the edges of life became more apparent. 11th Street was no longer a marker of our residence. It was our portal to the world\u2014however little access we had to it.<\/p>\n
*** <\/p>\n
The stretch of 11th Street that I occupy looks like this: Brownstones line each side of the road. Tree canopies cover the sidewalks providing beauty or respite depending on the weather. If I stand on my stoop and look to my left, I see a busy (and somehow still scenic) intersection. To my right, the foliage-laden entrance of Prospect Park.<\/p>\n
While we’re on the subject, I should mention another kind of (home) stretch: In the months leading up to 2020, my feelings of burnout were at an all-time high. After a decade of running a digital business (and, a lot of the time, running into walls), I knew that I needed to change directions. This process began by closing my Tumblr-turned-website and formally launching Slow Stories (a podcast\u2014and now platform\u2014that explores how we can live, work, and create more thoughtfully in our digital world).<\/p>\n
Beyond the screen, it had also become difficult to reconcile my desire for slowness with the frenetic energy that characterized my surroundings: Herds of school children squealing while marching together in single-file lines; dog walkers and their canine posses weaving in and around commuter crowds; remote workers talking (read: shouting) passionately into their cell phones outside of coffee shops, keeping one eye on their belongings amidst laptop-laden tables. Don’t get me wrong, all of this was an incredible sight, and it seemed on par with what life was supposed to look like in New York. But as I continued to move within the currents of hurried living, I felt a sense of relief every time I turned the corner back home.<\/p>\n
When the pandemic ultimately shattered the picturesque version of what we\u2014I\u2014knew to be true, walking down 11th Street showed me everything and nothing. There were muffled \u00ab\u00a0hellos\u00a0\u00bb under masks, crayon-drawn signs with words of encouragement taped to windows. In reality, not a whole lot happened on these walks, and that was a remarkable thing, given how much the ground kept shifting beneath our feet. <\/p>\n
There was nothing we could do, even less to see, and so much more to consider. <\/p>\n
***<\/p>\n
Over the past eighteen months, I’ve watched people depart New York for the mountainous Colorado terrain, the lush California beaches, or idyllic upstate towns. (I understand the motivation, but it’s worth noting that many of these individuals have made their way back to the city.) <\/p>\n
\u00ab\u00a0There are other places to live,\u00a0\u00bb friends and family members throughout the country gently argue. And they’re right. There are other places to live. But I’ve learned there are also other ways to live\u2014other ways to move through the world not only to understand your place within it but to let the journey guide you to a place of deeper understanding overall.<\/p>\n
I stayed\u2014because I wanted to, out of necessity. But also out of a looming obligation to help rewrite a narrative about how one can live in New York City untethered from its demand for more. It turns out that distance from the usual expectations of city life reinforced an important lesson: In times of transformation or crisis, we often let the allure of newness eclipse the magic of what’s already in front of us. And because we measure value in growth, it’s easy to write off moments that aren’t always quantifiable. But these are moments we have to choose: To see. To create. To love. To remember. <\/p>\n
***<\/p>\n
Once, while standing at a congested traffic corner (watching people stop short to avoid crashing into one another), John remarked that \u00ab\u00a0people in New York rush to go nowhere.\u00a0\u00bb I think about this idea often as the city continues on its path towards reopening, though I would be remiss not to acknowledge that it is an immense privilege to slow down. Still, I believe that we all have the ability to view our relationship with movement through new lenses: quality, slowness, purpose. <\/p>\n
Whether or not it’s feasible to put these ideas into practice every day in a place like New York will be determined. I want to rush towards those possibilities\u2014but as I said before, this story is about staying put. So here on 11th Street, I look around; I also look within, reflecting on the moments that don’t have anything to do with being more or better. Because at the end of the day, these moments make a quality life. And regardless of where they\u2019ll lead, I’m still moving forward\u2014more than likely on the same street, undoubtedly in a new chapter of life\u2014however slowly, step by step. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I’ve lived in three states, five cities, and sixteen addresses. When I landed in New York seventeen years ago, I embraced the momentum that’s synonymous with city living. But this story is about one city block that helped me endure a distinct block of time. This story is about staying put.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":42,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[1396,1395,481],"tags":[8101,8099,8100],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp.wearedore.com\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/292147"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp.wearedore.com\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp.wearedore.com\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp.wearedore.com\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/42"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp.wearedore.com\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=292147"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/wp.wearedore.com\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/292147\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":292211,"href":"https:\/\/wp.wearedore.com\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/292147\/revisions\/292211"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp.wearedore.com\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=292147"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp.wearedore.com\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=292147"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp.wearedore.com\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=292147"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}