Space
to ripen, to move, and for opera
Hello and welcome to Wondering and Wandering! These newsletters start with something I’m loving (SO good); move on to one of my adventures, impressions, or encounters and their wider cultural implications and societal suggestions in poem form (Free Space); and conclude with some ridiculous thing I’ve experienced while living in New York City (Once Upon a Time in NY). Happy reading!
It’s easy to forget the vastness of both outer and inner space. There is so much out there and in here just waiting to be discovered. Big or small, new or familiar, these spaces are worth our attention.
SO good
Peach Season. There is no season of eating to which I look forward more than that of the peach. In New York and the surrounding region, that’s late July through August and early September—welcome, peach season!!
Like all fresh produce, the peach has an interactive language to communicate its growth state. Once perfectly ripened, peaches have a certain sweet, almost floral smell. They give a little when you press in your fingers. Even with the first bite, there is no mistaking a peach’s readiness. The juices run, the sweet tartness lingers, the fuzzy exterior tickles my tongue. Luxurious, all of it.
At a farmers market the other week, I grabbed several peaches that were adorably petit. I asked the seller if there was anything different about the quality or qualities of those compared to the larger varieties he was offering. “Not at all,” he replied, “peaches are just like us. They come in different sizes and shapes, but they’re all great in their own ways.” Of course he was right, they were perfect.
To his analogy, I’d also add: if you fail to give either peaches or people the space they need to develop, poke too hard, or rush their process, you will not be receiving them at their best.
Power to the pe(ach)ple!
Free Space
Wiggle Room
I said something the other day: stillness is dangerous. Stillness as in, the absence of movement. Keep progressing keep pushing keep changing. I think I meant that But then, if I can only ever be in whatever space I'm currently occupying is there anywhere else to go? Here where everything's happening doesn't feel so bad. Maybe all I need is a little wiggle room.
Once Upon a Time in New York
On my way home from work about a year ago, I stopped in an art deco-styled bar on the main floor of the Woolworth Building, a spot called Five and Dime. That particular evening happened to be Opera Night.
I had previously and have since been wowed by opera in theaters and other concert venues (including the recital of a dear coworker!), but Opera Night in this bar was… different. As far as my ears could tell, the singers were extraordinarily talented. They sang both solo and in groups, in various languages, and with a mix of vocal ranges, but they were also right there. Gliding among the patrons, reaching out to touch and lean on us, locking eyes. They created a shockingly intimate environment that was oh, so captivating.
After the performances, I approached the singers to thank them for sharing their beautiful music with such a unique delivery. We spent the next few minutes chatting about the opera scene in New York, their other singing engagements, and their plans for the night. “Come with us to dinner!” they offered. What! Yes! I happily accepted.
I have at times participated in performance art (singing, dancing, rapping once), but really, I fancy myself a Professional Audience Member. I react enthusiastically, I engage appropriately, I refuse distractions, I send good vibes to the stage, etc. Interacting with the performers after their show, however, is a most treasured component of my self-assumed position. These folks absolutely dazzled in any room.
After that evening, I became an Opera Night regular. I rarely missed a week for the 6 or so months to follow. I became close with the bartenders, fellow listeners (and one of their corgis), and the rotation of singers—it was like a little community! We celebrated good news and mourned the bad, we stayed long past close to sing and dance and enjoy the libations, and we once even made a music video. As further evidence of the strength of this close-knit circle, while sitting at a Russian bar later on in midtown, I met a bass player for the Broadway show Wicked who knew of both the opera night I frequented and many of the singers who performed there. I’m telling you, New York is a small town!!
As my own circle expands, I’ve been attending less and less. But! Memories of Opera Night and the enchanting community space it fostered will play on in my heart forever and ever.
I hope you’re able to make space for the things that matter to you!
My best,
C