I returned from New York very early Sunday morning, and as I pulled up to the house, The Hurricane literally ran out of the door screaming, “Happy Mother’s Day! We made your flowers! And pancakes!” Dreamy. Then he stopped in his tracks, got his priorities straight, and said, “So, what did you bring me?”
Because that’s what we do.
We come and go, bearing gifts.
This time I found the gifts to be way beyond expectations.
It’s bad enough when New Yorkers neurotically prattle on about how far superior their city is to any other planetary location, but when someone who doesn’t even live there resplendently gushes, well, I don’t know, it’s just lame.
But I can’t help myself.
The thing is, I just feel more alive when I’m in New York. Always have. Like more neurons are firing. It’s chemical, but there’s no formula. It makes no sense. I usually laugh and chalk this up to a past life experience, although I don’t believe in the nonsense. I can’t ignore the neurons.
This trip was particularly powerful. Perhaps it was the shortness of length and breath. It was a hectic 46 hours, almost all waking hours, of intense learning, meeting, presenting, hunting, gathering, consuming, viewing, parking, playing, discovering. It was simply lovely. Seeing swell pals is always a plus too.
So thank you, New York for a mainline of inspiration, passion, energy, momentum, and understanding. Even better souvenirs than usual.