Yesterday...

So yesterday V and I finally hung out. It's been a while since we've seen each other: She's been in New York for the past two months (lucky devil...). Kai and I biked over to her new apartment in Nyhavn, a funky old school Copenhagen apartment which never fails to inspire me to write... With it's loft bed and central location, courtyard view and proximity to the water, it's the writer's dream apartment. It's a chill day, lounging on the couch, our two boys Teo and Kai geeking out on their respective computers. V fills me in on her recent trip to Berlin, I gush about my upcoming trip to Nice (I can't wait...) We check out shoes, clothes, books...
Later that day we end up in Nørrebro. It's the part of Copenhagen that reminds me most of New York. It's hectic there...young kids breaking the virginity of their adulthood (their first Summer out on the streets, a valid part of the nightlife). There are families with kids whose parents sip cool on the dynamism of difference. There are a multitude of graffitti-ridden walls and the distinct smell of sour garbage and piss. Yeah, Nørrebro reminds me of Brooklyn, back in the good old days...
We decide to take the kids to see Claudius and his band Shine play...V takes the kids ahead of me and as I walk down Skt. Hans Gade (my old street), and the soft spring rain kisses my face (there has been a lot of rain lately, but my meditation has been accept it. Just think of the many people who would do anything to walk in the rain...so there I was, loving every moment of it!) I realized that my life in Copenhagen truly began when I moved out to Skt. Hans Gade. But that's another story... I wrote the following while living there, in that very apartment where Bandit Queen Press was born, the same apartment in which I cut off my locks...took my life by my hands and did some serious re-arranging...so much so that I am still experiencing some of the changes I undertook back then...


Skt. Hans Gade

Graffitti-bombed walls
a corner cafe
chokes
on cigarette smoke.

Skateboard wheels
dig into
asphalt
&
80s wares
are now antique.

A bedroom window
sill
spills sun
into
a girl’s heart.

Anyway, the funny thing is that while I'm walking to the bar, on this cool Summer evening, I realize that I am gripped by this fear...My heart is racing and my physical body expresses all of the signs of a person in stress. But why am I stressed? Check this out: I'm healthy. My son is healthy. I got a job. I got money (most of the time), I got amazing friends, I've got amazing projects, I've even met a pretty awesome person with whom I'm even dreaming with SO WHY AM I SCARED? Answer? Cause I'm used to it...
It's a pattern.
I breathe. For real.
All the way down to my stomach.
Cause the energy residing in my stomach been telling me a whole bunch of things lately. Like, your happiness won't last. Who do you think you are to be so happy? It's all gonna go wrong.
Shit.
I breathe. And let it go. Cause at that moment, walking down that street, with the rain gently caressing my face, at that moment, when I don't think about the future or fret about the past life is pretty perfect and I'm not gonna let anything, not even my non-believing Self get in the way of that. I deserve it. We all deserve it.

I get there and the bar is packed and V, Kai and Teo are leaning against the bar as cool as everything. Kai's sipping on his coke and Teo is playing a video game of his phone. V orders a glass of red wine and her son, Teo yells to the bartender, "Don't give her wine, she's pregnant!"
"I am not pregnant!" She protests as the bartender looks at her a bit suspiciously. "I swear, I'm not pregnant!"
"I'm not getting involved." The bartender says, a small laugh on his lips. Her son is only 6!

The band rocks and we have a good time. It's nice hanging out, listening to good music with my son. But I still wanna know, how come no one offered the kids their seats? Is it that attitude that kids shouldn't be in places like that? Hmmm....imagine if we rethought that.

We go outside and play Red Light, Green Light, One, Two Three...in the drizzle. On our way home we witness a group of boys taunting a woman. I get worried...I'm with my kid, what if they start harassing us? V, without a pause, immediately walks over to the woman and begins walking with her. I'm ready to call the cops. I'm in awe of V. My own cowardice surprises me. I swear, sometimes I don't recognize myself. Sometimes I feel so brave...other times, well, yeah...We walk the lady home as the group of boys dwindle away. I tell V how brave I think she is. "Yeah, but we're from New York...we don't get afraid of that stuff." And I can't help but mutter, "But I was."

Yeah, fear is a bitch. But whenever I rise above it I feel exhilarated and tapped in and connected directly to the Source, the One, the Power, yeah, you know...I don't crave cigarettes, my heart don't pitter patter, I feel my greatness. So why don't I rise above it more?

I am. I really really am. And like any other exercise in life, I'll just get better and better each time I do it.

farvel,
the lab