Day 13: I Discovered a Day-Trip Hike in New York

I've been longing to do this since I came to New York! Before I moved here, I lived in a rural area that abounded in natural beauty, and as I drove to and fro, I caught glimpses of scenery through my windshield — of shrimp boats resting in glassy bayous, their nets catching the falling sunlight, or of goldenrod and saw palmettos crowding around pools and arching underneath cypress trees. Despite the beauty of the scenery, however, I felt disconnected from nature because it was difficult to find places where I could hike, swim, or explore on my own. When I moved to New York, I was excited at the possibility of taking the commuter rail to various trailheads and parks outside the city. 

There was a rumor about that a couple of friends would be interested in doing just that on Saturday. As the day approached, I began to feel a familiar sense of anxiety that no plans had been made. Would the rumor remain a rumor? Would we hold off on making the plans until after we had already slept in on Saturday morning, thus rendering our trip an impossibility? As I finished my work on Thursday, I made a mental note to address this lapse AS SOON AS I returned home. Then I remembered my epiphany from Day 5: "My compulsion to be busy adds tension to my life and my relationships," and I decided to take that prescribed chill pill, and trust that the trip would happen.

As it happened, the trip didn't quite happen. A couple of friends decided that the hike would make it difficult for them to get to a family party later in the evening, and my best friend and I, worn out by the karaoke marathon of the previous night, had decided to leave the planning for the morning. When we woke up on Saturday, she was worried about her work schedule and needed to check her email and make plans for the coming week. I sat down to research commuter rail day trips, discovered how long the trips would be, and calculated how much time we would need to pack lunches, get dressed, and copy down directions and maps. We were a bit of a cyclone of anxiety and nail-biting. 

Finally, as if an angel had trumpeted the idea into my ear directly from heaven, I remembered a park in the Bronx, an easy subway ride away, that was bigger and more wild than Central Park, which I had not yet explored. Suddenly buoyed by this discovery, we finished our breakfast and chores; we picked out scarves and sweaters with relish; filled up our travel mugs and set off for Bronx.

What a beautiful, delightful, peaceful hike we had! We discovered rose-red mitten leaves fallen on the trail; paused to look at a pond through the trees; saw the sunlight cascade over a bank of smart weed, and posed for a bajillion pictures in our stylish autumn scarves. We walked clear across the park and came out dangerously close to the neighborhood where I'd had the hurling coaching course the week before, so I lured my friend to the Irish grocery store where we stocked up on sweets, crisps, and fresh-baked bread. 

HOW I LEFT MY COMFORT ZONE:

I had been really looking forward to this hike, so I struggled not to feel anxious about its happening. It would have been easy to let that anxiety cascade into grumpiness and resentment (which, I won't lie, I've done before). And in a lot of ways, this required being considerate. Several of my friends needed to take the time to be with their families instead of going on the hike. And since my friend was feeling worried about getting organized for her upcoming work week, I wanted to find a way to have an adventure that help her to feel refreshed and ready for the week, not a lengthy trip that would take away from her ability to do that. It's not so much that I went outside my comfort zone, but that I had to go outside my own desires and plans in order to invite and honor others. 

WHAT I LEARNED:

Sometimes you've got to plan ahead. My sort-of anxiety about making plans has been a major theme for me this year, and caused conflict in my relationship. I've noticed that I tend to get nervous when the weekend approaches and I haven't done sufficient research on all of the possibilities. I suppose I also consider my expensive New York rent to include a premium for the opportunities that living in New York allows. I'm not just paying for a place to lay my head and nearly-unlimited hot water, but also for access to museums, parks, Malaysian restaurants, and drum circles in Union Square. I feel a compulsion to get my money's worth by going for walks, trying out new food trucks, and generally staying busy.

Last week I learned that I need to relax and need to enjoy down time. I decided that I could put that lesson into action by not hurrying into plans for the hike. However, I learned this weekend that, sometimes, things don't get done if no one plans ahead. I enjoy adventure; I enjoy researching possibilities, figuring out the best route, and exploring every option. Planning ahead can be a gift; it can be the impetus that gets the group of friends together and lays the foundation for a good time. But a good time starts with an invitation, and the best invitation is one of joy, not one of anxiety. I need to acknowledge my gift for making plans and use it in a way that serves my relationships instead of taking away from them.

Day 1: I Celebrated Sukkot!

I was terribly excited when I found out that the first day of the Birthday Exercises corresponded with the first day of Sukkot! As a religious studies major, I read about this festival in my Hebrew Scriptures class, and when I lived in Boston, many of the families in my neighborhood set up sukkot (booths or tents decorated with branches) in their yards, and ate or visited in them throughout the festival. The lovely booths always impressed me as I past them on my autumn walks. Despite my religious studies major, however, I never experienced Sukkot first hand - and I'm embarrassed to say I've never been to services at a synagogue at all.

When I set off this morning, I was quite nervous. My best friend reassured me that the synagogue had surely seen visitors before and that I shouldn't worry - but then she added that none of its visitors had come as part of their extravagant "Birthday Exercises!" 

My nerves were assuaged when I arrived. (Forgive me, gentle readers for whom going to a synagogue is not a new experience, for the following rather detailed account.) Entering the synagogue felt like being in church: there was a comforting, welcoming, and reverent atmosphere that made me feel at home. Someone handed me a prayer book, and the rabbi announced the page numbers as we went, so I was able to follow along with the service. Our prayer books had Hebrew on the right-hand page and English on the other, which reminded me of the Latin-English Missal my mother used as a child. I wanted to let the prayers wash over me and get lost in their sound, but I also wanted to take in the meaning of the words. The words were heavy and heartfelt; I wanted to feel them on my tongue. 

After the preliminary prayers, the rabbi spoke about the meaning of Sukkot. I felt a bit guilty, because she began by congratulating the congregation on making it through the fast of Yom Kippur - but the rest of her words I could take to heart! She told us that the booths that families construct, and eat or sleep in during the festival, remind us of our vulnerability and challenge us to accept it - but that we are able to admit vulnerability when we know we are supported, both by God and by our community. And as a harvest festival, Sukkot emphasizes hospitality; the rabbi encouraged us to reflect on the ways we can invite others into our lives and our hearts. 

Then the lulav (a bundle of palm, willow, and myrtle branches) and etrog (or citron, a thick-skinned, fragrant citrus fruit) made their appearance. As the congregation continued to pray the psalms, we shook our lulavim and etrogim in six directions. The members of the congregation passed the lulavim and etrogim to those who didn't have them so that all had a chance to shake them. The young man standing behind me passed his to me, and I was amazed by the fragrance of the etrog. All around me, the branches rattled in a chorus, adding to our prayers.

When it was time for readings from the Torah, many people went onto the stage; throughout the reading of the Torah, many members of the congregation were invited to participate. Although I didn't always understand the structure of the service or each of its elements, it was easy to see the central place the Torah takes. [THEOLOGY NERD ALERT:] I felt awe for the scrolls themselves and the word of God that they contain which stayed with me through the day, and I was amazed by the way the reading of the Torah paralleled the Eucharist in so many ways, reminding me that we "do not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord." 

I absolutely loved this experience, but as I left the synagogue and made my way back to work, I felt uncomfortable with the idea that I might be exploiting someone else's authentic religious experience for the sake of an "adventure," and worried that my account would come off as flippant. But I know that this is more than an adventure; these exercises stem from a sincere desire to learn, be humbled, and be awed. 

WHAT I LEARNED TODAY:
Reverence and exuberance can coexist. I was excited to celebrate Sukkot, something that truly was a novelty to me, but that didn't take away from my understanding and appreciation of the sacredness of the experience. Respectful doesn't have to mean serious.
Admitting our vulnerabilities makes us open to greater gifts. It's humbling to admit we can't do it on our own, but the gifts and grace that God wants to give us are even better than what we could imagine.

HOW I LEFT MY COMFORT ZONE:
I went to completely unfamiliar religious services. As a self-avowed theology nerd, I spend a lot of time in Mass. It's as familiar as making French toast or mending a button. But today I was nervous when I walked into the sanctuary and got lost in my prayer book. It made me think of my peers who have spent a long time away from church or just don't come very often. How can I help them feel reverence and welcome, as I felt today?