The morning after the New York City Marathon, Anastasia and I went for one last walk in Central Park. We kept seeing people with medals hanging around their necks. They'd run the day before, and here they were, out for a walk, still wearing them.
There was something about seeing those medals resting against people's chests that stayed with me. I imagined what it took to get around that course, and how good it must feel to be able to say, quite plainly, “I did this.”
I'm recording this from Loveland, Colorado, just before we begin Love, Relationships & You. New York is still fresh in my mind, and those people in the park are part of why this trip has felt like a homecoming.
The city I hadn't expected to find
A week earlier I was writing from our cabin on the Queen Mary 2. After all that sea, we arrived in New York and went for a walk in Central Park on a beautiful autumn day.
It had been about a decade since I'd been in the city. What I noticed this time was how easily people acknowledged each other. Someone would say good morning in the lift. A conversation would start while people were out walking their dogs. Anastasia and I would look at each other afterwards, a little surprised at how often it happened.
I love Europe and miss it when I'm away, but I don't miss how reserved we can be with strangers. In a lift back home, I'm used to people looking at the buttons and getting on with their day. Coming back to America reminded me how much I love it when a stranger says hello and a conversation starts from there.
A crowd of strangers
By Halloween weekend the city felt packed. The marathon was the next day, and the noise and the crowds were a lot for both of us. We couldn't imagine being out in it all day.
What we could see was how many people had made time to stand along the route. They'd made signs and were cheering for runners they'd never met. Think about how it feels to be a long way into a run like that and hear a stranger call out to encourage you.
Manhattan was one of the last places I'd have expected to feel that kind of closeness. I've spent time in places that are set up to be intentional communities, and this was a whole city doing something together for an afternoon. When we saw the medals in the park the next day, I thought about the people who had stood on the pavement willing those runners to get there.
What happens when we let ourselves be proud
In shadow work, one of the harder things I see people try to say is “I'm amazing.” They can often tell you quite readily where they've fallen short. Ask them to name something they did well and there's a good chance they'll tell you why it wasn't such a big deal.
There's a difference between asking to be admired and letting yourself feel pleased about something you actually did. Even saying “I did this, and I'm proud of it” can feel quite exposing if you've spent years trying to make sure nobody thinks you're full of yourself.
You can try it with something small. Think of a thing you followed through on that took some effort. Tell someone you trust what you did and how you feel about it. See if you can finish the sentence before you start explaining why it doesn't count.
What I'm bringing to Colorado
In Manhattan we also walked into a chocolate shop that had been open for only two weeks. When some other customers heard that, they got out their phones and started telling people to come and support it. They'd just discovered this place themselves, and they wanted the owner to have a chance.
That's the spirit I've carried from New York into Colorado. It's in the pleasure of watching another person do something they've worked hard for, and letting them see you take pleasure in it.
We're here for Love, Relationships & You, with Accelerated Awakening later in November. I'm looking forward to being in circle with our American community again. It feels good to be back.
Hugs,
Christian
