A trip to the M&M’s World at Times Square. Three floors filled with candy and M&M branded merchandise ranging from pajamas to handbags (who buys this crap? Enough to pay the rent mid midtown).

We ascend to the second floor to claim our prize: M&M candy. So… many… people… Why are there so many people here? Why am I here (with a friend getting stuff for her kid)? People are filling their transparent plastic bags with chocolate covered goodness. An employee shouts, “People, I’m trying to help you out here. If you buy candy, you can get this *holding up M&M branded candy dispenser* for $15”

What a bargain, said I never.

I make a purchase. A thing of candy just set me back $15.89. Incredulous, I take my bag and walk out. The chocolate covered candy monster got to me too!

Trains used to run on these tracks. Once the trains stopped running, nature took its course and hid all trace of its past: providing milk, produce and meat to the city before interstate highways took over. Now, it’s a public space adorned with occasional art, baby trees and shrubbery. It’s the best place to feel the pulse of NYC, away from the desolate concrete jungle that is Manhattan.

We set a slow pace to observe, pause, and let others pass. We’re in no hurry to get nowhere.

Elevated walkway for people, not things.

Blue sky lights our path. Strong breeze embrace our bodies as we move. It’s not warm. It’s not cold. We can see the Statue of Liberty from here.

A man has out a box of “black lives matter” buttons while reading his book quietly. His narrow brimmed black hat sits atop of his graying hair. His pant legs are rolled up and his bare feet are wrapped in black sandals. We pick up a button before walking on. I pin mine on.

Unmarked building’s occupants display pictures on their windows to poke fun at the 45^th US president. It’s funny. It’s clever. We take pictures. Others do too.

We pass a small section in which approved vendors are selling their art.

Highline provides much-needed respite from the hustle and the bustle of the Big Apple.
We look down to witness the widening gap between the haves and the pauper. The man is unrecognizable. He blends in with the black trash bags all around him. He’s invisible. No one can see him but us (do you see him?). 

We look up. We walk on.

We pass a giant tattered letter that starts with, “I want a dyke for president….”

A ballerina jumps up and down. The photographer does her best to capture her subject.

We exit the Highline next to the Whitney museum. We descend to reality. It’s busy here.

Chelsea Market isn’t as busy. Something about a leaked gas line. We treat ourselves to fresh oysters and sushi.

We go deeper into the underground. We catch the train back to midtown.

I don’t know her. She must be a big deal. Someone steps in to fill the silence but there is nothing that can be done at this point. The big deal is upset.

How interesting. A founder of an organization brings people together to foster collaboration and entrepreneurship. Getting upset with an honest mistake of a visitor: not knowing who she is.

What does that say about people? Even the best falters and falls sometimes. And maybe that’s okay. She may not be at her best today, and that’s okay!

He’s wearing a pair of jeans and a tight fitting shirt.

The maestro steps up. He speaks gently to his orchestra before picking up a delicate baton with his right arm. With every movement, his arms flex effortlessly.

The baton makes soft and swooping loops to his left and right to awaken the violins and cellos. Melodious magic. His arms jerk and create violent upward movements to increase the tempo and introduce the drums.

All eyes are on him.

$20 is a bargain for the rehearsal. A part of me feels fear of missing the full-priced evening event, but I’m glad I’m here.

Not only am I hearing the music as they are created, but also the way the orchestra functions. The Conductor’s baton commands the musicians to dance, and they breathe life into their instruments.

Everything I hear is the orchestra’s execution of his delicate command.

Intermission

A piano is placed front and center, hiding the conductor from audience view. The power shifts to slender fingers of the man sitting in front of the grand piano. He is a world renowned pianist. His name is Jonathan Biss. The orchestra is no longer the main act.

The melody is complex; a cacophony of high-pitched chaos. My mind shakes into disarray. I feel a stir. It’s beautiful in its dissent.

The conductor stops the orchestra to correct a nervous violinist. She brings her clenched fist to her mouth. Few minutes later, it happens again. We can hear the Conductor’s every word. I’m sitting in the Mezzanine. I cringe.

After the first set finishes, the conductor shakes the pianist’s hand before giving a courteous feedback on his performance. He’s inaudible.

Life is just like the orchestra. Everyone plays his or her part. The conductor ensures the right tempo and mix of play. But even the Maestro may not be the main act from time to time. Based on the power dynamic, our engagement and interaction model changes to cater to the more powerful and well-known.

What we create today could have long lasting impact. L. Frank Baum’s wizard of Oz has been made into a movie and served as the muse for Wicked.

Glinda the Good vs. the Wicked Witch of the West. Glinda the glittery, beautiful, and all-around adorable is popular lady. Alfaba the Wicked Witch is green, ugly, malicious and evil to the core.

The musical questions our view of good vs. bad. Glinda is only ostensibly good. Alfaba is misunderstood.

Let me get back to Mr. Baum. Of the stories I’ve read, his has the most number of female heroines. Dorothy. Glinda. Even the Wicked Witch. Princess Ozma. The Evil Swan. Because his original story is full of women, Wicked is also full of women characters today.

Another buzzfeed titled, “29 Cheap Things To Treat Yourself To Right Now” comes across our news feed. This article is another reminder of our addiction to super consumerism, not living the life with intention and self-control.

1. Buy ________ because we’re worth it! We derive self-worth from the cheap consumer goods not who we are and what we do.
2. Buy ________ to give our hands something to do when we’re feeling nervous because its’ better to distract ourselves instead of dealing with the problem head on.
3. Buy ________ that will leave onlooker completely spellbound by our worthless crap because integrity and kindness cannot be worn on our sleeves.
4. Buy ________ with a dash of something totally ridiculous for snack emergencies because without it, we’ll die of malnutrition. 

Retail therapy doesn’t work. It drains our wallet and robs us of our time.

What we really need is true therapy. We need to fulfill the need to talk to ourselves. Contemplate. Let our minds wander. Eventually, we’ll need to talk to someone else. A professional perhaps. A good friend. A stranger. Someone who would listen and remind us to be kind to our worst critic: ourselves.

Instead of ignoring or finding coping (masking) mechanisms, let fear, resentment and shame wash over us. Try to understand why. Why we constantly feel this way, and ascertain the source of discomfort.

To dig deep, we need to eliminate distraction.

Stop shopping and start living.

“Trust me” He demanded, and refused to move.
(But I don’t even know you…)

I always book aisle seat whenever I fly and had the ticket stub in my hand: 27C. The legend on the bulkhead corresponded.

“Ask the flight attendant”, he demanded.

The flight attendant confirms the truth.

He moves without apologizing. Mumbles something about always requesting aisle seats.

I get a glimpse into his life. A bully who’s not used to being challenged. A bully who gets his way no matter what until someone steps up to question him.

It takes just one person to stand up to a bully.

My fingers were blue because I was cleaning out a Mont Blanc pen. It had been washed and tumble-dried by mistake by someone who got it from someone else. I cleaned it up for her. I’m not rich. I also can’t believe the pen costs $500!!!

In South Africa, where I live, we tip a flat 10%. I thought 20% would be appropriate… but I was wrong. I didn’t know that 20% is the bare minimum in New York! I’m sorry! I wanted to leave you an awesome tip for your stellar service!

You’ll do well in whatever you do.

Juliana’s is top 10 pizza joints in the USA. I can see why. Thanks for great service and yummy pizza.

Perception versus reality. What is the space in between? It could be anywhere from zero to infinity. Who do we surround ourselves with? To help check our blind spots and call us out on our bullshit? Tell us the truth that causes active discomfort?

Or do we run away from them? Into the safety net, to get tangled up into our web of lies?