DRESSING FOR NEW YORK IN WINTER

 This is the most Payson and I have traveled in a short time. A 6 days sailing trip to Catalina, and after a break of three days in which the main tasks were taking care of business and repacking, an almost two week trip to New York, just for the hell of it. I have been mulling over the difference between my packing strategies for both.

Catalina was simple: it was warm, and camping-like, though Payson and I stayed at a hotel for five nights after we landed in Catalina; there wasn’t much space on the boat and Steve and Melanie, who sailed us over, had their two twin daughters visiting over thanksgiving. The boat was 31 feet, and though they generously offered to put us up in one of the two cabins, + the couches that turned into beds, I decided I needed for privacy for my always-secret-agenda: which was to get up in the morning and write. I took two, maybe three changes, the necessary meds, and some favorite treats.

I am not going to live any differently in New York, I told myself while I was packing for New York. We have an apartment, and because of the cold, I am going to spend a great deal of time in it because my favorite holiday is that in which I can hole up and go slowly, rest, write, stretch, and when I feel like it, venture out. Other than two appointments for which I feel I need to look a little dressy, and some hanging out with friends, I wouldn’t need much.

Why then did I sweat so much over my wardrobe? New York! Embedded subliminal images of glamor that you feel you need to keep up with. I feel cold, so I had to be warm, but when I tried on my long down jacket, Payson said I looked like a Gollum. Very appropriate word, not only in the Yiddish sense, but also in the Indian. Gol in Hindi means round. I do not consider myself slim, having much too much of an Indian body; but reflux keeps me from putting on too much weight, thank heavens.

I felt bad, only because I was thinking -- New York! The Big Apple! If one is not aware – and I wasn’t – one acts out of the unconscious part of the psyche in which media images guide one’s actions. For example, whenever I shopped earlier and tried on clothing, I imagined myself in different scenarios, sparkling in it. I imagined so and so being envious of my outfit and on and on. Now, I buy for comfort, pleasing only myself, and pleasing myself well. 

So I ended up packing more than I should have.  I wanted to look good. Of course, and why not? I like to keep up, not let myself go.

But this weather makes us all look like Gollums. You have to bundle up, put on layers upon layers, and cover yourself from head to toe. Warmth is of the essence, not fashion.

A lovely snow flurry is falling as I look out of the window right now, not bundled up, but warm and cozy inside with a cup of chai. 

NEW YORK AS THE UNDERWORLD

I don't know what I was thinking when I said to Payson, "Yes! Let's go to New York in December!" I commend my adventurousness and youthful folly, I mean it, because I was getting quite sedentary in my ways, unwilling to travel. So, since the 25th of November, we have taken two vacations: First, a sailing trip to Catalina -- more of that later -- and New York, for yet another week. Payson found us a lovely little two level apartment on the Upper East Side, tiny, as New York apartments are, but quite adequate for our purposes. I was quite thrilled to see it, actually, and thought it would be a wonderful place to hole up in for a couple of weeks. It's not that I forgot it would be cold; I hoped for snow which I haven't experienced in sunny So Cal for several years; I was even aware that it might be so cold that I wouldn't be able to do too much outdoors, though I did see myself roaming the streets in Union Square or the Village, window shopping, popping into a cafe to have soup or something hot. I even hoped in a way that it would be too cold to go out and I would stay warm and cozy indoors to accomplish a fairly important task of getting into my next project which required like a hundred hours of cleaning up of files before I could begin to think of landscaping the garden that I plan to make. So, I was wise enough to come up with all the scenarios so that I could plan my reaction to even the worst of them. The worst, when faced in advance, and planned for, can turn out to be the best. But more of this later.

But yesterday was quite hellish and I am grateful for the perspective that allowed me to see New York as the underworld. Once I had this mythic view, the hellish day became quite interesting, though tiring. Let me describe it. My first view of it as such came as we were driving back from the airport with friends -- R&S -- who came to pick us up in a limo. We have missed the beauty of fall and are in the heart of winter, the few remaining desiccated leaves hanging on to their mother trees like long withered desires, afraid to let go, and too old to hang on. The telephone and electricity wires looked like the entrails of a beast that had died and left them suspended above our heads. The high, narrow concrete walls of towering apartments buildings that block out the sky looked like the tunnels of hell.

Yesterday while Payson was away visiting with his brother, Larry (two blocks from us) -- one of the main reasons of our visit here -- I decided after several hours of doing the above cleaning up of files, to venture out onto the streets. I was quite bundled up in my long black down coat, a thick hat, scarf and gloves, wheeling a small bag to carry back groceries in, and could have passed for one of the many homeless black women (and men -- hard to tell the sex of the bundles sometimes) on the New York streets. The chilling wind was so strong it almost blew off my glasses as I stepped out of the building. Even after I adjusted them back on, my eyes watered so much I could barely see a few feet ahead of me. I thought I would escape it momentarily by ducking into a shop that displayed fleece-lined leggings  which I have been looking for. I tried to open the thick glass doors and couldn't budge them. I had to pull with both hands before I could open them enough to put a booted foot in the door. There were two of them, and by the time I opened both, I felt I had used up all my breakfast calories. The lady in the store gave me a very suspicious look, especially since I was carrying a wheely -- shoplifter come to clean us out! I didn't spend much time there before I headed out again. I won't describe the rest of the experience walking to the grocery story and shopping in New York on a Sunday when the hoards are out, of the futile search for items on my list, of the mile-long lines lined by isles with all sorts of junk that I piled into my basket because I didn't want to make the trip again. You get the idea.

I returned gratefully to the apartment battling my way through the tearing winds and made myself a cup of tea.

The day wasn't over. By no means. We were going for a dance concert to Brooklyn with our friend Arny and that meant rides in the subway. If you haven't seen the entrails of an underground beast, these are they. The tunnels of hell being ridden by people who are so unhappy at their condition that all they do while riding is play senseless games on their phones. The bright and brilliant light of the whole experience with the sound and sight of a black man in dreadlocks playing the steel drums. It was Orpheus before he found and lost Eurydice, again.

Just one more insight from Payson before I quit and return to that clearing I spoke about. Or at least, to a bath. Today I stay holed up the whole day, loving it. In New York, Payson says, people live in boxes. If you are poor and homeless, it is a literal cardboard box; if you are the working poor, in a small box, and if you are one of the richest, you live in a big box. But it is still a box.

TO BE CONTINUED, PERHAPS.

ALLIES IN AGING, or KINDNESS TO THE BODY, or LOVELINESS IN OLD AGE

As my parents grew older, they became rather fond of small scissors. Both of them at various times asked me to get some from the market, or the US. I wondered why. Dad was a good Sikh and I don’t believe he cut a hair in his life; my mother, too, though she is fond of plucking and preening, had no use for them in her grooming. It is only recently, after turning 66 myself, that I know why.

I have always torn packaging, even plastic ones, with my hands, impatiently ripping it open.  I have used my teeth too, though Payson has always thought me quite a jungly for doing so – his mother was a dentist.

Now things have changed. My wrists have been hurting lately and my fingers, too. I find scissors, especially small ones, very handy and have put several on my Wish List for when I return from New York and can receive mail again. I think of them as my allies.

ALLIES, ah yes, allies. Implements that make the task easier and make up for old age are allies. Good knives in the kitchen, Playtex gloves to wash dishes to keep aging hands from drying out, good grip can openers, which I also intend to order, good pruners for the garden, smaller watering cans so I don’t have to lift heavier ones, stools to sit upon as I pack or weed. Comfortable boots, clothing that is not tight, hearing aids, good glasses, good creams that moisten my hands and lips. I have discovered Shea butter, which I adore. I ordered a slab of raw Shea butter over a year or two ago, thinking I would make it into a cream. But laziness and lack of time made me finally just chip off a piece of it. It melted with my touch and I found I could use it raw by warming it in my hands and applying it to my face, too, and my hair.

I no longer use any of the expensive leather handbags I own and which I have loved, but travel with a very light rip-stop nylon backpack that has practically no weight of its own: no heavy leather, metal or clasps. It is so lightweight that I can fill it with all the things I need and it still feels like air. Convenience and comfort, kindness to my body takes precedence over appearance now. 

Appearance not withstanding, I still feel great about my self and feel I am lovelier now, inside and out, than I have ever been before. 

FINAL LIST OF BLURBS FOR MY BOOK

ENDORSEMENTS

Kamla Kapur has created a Sikh parallel of Homer's Odyssey in the re-imagining of its founder's spiritual journey, cleverly recounted in the voice of a mercurial acolyte.  As with that work, the prose melts into mellifluous poetry, music to the soul.  In company with the Sikh spiritual leader, Guru Nanak, we travel from magical place to magical place throughout India and are reminded again and again of what values should inform our life. You wait until the saga is over to exhale and still wish there were more.  A ripping read.

Thomas Hoover, author of Zen Culture and The Moghul

"Kamla Kapur chooses an innovative and wondrous way of retelling the eternal truths contained in the life and teachings of Guru Nanak. Her simple, melodious narrative depicts common human frailties and deep philosophical complexities with equal ease: The Singing Guru will delight the mind even as it enlightens the spirit."

Navtej Sarna, author of The Book of Nanak and The Exile

Rich imagination, anchored by the spirit of the Janamsakhi tradition, brings alive the story of Guru Nanak Dev, the founder of Sikhism. Kamla Kapur has written a gripping book in a style that is both simple and lucid. Her reinterpretation of the Janamsakhis should find wide resonance among readers.

Roopinder Singh, author of Guru Nanak: His Life and Teachings

The Singing Guru is simply superb!

Surjit Patar, renowned Punjabi poet

“The Singing Guru is a fascinating reconstruction of the Purantan Janamsakhi tradition.  I teach a course on South Asian Literary Cultures and a work like this would make an engaging text for students to read.”  

Harpreet Singh, Department of South Asian Studies, Harvard University

I am filled with utmost happiness in my heart going through The Singing Guru and discovering a way to enlightenment. We can only imagine Guru Nanak singing 500 years ago and I congratulate the author on her wonderful, enthusiastic story and the underlying music that fills it.

Hans Raj Hans, Punjabi Rock star and Sufi singer.

“The Singing Guru is indeed a remarkable work of imagination through which Kamla Kapur brings alive the story of Guru Nanak in the voice of his lifelong companion Bhai Mardana. This retelling of Janam-sakhi narratives is breathtaking in scope, refreshingly innovative and written in accessible style. It will make an interesting read for both academic and popular audiences. The author deserves our compliments for her rare achievement.”

Pasahura Singh

Professor and Dr. Jasbir Singh Saini Endowed Chair in Sikh and Punjabi Studies

University of California, Riverside

WHAT I'VE BEEN UP TO AND WHY I'VE BEEN REMISS IN POSTING

The book, The Singing Guru, is finally done! Last edit over! Some great blurbs which will be my next post. A six day sailing trip to Catalina Island with our sailor friends, Steve and Melanie Mandel. Will post pictures shortly. Off to New York the day after tomorrow for almost two weeks, to 'swank about.' Started my next project, completing Book I of the trilogy, MALINI IN WHIRLWOOD.

Will get serious about the blog again SOON.

IT IS OLD AGE! A PICTURE!

I thought to myself, oh go paint your face! A little lipstick, some eyeliner. Don't show all the wrinkles on your neck! Though I didn't do any of these things, I did take five photos in the Photo Booth before selecting one, the one in which I looked half way decent. After months of not wearing any jewelry, I did decide to wear pieces given to me by Payson. Yes, it's old age, but I like I said, I love myself more now than ever before!

YOU COULD CALL IT OLD AGE, OF COURSE

. . . but whatever it is that makes me prefer, even love this virtual life, is a marvelously good thing. If this inner satisfaction with my reclusive life is a function of aging, then all the power to old age! I am more contented than I have ever been. I know better than to think this is a permanent state. When the book, THE SINGING GURU comes out, I will have to do some hustling and bustling. But this down period is rest and preparation for it.

And then, of course, some travel is coming up!