My Quiet New York ... by Anna Taylor Sweringen

Being a native New Yorker the roar and rush that is the normal pace of the city ran in me from sunrise to sunset. I took for granted how the city never sleeps, even if I rarely took advantage of the attractions that draw most tourists there like the Chrysler Building and Radio City Music Hall.

New York at Night

Yet amid the famous and infamous pace attributed to NYC, the city gave me a soul-satisfying quiet that kept me anchored in what was important to me. I think that’s why my favorite song from the musical Hamilton is Quiet Uptown. The song is a reminder that New York has places of quiet that soothe and calm.

Four Freedoms Park

This is a view of the UN from Four Freedoms Park. Located on the south end of Roosevelt Island, the park is a tribute to FDR’s famous four freedoms speech. I’d go there and just sit and let the quiet calm of the East River wash over me.

Promenade and Ferry

Another of my quiet places was the Brooklyn Promenade. You’d think a walkway built over a highway would be noisy, but sitting on one of the benches with Brooklyn Heights behind and the lower Manhattan skyline before always filled me with peace. I got the same sense of stillness riding the best free water ride available: the Staten Island Ferry. Just looking at this photo I can smell the ocean and the feel of the breeze on my face as I gazed at Lady Liberty.

The grandeur of the 42^nd street branch of the New York Public Library worked its magic on me too.  I’d go to the main reading room, fondly remembering thumbing through the old card catalogues then requesting a book and sitting on the bench until my number appeared until I could pick it up just like in the scene in Breakfast At Tiffany’s.

New York Public Library Reading Room

Now it’s a research library now but the majesty of the murals painted in tribute to the written word instills a sumptuous stillness of their own.

New York Public Library Murals

It’s no coincidence that my contemporary stories are located in the quiet places I’ve claimed in Harlem, too. St. Nicholas Park. City College. Strivers Row.

Harlem - St. Nicholas Park, City College, Strivers Row

It’s not only quiet uptown but all over the city if you know where to look. I hope you’ll be able to experience my quiet New York someday.

Haunted Harlem

 

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My personal peace...

According to the online Oxford Dictionary of English, peace can mean freedom from disturbance and/or tranquillity; or, mental or emotional calm; or, a state or period in which there is no war or a war has ended.

In no particular order, here are five things that bring me personal peace, i.e. tranquility and mental calm:

Baking – I’ve only recently come to realize that baking for family and friends is my love language. Hey, I’m a slow learner. Not only does time spent in the kitchen with flour, sugar, butter, and eggs fill me with a sense of peace, but it also brings me joy when the fruits of my labours are enjoyed by those I care for. 

 

Knitting – An excuse to sit and let my thoughts wander while being productive. Like day dreaming with permission, hehe. Particularly calming are dish cloths knitted with a pattern I make up on the fly. Quick, easy, and if I purl when I should have knit, no one will care about the goof because the dish cloth will still do its job. No pressure.

Photo by Margarida Afonso on Unsplash

Camping – What I’ve called communing with nature is what some now call forest bathing. I’ve been reaping the benefits of camping under the stars, far away from civilization, for years. Sure I miss the flush toilet, sure I curse the biting bugs, but watching the moon glimmer on the lake whilst I’m serenaded by loons and owls is worth the primitive conditions and the occasional itchy bite. And waking to the sounds of birds tweeting, squirrels chattering, and frogs practicing their diving is something I treasure. Even the astoundingly loud patter of rain on the tent is calming.

Kayaking – Exercise whilst sitting, surrounded by the mysterious depths of ocean, lake, or stream. Though the streams I’ve explored aren’t terribly deep, so there’s not much mystery, unless the flash of a fish catches my eye and makes me wonder what species it is. The lake is a bit more mysterious, but I’m pretty sure the dark water is hiding only fish, diving turtles, and slimy weeds. I find the ocean a bit scary so I tend to not think about what lies in wait beneath the surface. (Particularly in recent years when Great White Sharks have been spotted in my area.) I’ll happily sit and let the tide or wind carry me where it will whilst I watch the Ospreys fish, wait for the Great Blue Heron to catch something, and pray the seagull doesn’t poop on my head.

Pulling weeds – Another mindless and productive activity that allows for wandering thoughts, and gives me something to show for the time spent outdoors in the sun. I’m striving for a meadow rather than a lawn and so am judicious in the weeds I pull. They are just misplaced wildflowers after all. I have a large planting of what is called bog thistle that I’ve decided needs to go – it’s in the way of foot traffic to and from the hen house. But I’ll wait until late fall to dig it up so the goldfinches will have time to feast on the seeds.

Photo by Gary Fultz on Unsplash

What all these activities have in common is they give me time and space for my thoughts to wander. I can’t tell you what I’m contemplating as I sift flour or wind yarn, not because it’s a scandalous secret (I wish! Wouldn’t it be fun to hold a scandalous secret?) but because it’s ho-hum stuff like “I wonder what that bug is” or “the neighbour’s dog WILL NOT SHUT UP!” or “I wish I had pre-cut parchment paper for my round cake tins”. After a while, even those thoughts fade and I’m left with a feeling of tranquility, a large pile of weeds added to the compost pile, or a few dozen ginger snaps.

Luanna Stewart has been creating adventures for her imaginary friends since childhood. She spends her days writing spicy romance ranging from contemporary to paranormal. When not torturing her heroes and heroines, she’s in her kitchen baking something delicious. She lives in Nova Scotia with her patient husband, two spoiled cats, and five hens.

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