The Gold at the End of the Rainbow was Two Heaping Bins of Compost

After her initiatory subway ride, Nina is officially a city kid. For now. It both amuses me and stabs me right in the heart to write this, which is why I need the “for now” part. A little something soothing on the wound. 

She seems to be doing well with all of the changes. Gliding along, open as a flute, letting life play through her whatever the song of the day might be. She is my anchor here, for I am very overwhelmed right now and feeling much sadness. It is nice to feel, and not run, know there is nowhere to run to. When I am in a good space overall, being true to myself etc., sadness is one of my favorite feelings to behold. It is rich and reminds me of where my heart is. And many beautiful thing come of it. 

One such beautiful thing goes like this: at the end of a really harrowing few hours at Union Square, having attempted to do a yoga class at the 14th street studio which aggravated me on many levels, pushed my way through a shoulder-to-shoulder packed depressing Whole Foods, shelves lined with “healthy” packaged processed food, for two lamb shanks and an avocado, I got to the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Which was, two heaping bins of compost on the north side of Union Square park. You see, it is illegal to compost here in NYC, by which I mean it is illegal to use compost in your yard or garden or wherever. Luckily, there is the farmer’s market—or the green market as it’s more commonly called here. They collect the city-dwellers’ food scraps and use them on their farms. I had heard about this but was not sure whether it was fact or fiction. But I finally made it, tired and disenchanted, lugging two bursting freezer bags of food scraps, to the other side of the park, where I saw two mounds of shimmering apple skins, watermelon rinds, and wilted lillies infested with fat green gossamer flies. Happy were the flies and happy was I, in this little moment.


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