Chronicles Continued

The Invitation from an artist friend read as follows:

‘The Analytical Psychology Club of New York presents Collage-a tool to visualize your innerself [sic]. Collage is an art form that involves combining images, drawings, words and other materials into an esthetic whole by glueing them together on a surface.  The term collage comes from the French coller, ‘ to glue’…. Because the artist’s choice of imagery and materials is very personal it can offer insights into thoughts and associations that are often hidden in our subconscious.’

[The Analytical Psychology Club of New York, formed in 1936 the purpose being to provide a gathering place for self discovery, the key to Jungian therapy.  Membership can be yours if you have completed 50 hours of Jungian-oriented therapy and have been recommended by a qualified therapist.  Most Club programs and events however are open to the public.  from their webpage]

So I signed on for the Saturday, Collage workshop from 10-4 guided by my artist friend.

Today I received the following email from her:

‘Hello again,

For those of you who were interested in the collage workshop, I just learned that the Saturday program is going to be deferred because of some internecine issues at the Psychologists’ Club.  I don’t know the whole back story, just that there is one. Hopefully the workshop will occur some time in the future.’

Now is that priceless or What!

 

For context check out the video on The Guardian [uk] website of the recently released footage of a young girl who apparently is intoxicated, steps out of the tube, can’t stay on her feet and rolls under the train. It seems so unlikely but the other night I was in a subway train that was halted. I was in the car next to the conductor who stands and sometimes hangs out of a window about mid-train. He was talking to a woman telling her he was not going to move the train until she got her friend past the turnstile. I was curious why this was important. It was about a 4 minute delay. Every time the friend tried to lead her drunk friend toward the turnstile, the drunk one would pull away and stand her wobbly ground. Finally he said, just go, she’ll follow you. Because the train doors were open and the car I was in was parked directly by the turnstile, I watched as indeed that was what happened. Obviously, he was afraid she could fall and roll underneath the train as shown in the video.

Look at the enclosed site for some great pictures.

These are really terrific photos…
They say more than I can write.
copy and paste to view.
http://www.theatlantic.com/infocus/2013/02/grand-central-terminal-turns-100/100451/

When a theatre production closes, there is a letdown. The cast and crew have worked, hopefully, closely together and intensely and then everyone departs to reality. I was on my way home and entered the subway station, dragging. I heard a gentle, not mournful, slide trombone playing. I found the player and as he was sitting on the only available bench, I walked past a group of ‘nice’ folk’ who weren’t going near him, and sat down. I laid my bags down, and put some money in his hat, that was laying on top of his soft-sided trombone case. He took a breathe and said ‘thank you’, to which I replied, ‘you’re welcome’. He then played a hymn. I looked at his face. It was weathered, gentle, again with clear eyes. I asked him if he would play some jazz, as, I said, ” you play so beautifully gentle’. The next song was so heart touching, it brought tears to my eyes. The subway train arrived and I got on. How I wished I had given him so much more. When am I going to get this!? Giving is never too much.

Have decided to once each day, give a compliment to a stranger. Did it to a young woman with the most amazing head of curly hair. It was cold outside and she had it pulled back and tamed, sort of, with a wide wool head band. I caught her completely off guard and it was clear she was pleased. Also it brought smiles to the faces of at least three other passengers. I don’t know whose reactions I enjoy more.

There are a lot of examples of how cold it is: colder than the witches body part, colder’n a well digger’s ***, cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey, kinda nipply out there…and all of it is true. Walking home today from a early afternoon appointment, at one point I hailed a cab… it was just too blustery and cold for walking. There is only one article of clothing that truly protects against this kind of cold: a fur coat. PETA is right, but if you buy one and keep it for 30 years, and especially one made out of pelts from animals that committed suicide in the wild, it’s ok.

A friend told me a great story. He had been picked up by an ordered car service. While riding, he placed a call to a business contact. He conducted the conversation in French. His second call was to someone who spoke another language, which he also spoke. After he hung up, he rode in silence, which was broken when the driver said, when you had the conversation in French, now that was cool, but when you had another conversation in yet another language, now I just think, you’re showing off….. they both laughed.

She looked like a New England Grandmother; dressed head to toe in navy:  rain resistant running pants, a navy anorak with hood, the only strange part was the rubber pad belted over her stomach. Her eyes were clear and her voice rather low, but articulate. She stopped me on the street and said ‘Do you have a dollar for lunch.” I engaged her eyes while my mind was whirring. The asking and the dress and persona did not match up. “Where do you live?” I asked. “Brooklyn”, she said. “Where in Brooklyn”, I asked. “Flatbush” she replied. “How is it you are here without money?” I asked. She just looked at me. She didn’t reply. She didn’t say, I don’t have any, didn’t give answer. All was still until she said again, “Do you have a dollar for lunch”. “Yes, I do.” I said, and walked off.

Just kidding. After I said “I do.” I reached into my bag and pulled out one dollar and gave it to her. As she walked on past me, I turned to watch her go. Did I mention she was New England Granny thin?. As I watched, I wondered why I hadn’t doubled the amount. Aren’t we all asking for something from someone? Some of us are asking for miracles from God. Which is rather like double your money. I could have played god.

Sitting on the bus when a small lady with an accent, approaches me and asks me for quarters.  She is holding a 20 dollar bill in her hand.  I ask her if she is needing the change for her ride.  She says yes.  I am perplexed that she has only $20, as most people have more small bills than large and she did not look particularly well-to-do. So I leave my seat and my bag on the seat, wallet in hand and approach the driver.  ‘There is a lady,’ I say, ‘who needs to have someone pay for a ride.’  I have an extra ride card in my hand. ‘ Don’t pay’, he says. I think I haven’t heard him correctly.  He puts his hand over the fare box.  ‘Don’t pay.  She does this all the time.  Why should we pay for it.’  He kept shaking his head, as obviously I was not swift at taking in his advice.  So I didn’t and returned to my seat.

..after a long rehearsal… had a hankerin’ and that is what is great about the City. One can pop into any one of a dozen restaurants within two blocks on 9th Avenue and take home your palate’s heart-desire.