One Fine Day

One fine day, I hope, the man I love will ask me out for a cup of tea. In the meantime, at the advice of friends, I am thinking about whether I can vibrate like that which I desire, to paraphrase Esther Hicks. The Universe, according to the Hicks, will give you what you want if you know how to ask for it and correct vibration is part of the key, as I understand it.

I'm wondering though, if that which I desire is a big old rugby player, just as an example, do I really want to imitate and emit the vibrations of a big old rugby player? And what if I should manage that with any amount of accuracy? What does that say about the big old rugby players I might attract? I'm 5'7" and barely 120 pounds. See the difficulty? I should probably actually read Esther Hicks' book before I try any of that, but last Saturday I thought I'd go to St. Patrick's Cathedral in NYC and spend some time in a beautiful and heavily vibrating Gothic Cathedral. I should mention that the man I love is Catholic.

Out in front of St. Pat's, it happened that the Hare Krishnas were having a parade down Fifth Avenue and I took some photos of their bright orange floats against the stately backdrop of the Cathedral. I was reminded of just how much fun it is to jump into the middle of a parade with a camera even though I don't have a press pass anymore. A New York City cop, when he's on parade duty, really doesn't care. It's exhilarating and you should try it.

Every time I walk into St. Patrick's, I regret that I haven't asked my sister, who married into the Catholic church, whether I'd offend anybody by being there, or whether I'm actually allowed to put any of the holy water on that knot in my forehead. I hate to mention it after the fact.

There was a wedding starting inside the vast space, lots of tourists, cameras, incense and candles. To the extent anyone was worshipping, it was in the Lady Chapel on the side and that's where I sat down. And so I listened and watched and thought about the Latin American man in the pew ahead of me, and the Polish being spoken behind me, and the flash of the cameras, and the lighting on the altar, and the random chords of the organ vibrating the pipes in anticipation of the bride. It was enough to sit very still and be thankful of the beauty and love that erected this sacred building and to notice the people it nurtures on a daily basis with its wide open doors, many of whom are virtually invisible to the larger society around them.

St. Patrick's Cathedral hosted many funerals and memorial services after September 11th since so many of the City's firemen and police officers are Catholic. It served so many and became the locus of a great deal of prayer and healing. It is one of my favorite places in the City and I always pass back through it's doors grateful but aware that I need to spend more time understanding the nuances of its faith and ritual.

My sister has already told me that as divorced non-Catholic, it is highly unlikely that I would ever be allowed to marry in the Catholic church. No matter. I am aware on this fine day that at this point it is also unlikely I will marry the man I love, because it actually looks doubtful that he'll get around to asking me out for tea. Uma Saraswati, a yoga teacher at Jivamukti, once pointed out that one of the nice things about yoga is that it teaches you that if you really love blue, but one day you get green instead, you don't let it ruin the entire day. Another view to consider when the Universe seems to be ignoring you.

With that in mind, I headed up to Central Park. I took a free fly-casting lesson offered by Trout Unlimited, sat and watched the herons in the pond next to Bethesda Fountain, and then cut across the park to Lincoln Center. When I asked a security guard at New York City Ballet whether the box office was open, he pulled out a free ticket he'd been given and handed it to me with a big smile. So I sat for the rest of the afternoon, and watched Wendy Whelan dance The Nightingale feeling that any day could really turn out to be a very fine day.