Journal: June 1/25
Lilac Trees and Flickering Lights, Sailing Takes Him Away, Commando Ginger, Havens’ Magic, Maya Knows, Sharing the Gospel.
June 1, 2025
New York City
Greetings, Earthlings.
I've been in an extended rough patch, filled with anxiety about the future. I know I’m not alone in this. LinkedIn tells me that many people are struggling. Facebook and other social channels are filled with worries, outrage, and sadness about the state of the world.
In my case, over the past 12 months, again and again, I got ever-so-close to events that would have changed my fate for the better, only to have them evaporate at the last moment.
Many people my age are property owners, and some have even retired. Neither of these things looks to be in the cards for me. I’m not getting any younger, and I have so much uncertainty about my life.
One of the things I often used to say to Emma (my daughter) is that everyone is dealt a hand of cards in life. As life goes on, sometimes the cards will change for the better or worse. Sometimes you have an extended unlucky streak, like the one I’m in now. All you can do is play the cards to the best of your ability. “You gotta know when to hold ‘em,” etc. I guess my analogy had some impact as Emma now has a hand of cards tattooed on her arm.
My other bit of sage advice that I’d repeat to her often is that life has seasons, and sometimes it has to snow and rain. Sometimes it seems like winter will never end. But it does, eventually. You just have to persevere, and, if you can, build a nice warm fire while you wait. In a full-circle moment, Emma recently boomeranged my own advice, leading with “As a wise man used to say…” I needed to be reminded, and I’m grateful for her thoughtfulness.
Some things happen because of choices we make, and some things happen over which we have no control. So it goes. “To every thing turn, turn, turn…”
I’m of the age where I’ve seen some friends and acquaintances make their exits: some fighting disease, some by twist of fate, and others by their own hand. I’m still here, I sometimes think to myself. I still have that winning lottery ticket.
A few days ago, on a walk through Central Park with a friend, we passed a massive lilac tree, filling the air with its incredible scent. The sun was out, and the park was busy. The people in front of us were remarking on how beautiful the smell was and how pretty the flowers were. An older man said to his grandson, “This is one of my favourite smells in the world. Breathe it in!”
I was reminded of my late Grandmother, who loved Yardley’s (British, of course) lilac-scented soap. I used to buy it for her at Christmastime.
My friend mentioned to me, with fondness, that his family home had featured three large lilac trees in three colours.
A simple tree, inspiring so much emotion, memory, and sensory pleasure.
Last night, I was out running an errand. The sun was setting, and Manhattan’s streets were bustling as ever. Couples dressed up and on their way out for the night, deliveries being rushed hither and thither on e-bikes, tourists snapping photos. I stood on a corner waiting to cross.
Two teenagers passed a joint back and forth.
“Look at that, man!” said one kid, hair in his face, pointing with his hand, still holding the smouldering joint.
“Wooooooww!” said the other kid.
I looked up, too. Everyone standing there did.
In the distance, a building surrounded in glass and steel flickered, strobed, and twinkled, reflecting the lights from the traffic, an ambulance, and what was left of the sunset.
“Isn’t that amazing?” the first kid said out loud, to no one in particular.
Then he turned to all of us standing behind him.
“Isn’t that amazing?”
His friend started to laugh at him. Some people ignored him, some chuckled. But we all looked up and saw the dancing lights.
Then a woman—middle-aged, Mom vibes, a bit hippy-dippy, probably a tourist— reached out, touched the kid’s shoulder gently, and said, “It’s beautiful.”
It was.
The light changed, and we all surged forward.
“You guys be careful. Take care,” she said to the two young men as we crossed.
“We will!” one said, not looking back, as we all scattered into the noise and hustle of the evening, never to cross paths again.
The future, they say, is not promised. We have these moments, these memories.
Sometimes that has to be enough.
Sometimes it is.
Digital Sushi: Freedom
Digital Sushi is a small collection of curious things I’ve found online, loosely grouped around a theme.
This time, we’re focused on freedom. Not the fireworks-and-flag kind, but the weird, soulful, sometimes hilarious ways people slip off the leash.
Whether it’s quitting your job to sail the world, hiking without underwear, or belting “Freedom” at Woodstock, it’s all here—plus Maya Angelou, who reminds us what it means to sing even when caged.
⛵️ Living The Dream
This guy quit a job he hated after 11 years, liquidated his savings, sold everything he owned (“except my cat”), and bought a sailboat to sail the world. He went viral.
Follow his adventure on IG here.
🍆 Letting It All Hang Out
This young man explains why he prefers the freedom of commando hiking on the hilariously-named “Outdoor Ginger Channel.”
🎸 Improvised Genius
Richie Havens performs an incredible, soulful rendition of “Freedom,” based on the traditional Black Spiritual “Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child,” at Woodstock.
He had run out of material, but the band that was to follow him was late, and they needed him to fill the time. As he recalled, “I'd already played every song I knew and I was stalling, asking for more guitar and mic, trying to think of something else to play – and then it just came to me ...”
Something about this performance always makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. His voice, raw from already having sung for an extended time, coupled with the percussive, unrelenting guitar, and, of course, the lyrics, make for something really special and of-the-moment.
🐦⬛Caged Bird
Maya Angelou reads her powerful poem, “I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings.”
Reco
I’m a confirmed atheist, but there’s some religious music that I really enjoy. Black American Gospel in particular.
Here are just a couple of my faves:
ICYMI
Speaking of Central Park, here’s a video I made as an experiment about three years ago.
I was new to my camera and video editing, and needed to invent a project to force me to learn stuff, so I decided to do a vlog about something I do almost every day—visit Central Park.
Some of this I like and some makes me cringe, but I’m embracing “learning in public” and “being brave enough to suck,” coincidentally also the title of my very first Substack post, way back in 2021, when I started it to avoid being driven insane by the pandemic (it failed and I went insane, but I enjoyed it anyway so kept going, in spurts.)
I enjoyed the process of making the video, so I hope to get back to them in some form or fashion in the future.
Enjoy the cringe!
PS: For the record, Famous Amadeus has been usurped by Little Italy Pizza as my neighbourhood fave.
Thanks for reading.
XO
C.
Hidden Tracks
Songs referenced in this post: