The lights are on again in my city. I feel like a coal miner who's been trapped underground for a week and has finally been rescued to the surface. Not only electricity, but tap water, bathroom plumbing, heat from the radiators, gas for the stove, phone and even cellphones were non-functional. I live on the eighth floor, two flights connecting each floor. So with no elevators working, to come or go during the blackout meant 16 flights of pitch black stairwells to climb (there are 20 floors in my building, comprised of 40 banks of stairs to the top, so I had it easy).
People sometimes complain that you can't see the night sky, the beautiful stars and constellations, in NYC. That's true, but the twinkle of lights all over the city, often towering high, has its own magical beauty — you always know there's someone living or working behind every lit window, including your own window as one of those many thousands of lights. Looking out on the street this week, all those tiny apertures in my neighborhood had disappeared. Black, black, black, it was as if everyone had gone away, infinitely sad and painfully lonely, the sense of loss psychologically. Even so, I can't say why, but I would never want to delete any of that experience from my life path.
Sarah, thanks for pointing me to your reply here. What a very vivid description of your 'coal miner days', and thank you for reminding us of the twinkling lights that are an essential part of your beautiful city.
Wow. So how was it, coming and going during the blackout? The days must have seemed suddenly more special, with that sky light going on. Was it busy when you climbed those pitch black stairwells with other people doing the same?
That's a beautiful description of the twinkling lights. And I totally understand why you would never want to delete any of that experience. It must have been one of those interesting paradoxical times where I imagine you felt much weaker and yet also strangely much stronger all at the same time. Thanks for painting the picture of your experience.
A lot of people in the building evacuated immediately, many are elderly and couldn't possibly manage the stairs. So there was a loneliness inside the building as well as without. I had no place to escape to. Only two apartments on my floor were left with people in them. A doctor who lived on another floor I had never met, made me laugh when she knocked on the door wearing a miner's hat with a light on the front, and asked if I needed water — her question reminded me of that Japanese poem I had put on your blog!! Thanks for your insight on strength and weakness all in one!!!
Oh, the morning glory — It has taken the well-bucket I must ask elsewhere for water
I imagine then with so many people evacuated it must have been a very scary and lonely experience for you at times. How awesome that doctor was. People like that are truly roolly amazing and I'm so glad she lives in your apartment block and did what she did. That is the real human nature I think :)
Sue, thanks so much for your blessing !!
ReplyDeleteThe lights are on again in my city. I feel like a coal miner who's been trapped underground for a week and has finally been rescued to the surface. Not only electricity, but tap water, bathroom plumbing, heat from the radiators, gas for the stove, phone and even cellphones were non-functional. I live on the eighth floor, two flights connecting each floor. So with no elevators working, to come or go during the blackout meant 16 flights of pitch black stairwells to climb (there are 20 floors in my building, comprised of 40 banks of stairs to the top, so I had it easy).
People sometimes complain that you can't see the night sky, the beautiful stars and constellations, in NYC. That's true, but the twinkle of lights all over the city, often towering high, has its own magical beauty — you always know there's someone living or working behind every lit window, including your own window as one of those many thousands of lights. Looking out on the street this week, all those tiny apertures in my neighborhood had disappeared. Black, black, black, it was as if everyone had gone away, infinitely sad and painfully lonely, the sense of loss psychologically. Even so, I can't say why, but I would never want to delete any of that experience from my life path.
Sarah, thanks for pointing me to your reply here. What a very vivid description of your 'coal miner days', and thank you for reminding us of the twinkling lights that are an essential part of your beautiful city.
ReplyDeleteWow. So how was it, coming and going during the blackout? The days must have seemed suddenly more special, with that sky light going on. Was it busy when you climbed those pitch black stairwells with other people doing the same?
ReplyDeleteThat's a beautiful description of the twinkling lights. And I totally understand why you would never want to delete any of that experience. It must have been one of those interesting paradoxical times where I imagine you felt much weaker and yet also strangely much stronger all at the same time. Thanks for painting the picture of your experience.
A lot of people in the building evacuated immediately, many are elderly and couldn't possibly manage the stairs. So there was a loneliness inside the building as well as without. I had no place to escape to. Only two apartments on my floor were left with people in them. A doctor who lived on another floor I had never met, made me laugh when she knocked on the door wearing a miner's hat with a light on the front, and asked if I needed water — her question reminded me of that Japanese poem I had put on your blog!! Thanks for your insight on strength and weakness all in one!!!
ReplyDeleteOh, the morning glory —
ReplyDeleteIt has taken the well-bucket
I must ask elsewhere for water
I imagine then with so many people evacuated it must have been a very scary and lonely experience for you at times. How awesome that doctor was. People like that are truly roolly amazing and I'm so glad she lives in your apartment block and did what she did. That is the real human nature I think :)