Discovering a River – How I Dealt With Stress After Moving to New York City.

Discovering a River

After taking an hour-long train from the overloaded and hustling Grand Central, we reach a small town in upstate New York commonly known as Peekskill. My husband and I have decided to spend our Friday afternoon on a two-hour cruise over the Hudson river, leaving behind the industrious and fast paced city life for a short while.

I am immediately struck by the contrast of sky scrapers on a normal day, to the magnificent mountains I see here. These majestic peaks harbor autumn trees singing of autumn colors. Glistening golds, coruscating crimsons, burning burgundies.

What is most striking is the river that shines in its vastness of the aqua blue, mirroring the clear sky above. From somewhere amid the light grey and yellow clouds takes wing a perfectly white seagull. I envy it as it soars into the horizon with all its blithe glory, carefree and proud. My mind drifts back to the city that is now my home, after I got married and moved from Pakistan. I try to focus on what I see, but my worries and fears come creeping back.

Life in New York city is charged with energy. There is a river that flows there as well, alive and intense, gushing amidst the streets, avenues and junctions. A river not of water, but an endless stream of people. People walking, peddling, driving, and riding. Millions of droplets in an enormous river of civilization.

It often takes me aback, making me stop dead in my tracks, as to how strong this populous current is, and how continuous. It reminds me of something I read in a Lemony Snicket  (Daniel Handler) novel once. There is a difference between nervousness and anxiety. He says that being nervous about a dessert means you are worried about how it would taste. If I were a tourist, I would probably be nervous about my trip to New York City, and whether it would be worth the money I paid for it. Living here however, I realize that I am anxious. He likens anxiousness to being served an alligator, leaving you to wonder whether you would devour it or it would devour you. The stress of this suspense gets to me more and more, with each new step that I take in the city. Am I going to create shiny waves of my own, or will this current drown me?

My train of thought is broken momentarily by the sound of a child’s chuckle. Now and then, parents point at something for their children to see and the little ones stare wide eyed and amazed at the wonders that this little world beholds. Quite like the boat itself, however, most of the passengers on it are relatively old. Everything and everyone is surrounded by the serene tranquility of nature. Slow music is playing in the background but nothing can be heard after a while once the strong and steady waves dominate all sound, creating an elegant rhythm of their own.

My eyes keep going back to the immense vastness of the land and how the distances seem to make everything look so far apart. Yet even this vastness seems to have a sensuality that is felt strikingly in the scent of the crisp air and sweet river below. The sunlight gently touches the skin, then leaves, allowing the air to playfully maneuver in and around the ears, causing a slight nose tingling and spine chilling sensation. Silent conversations with nature ensue.

I inhale the sweetness and let out a deep long breath. The gratifying release provides an insight. For the first time since I have moved here, I feel as if I am one with the river. This river that is so full and constant. I feel an instant relieve from the former stress and anxiety, as the gentle tide calms me. I move along with it, knowing that I am part of a much grander scheme of things.

I can now tell that we are almost at the end of the cruise as tiny flickering lights of the city can be seen from an expanse, indicating that land is close by. Pretty soon we will be hit by the same stormy waves of civilization that we encounter every day. Life, henceforth, moves at its usual pace yet again.

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