The Wonder is in Your Eyes, Not in the Scene!

I remember the very first place of my own I had in the US.

It was a studio on the thirteenth floor of an apartment building on the Southwest corner of 113th street and Broadway. It must have been substantially renovated because I do not recognize it anymore.

On the ground level was a Pizza Parlor called Pizza Town. A slice of pizza cost 35 cents — the same as a NYC subway token. Two slices and a coke cost me a dollar and a nickel and the owner — or manager — would sometimes waive the five cents so I had a meal for a dollar. I am not sure how I would have survived without Pizza Town.

My studio was small. So small that even the rats were square shouldered. A tiny refrigerator came with it and the first time I opened it I heard a whisper and then a lot of scurrying. It was full of cockroaches.

The area was seedy and poorly lit. Bright sodium lighting was two decades away. Muggings were distressingly common. So common that I formulated my own strategy. If I was accosted by someone with a gun, I would hand over everything I had and pray. If I was accosted by someone with a knife I would run like hell. I could really run in those days. I frequently played five straight games of squash without taking a break.

Death Wish, the vigilante movie starring Charles Bronson, was set in that time period and in that geographical region.

So it was a pretty depressing time, right?

Au contraire!

I was having the time of my life.

I got to hang out with spiritual luminaries like Ram Dass and Swami Muktananda. Deshung Rinpoche, a senior monk of the Sakya tradition in Tibet, was at Columbia and I spent much time with him. His interpreter became my good friend and squash partner.

Looking back, I can see clearly that the ideas I was exposed to in those days shaped my life in foundational ways.

And the grime and filth and danger? I barely noticed them as I was in America. I had made it there on my own after much striving and the streets were paved with gold.

And that brings me to a valuable lesson I would like to pass on.

What happens to you matters — but just a little.

The stories you tell yourself about what happens to you, matter a great deal.

Be acutely aware of what these stories are and make sure they serve you well.

Peace!