Balancing Acts

One thing I considered when deciding to go freelance was that I would get additional chances to take off during a workday and hit events and exhibits that need coverage on one of the (now many) blogs I work for. I saw it as a way to do more of the things I love: take in a museum or different part of the city, fill my brain with some new knowledge, shoot a few pics here and there. And now I'm doing it. But it's never quite as glamorous as it seems like it should be. [I only use "glamorous" because that's the adjective I keep hearing from people when I tell them what I do now. I do not know the correct descriptor yet, but I do know that "glamorous" is not the first one that springs to mind.] There's a lot of planning ahead, especially when it comes to making sure that the projects needing immediate attention are taken care of (always the case when you've got daily blog deadlines). And like anything in life, sometimes you plan something, then another thing comes along last minute, and you simply have to readjust. It's nothing different than I've done before, really; but, it's still a constant challenge to make sure everything is balanced just so. I am trying to learn, now more than ever, to just give myself a break. This business of mine is so new; there's no way I can know how to do everything just right just yet. I'm giving it time. And, if you happen to know me personally, you know that this is a much-needed exercise for me.

My latest outing, though, went off without much of a hitch: a trek to the Noguchi Museum in Long Island City. I went to cover it for Herman Miller (see that post here). And if you don't think you know the artist Isamu Noguchi, I am willing to bet that you actually do: his coffee table from the 1940s is pretty iconic. (Check it here.) (Right? You totally know it.) (Bonus: he's also the namesake of one of my favorite Tumblrs.) His museum is about a 15-minute walk from the subway, and it's one of those that you enter and then suddenly feel like you're no longer in NYC. It's very quiet, not too packed, not too busy. (Noguchi, who helped design the interior, didn't even want signage on the walls; he felt like you needed to experience his work on its own instead of just reading about it.) Noguchi was a sculptor, among other things, and the smartly designed space showcases a lot of his stonework. It's raw and imposing at times, but also remarkably approachable. After a little while, I felt this overwhelming urge to touch the sculptures, to throw my arms around them. (I mean, I didn't. But I really, really wanted to.)

In the back courtyard of this museum, there also happens to be a beautiful outdoor sculpture garden, and it is the type that I, of course, described in my Herman Miller post as "an oasis." Because it is -- a place, in fact, that you could melt into. It was welcoming and calming...one in which somebody has surely led a meditation class or held a downward-facing-dog pose or played one of those Native American flutes or debated whether or not to hang a wind chime. The seating is low and comfy. The landscaping is wild but not too wild. The cafe inside probably serves green tea. And there's that whole running-water sound going on. It was a space that I really needed right then. The whole of my being, my tired, still-recovering-from-the-mental-and emotional-exhaustion-of-this-freelance-decision self craved it like candy. I just needed to sit down and be there and breathe it all in.

But I didn't.

Maybe it's because I felt like I was there to work; maybe it was because I was there alone. Mostly I think it was because there were words to write and emails to respond to and meeting invites to accept and this nagging, overarching fear that, if I wasn't home to do them all immediately and perfectly and in a manner that seemed not stressed at all, I would lose every client, and every means to pay my bills.

This is not the case, of course. But I am still a student here, and I am trying to allow myself the space and time to really learn it. Wish me luck. And also, eventually, the awareness to sit down and enjoy the garden every once in a while. (Though minus, like, a Native American flute playing. I could seriously always do without that.)