Have you ever been somewhere and felt as if you had been there before, even though you know you had never been? And have you ever met someone and had the same prevailing sensitivity? This profoundness of knowing has happen a few times in my life: Predominantly with a city and more recently with a man—both with ties to Amsterdam.
I’m sure it goes without much explanation to the readers of this site, but the city is New York, once called New Amsterdam. At one point it was a mystery, to me, of why I felt a connection to a place—a city, where I was not born; but over the years I’ve cast that aside, thinking it’s just where I like to walk, eat, give thanks, pray, sell real estate (of course!), socialize and dream upon my future—my own apartment—a sanctuary, once my children have grown, in lower Manhattan. The history of New Amsterdam is coated rouge, for which I will not bore you with the details or my deep ties to Henry Hudson—and his river. I will admit that its layered history and my love for it, over the years has handicapped my ability to be completely free with another. No single person has ever made me feel so alive and powerful and comfortable with who I am, since I started working in New York. The city knows me, just as I know it, in a mysterious-way. And that’s been just fine, for me, over the years.
For the past five years, I’ve rarely dated and when I have, there was always something that didn’t seem right, nor could I see that particular person in my future NYC pad—that sanctuary. I’ve accepted this blasé dating as my fate—that my true love has become and always will be a city, not a man. Hence, I’ve had a lot of first dates and one relationship that lasted on and off for eight months, even though I knew from the start, we had no future. I just did it—that relationship, to do it. Rather pathetic of me, now that I write this, to tell you the truth.
Anyway, there’s something in music called a triad—a chord; it has a root, third and fifth. When played its magical—whether it’s major, minor, diminished or augmented. I feel variations of this chord, in different keys of course, when I’m in New York. It just strikes me: Body, Soul and Mind, perfectly.
It was about four months ago that I felt that inner-chord that I’ve always felt while in New Amsterdam, with another person. It happened the first time I looked at him—his eyes—and I saw him in my “sanctuary.” I felt as if I knew him—entirely—before he spoke. Honestly, I didn’t think I’d ever hear that “music” with an actual person. I thought that part of me was dead—only reserved for a city and its buildings.
Over the months, I’ve learned he’s Dutch and we’ve exchanged mobile numbers. I refer to him as Amsterdam, most endearingly. We’ve seen each other a few times, outside of that first encounter, and even though life, for each of us, has its challenges and other responsibilities and desires, I simply don’t care. I’m just thrilled that someone struck that chord, within me, and it wasn’t reserved for New York City…
Cheers to all things Amsterdam!