"𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞" 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞𝐚

File this under "I was there, and now I'm here". Or, quoting an early formative teacher, Werner Erhard, "I used to be different, now I'm the same".

Imagine you unexpectedly finding yourself to be that "stranger in a strange land". A fish out of water. That necessary, oh-so delicious slice of pickle that fell out the sandwich. That double scoop of ice cream what plopped to the sidewalk. 

[Go on, make up your own. You got one, I know. We've all been there.]

Or, maybe like that super capable international mystery man operative dropped off naked and penniless in the middle of some unkown darkest and remote jungle only to arrive a few days later in a Rolls attired in the finest bespoke tailoring at the swankest hotel in Monte Carlo; well known to the management, credit unlimited, all the ladies' heads turning, exciting plans for the evening?

Not me. Not even close.

Quite the opposite. Though I have run a few operations in my day. Just sayin'.

But yet, not unlike our movie hero, I once did find myself untied from all the familiar moorings. In my case, however, pretty much ill-equipped. At first glance, anyway. Not knowing how I got there, or what to do. Next steps? Huh? Being there with too many logs in the fireplace it was quite enough in itself to keep the fire alight. Let alone, having much of any view to the future.

Thanks for the compound essence of time to allow for healing.

Stripped of that years-long carefully curated personalized wardrobe of assumed labels and roles. Possessions. Alone, and lonely. Clueless. Witless too ... unsure of everything assumed to be usual and true. Is that even a part of your life experience? I'm not talking like about being lost on the road to Akron. I'm talking about being lost on the road of Life. With not much more certainty than the feel of my feet on the hard sidewalks of the Big Apple. Yet, thankfully, with a handle on the plain unassailable fact of my own existence. With a whole lot of burdensome baggage keeping me weighed down and stuck. Seemingly. 

There's something written by Jagadguru Swami Muktananda Paramahansa, Getting Rid Of What You Haven't Got. That kind of cherished false psychic baggage. The title alone gives the clue.

That was my reality at the time. How about them Apples? And, there in the Big Apple! Out of my personal depth, but not without some deep help.

Oh, not so drastic as to not know which way to turn the faucet, or that you don't cross on a red light, or how to hold a slice of Pizza, or which shoe goes on which foot. But more in the societal sense. Without any idea of my fit in the world.* With a plate full of the Perennial questions, and clearly needing to search for the answers. Who am I? Where am I? How'd I get here?  And, what the fuck is this? Where am I going?

That's me at the Hotel Chelsea. When I got off the bench of the scripted life, and the game of the inner life of self awareness was on. Full on. "In the thick of it" says a friend. In a world clearly in need of repair. 

[How does it go? The world is as you see it. Or, as my little lovely Daughters taught me: What you say goes back to you. Translate: When you point a finger, three more are pointing back at you. Some Apples, indeed!]

PHOTO: Claudio Edinger

In that photo I look like I'm living into my middle name, Daniel. In the Lion's den, keeping cool. Well, sure, it's the Chelsea Hotel, but that "Red Bitch" of a place on 23rd Street could be anything you wanted her to be. Not the safest place for someone unaware that the outer world is a projection of the inner. Your demons could easily jump out of the shadows in that mysterious, magical place. In the literal flesh. And there were plenty of shadows.

PHOTO: Claudio Edinger

And, above, here I am in most most brokenhearted pose. Stoic as usual, but hurting deep down.

So it goes ...

It's 1980 and things changed for me. Radically, and irrevocably. 

My marriage ended in divorce. Painful, yet understandable. No surprise. But, shocking nonetheless. Not the least for leaving the familial scene with my two darling Daughters no longer at arms length. I didn't at the time understand anything about anything to explain away for those kids the hurt they too were feeling now that Daddy wasn't their picture of "Daddy" no more. Daddy needed some understanding on that too. 

My career in advertising vanished. No surprise there either. One day slogging what felt like an uphill climb to the office and passing the ice rink at Rockefeller Center I had a crytallene moment of self honesty. I simply admitted to myself that I did not want to do that any more. And so it went. No more Can't Miss World Class International Top 10 Mad Ave Ad Biggie. Out. And, for good.

So-called friends turned their backs, hid in the bushes. Work colleagues, they were never friends in the first place. Origin family, all miles away in Detroit; and pretty much out of touch. Parents, still there though. But, mea culpa, neglected and underappreciated. I still weep over that. You miss a large part of your heart for not loving your parents. Regardless of the particulars of the story. [Please hear that, "to whom it may concern".]

It's now 2024, and identity is all the rage. I won't get into that thicket any more than to say that what I learned coming out of the Chelsea Hotel is that identity don't have anything to do with any of the inferences that have been tacked on to your persona starting with from breath-one. Those labels, roles, looks, and ways.

Short lesson: You are not your body ... you are not your mind. [Sid Vicious must've realized that very soon after he went to town on Nancy. Pray for them both.]

Looking back at that two-roads-diverged-in-a-yellow-wood moment in my life I am still amazed at the hand of Grace underneath and throughout it all. Essentially, I had it wrong. I was there, but not really there. Playing a role. Like how you must yourself have lived through an experience but missed it for being mentally preoccupied. Or, being a certain way because the social pressure demanded. I was chafing at having been mostly constructed around living into others' expectations, and my assumptions about meeting others' expectations. Not knowing myself. Not being true to myself. I believe the grace was partly that I didn't acquiesce. That burr under my saddle compelled me to take off the saddle. 

Please, don't get me wrong — I think there may be more than a few who've got me wrong [but that none of my bidness] — nothing wrong with saddles. Marriage, family, job, home, car, neighbors, preferences, proclivities, penchants ... you know, all the conventional stuffs what go into our life story. Just now that we know better, let's be sure that things are in perspective. Keeping it real. You driving the horse, not the horse taking you. 

What's real, you ask? I can't say. Don't mean I don't know. Maybe a clue there. Those who know, don't say. But, those who don't say, don't mean they know either. You're on your own. But, like me in my "journey", not really. The Holy Spirit got you. Time for faith and trust. Pray. Repent. Forgive. 

Meditate. There's the world outside, sure. There's the inside too. Create a balance. Build and beautify that castle. There's the interior castle too.

Look, I'm not gonna lay out how to know yourself, and be true to yourself. That is all very well enough laid out in the teachings of the Knowing Ones. Easy enough to get your hands on. Which, thankfully, I did. Like when the student is ready, the Teacher appears sort of thing.

I know, by now you may be thinking there should be more about the Chelsea Hotel. If you want a snootful of that, read this. 

Net, net, the Chelsea Hotel is where this one sailed out from, too. And, amazingly, still with a good wind. [Please, no comments on my style. This is Wronski's Wramblings after all. You've been forewarned.]

* "Fit in the world." Interesting how that resolved itself. Like I said, I got flushed from my career as a Can't Miss High Level International Top 10 Mad Ave Ad Biggie. Obvously, what to do in plain simple terms to make a buck was on the to-do list. 

Along with, and underpinning it all, that tectonic shift in my life. There was a change of heart. I knew I wasn't up any longer for crafting interesting and clever ways to get folks to part with their cash. I wanted a path with a heart. Remember, I said my Rolfer also lived at the Chelsea. Rolf Structural Integration was a WOW!. An education that literally enabled me to find a down-in-the-bones sense of place; my fit in the world. Becoming a practioner of that craft was — and still is — my ticket to ride. What's it about? Short version: "Balancing the Body with the Gravitational field of the Earth." Because, wherever you go, there you are. Understand? Understanding is merely 10 toes in front of two feet. Kapische? 

PS Interesting also, my good friend the Rolfer took me to see the brilliant movie Being There when it was playing in theaters in Manhattan. Being there. Just that. The simplicity of that. Like when it was new to me to live like that. Not knowing. Looking afresh. Open to the creative possibility. Hearing and seeing what, if anything, is to do ... or say. Same as it ever was. 

Creativity. Large topic. Just a few thoughts.

The Chelsea Hotel was known as a stop for creative souls. What is creativity? The Wise Ones assert that "not knowing" is the essence of it. Living empty handed. But not without resources. The empty hand has the most options to choose the right brush, the right color. Versus just working from a preselected set bag of tricks. Of course, you do have to have the confidence born of faith and trust that knows how to be responsible ... that you're able to respond.  Well and appropriately. Knowing you have the palette of colors to accurately and creatively paint the picture of the scene facing you. It's all in Who's got your back. Who's got the lead. Who's in charge. True creativity — in Life — demands trust and faith. And, an untroubled heart. And, a clear head. Relinquishing doership.

I'm working on it. 

You may be wondering if I'm on the right track. Here's a clue. In answer to his question about what to do about the mendacity of the world, my answer to R. D. Laing was this: "I'm going to purify my heart." His response: "That's the most anyone can do."

Here's a link to recollections from my stay at the Hotel Chelsea.