William and I have lived in our new “green” condo for nearly six months. I haven’t had it space-cleared or house-blessed yet (note to self: do that), but yesterday it was blessed inadvertently by the presence of a couple of friends.
Because I was swamped with details to tend to (mail, phone, errands, stuff), I asked my friend Stan if he would come over to help. Stan is such a positive, accepting person. He’s like portable sunshine. He went to the office supply store for me, and made a couple or trips to recycling, but mostly he just sat on my couch with the cat and his presence gave me energy. I got a lot done, and then we went to dinner at The Kiosk, a lovely Moroccan restaurant in East Harlem with the best baba ganoush in New York City.
Among the calls I made with Stan’s silent support were several to people I wanted to let know about my upcoming book signing*. One of these, my friend Dominique, said she couldn’t talk long because she was about to escape her apartment: they were refinishing the floors of a neighboring unit and the fumes were ghastly. I told her she could spend the night here (William is on a business trip in the West Indies) and she said she would.
It was great — a grown-up slumber party. We talked and talked, and I read her my Joel Osteen notes (she likes Joel Osteen, too), and this morning I made green juice and muesli and we all meditated: Dominique, myself, and Bobby, the cat. (I don’t know if he meditates, but when a human meditates, he has to be right there, on the lap, purring.)
Having these two people over reminds me of how much more I want to have people over. I need the energy and these rooms need the energy. It’s an oddity of Manhattan that people don’t often go to one another’s homes—maybe because most apartments are small, and we all depend on public transportation so it somehow seems more polite to offer to meet someone halfway than expect them to schlepp to your part of town. But still. We’re all sojourners on this earth, on loan here from wherever “home” really is. We may as well bring one another into these places we think of as home while we’re here and experience the joy of that.
Years ago, I dated a guy who was a real introvert, almost a recluse. He lived across the street from me at one point and commented that, viewed from his vantage point, “It looks like you’re running a hotel over there.” I took it as a compliment. Hospitality is a small gift to give the world, perhaps, but a gift none the less. And it seems to me that at this point in time, it’s more important than it’s ever been.
*If you’re in New York City, please join me for the launch of my latest book, Living a Charmed Life, Monday, May 4, at Barnes & Noble, 65th & Broadway, 7:30 pm. Thank you!
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