Back in 2017, I had only ever experienced life in Minneapolis. I abhorred the company that I worked for. My team showed no interest in helping me grow, and I had no interest in investing creatively in the work I produced. During my downtime, I lived in a stunning exposed-brick loft in the heart of downtown with my cat Sumi, a parking spot in a neighboring garage, rooftop access, all the city at my doorstep—it seemed like the quintessential life for a 30-year-old.
In reality, I loathed my existence. I indulged in countless fried meals per week and drank excessively, all while ignoring my body’s plea for workouts, exploring the outdoors, and breaking out of a vicious work-sleep-repeat cycle. While hosting social gatherings, I found myself unable to be fully present when my friends arrived. I was ensnared in a life of stagnation and low vibes, without realizing how far I’d fallen. I knew that there was more out there… I just had no idea where to find it.
Luckily, around the same time, I took my first trip to New York City to visit dear friends and see a live Goldfrapp concert in Brooklyn. Her music has always provided me with solace, and I find that during periods of transition, I’ve always been able to travel to see her perform, leading to major revelations each time. On the subway to the venue, I noticed something odd— I had eyeliner on and was dressed exceptionally gay for the concert, yet not a single soul batted an eye at my appearance! At this moment I realized that I felt a level of acceptance that I’d never experienced prior... and it was exceptional. Anonymity is a blessing after years of being stared at for no reason—and I felt at home for the first time in my life.
Soon after the concert, I met up with another friend who worked near Domino Park in Williamsburg. We got falafel and strolled down to a charming enclave with weathered wood benches, illuminated by the golden-hour sunset. It was the first time that I had ever seen the city from this vantage point, and a thought hit me like electricity:
“I could live here.
This could be my view,
every single day.”
I embraced this idea as my new mantra, resigning from my job within the year, transitioning to full-time freelance, and parting with all my belongings, which I sold to my supportive and amazing community of artists in Minneapolis, many of whom have become my closest friends, and biggest supporters. For the first time, I felt a deep passion and clarity, knowing what I needed to do to pursue my happiness. I also managed to save more money than ever before and set a move-out date for April Fool’s Day, (which was pleasantly on the nose for my detractors). My best friend, cat, and Honda CR-V embarked on a 2-day journey from Saint Paul to Brooklyn, and this marked the beginning of the most important journey I've ever undertaken, all spurred by that golden hour sunset.
My favorite part is, through COVID, through every hard layoff, and through every moment of heartbreak, this park and this view of the city has been the backdrop of my spiritual moments of healing. I talk to the city often. I've meditated to this view, cried to this view, and learned that the city truly listens to me when I need it the most. It's always given me what I need.
Before I leave for London later this month, I’m going to sit in Domino Park and thank New York for everything it’s done for me over the last five and a half years. I will think back to the time, six years, eight months, and 10 days ago, when I first laid eyes on this view, and everything fell into place.