I did nothing on Sunday and it was the best thing I did all week.
I live in Harlem, up near 145th, and I've walked past the entrance to the 1 train a thousand times without ever riding it north. So this Sunday I did. All the way up to Fort Tryon Park.
My Harlem bodega guy sold me three mangoes in a brown paper bag and told me they were "the good ones, from the back." There is always a back. There are always better mangoes in the back. I have never once been shown the front mangoes and I refuse to question the system.
Fort Tryon Park in late August is a secret nobody tells you about when you move here. Everyone talks about Central Park and the High Line, but up here it's quiet, it's green, it's got the Hudson glittering below and old stone walls and the Cloisters sitting there like the city forgot to be loud.
I sat on a bench and ate a mango with my hands like a child, juice everywhere, no napkin, no plan. This is a very specific Sunday in Harlem energy. Doing nothing, but doing it fully.
The thing New York doesn't advertise is that it also knows how to be slow. You just have to go far enough uptown, take the 1 to the end of your patience, and let the city exhale for once.
A man was playing chess alone. A couple was napping under a tree. A little kid was very seriously trying to feed a squirrel a Cheeto. Nobody was performing. Nobody was going anywhere.
I took the 1 back down to Harlem with mango on my fingers and nothing accomplished and I felt genuinely rich.
Do one slow Sunday this week. The good mangoes are in the back.
Love,