The Body In Place, by Yvonne Fisher

Is the body different when we are in different places, different locations? Of course it is. My body was so different, during my week in New York City, than it is up here in Ithaca.

In Ithaca I have space to feel my body, to move around, to stretch and breathe in good air. In Ithaca I feel the aroma of lilacs drift in through my nostrils and float down through every nerve, blood vessel, and bone of my body down to my toes, the soles of my feet, connecting me to the very ground and earth I stand on. My body is part of nature and I cherish it. I become the lilacs and the lilacs are a part of me.

Here in Ithaca, my body absorbs healthy, nutritious food whenever I want to eat. The food nourishes and strengthens me. I drink coconut water to replenish. I eat coconut cereal with coconut milk. I become part coconut and I live my coconut-filled life. My body feels blissful and well-tended.

In New York City, I had a different experience. My body walked around concrete for miles and miles, to Broadway and back to Chelsea, to the East Village, to Soho, and all around. I walked with hoards of people, crowds everywhere, so that my body blended with all the others, creating a dense, tense harmony of sorts, dodging around people, scooting away, brushing up against people, running a bit, slowing down to a halt as if we were actually waiting in line as we all walked down the street.

As I looked at other faces, other bodies, I became them and they were surely part of me. We were the same, a massive species, all looking around, all looking up at neon ads for sexy underwear, flashing lights, explosions of movement and stimulation everywhere. We melted into the harsh, exciting environment like bionic babies in a robotic, electronic world. Everyone was looking down at their phones, car horns were honking angry and frustrated, sirens screaming, all of us oblivious, cool, walking on by.

My body was strong and tense walking all over the City.  Twice, I went for neck and shoulder massages to ease the stiffness, the tension, the pain. My body ate dinners late at night in dark, steamy restaurants with unbearably good food: the freshest sushi, the tenderest clams, the richest salmon and lots of wine flowing, being poured into my glass so I just kept drinking, who knows how much?

All of it felt out of control. I was giddy with delight and sensual pleasure and indulgence, sleeping at different peoples' houses, apartments, couches and beds, like the vagabond I was meant to be. My body adjusted to everything, slid into different beds, overstimulated, exhausted, thrilled. I could barely sleep.

This was my body's experience in New York City. I could do anything, everything, cry, laugh, talk endlessly, be silent, play, dream, melt into all of it, be overtaken and surrender to it.

On the bus back to Ithaca I felt my body relax, collapse. I was going home to sanity, simplicity, lilacs.

Someone on the bus, three seats away, had a bad cold and was coughing and sneezing. Oh no, I thought. I took my yellow pills that I get from my acupuncturist, to ward off colds. When I got home and went to bed I fell into a deep, dead sleep, letting go of all the stress and excitement. My body melted into my clean, purple, flannel sheets.

When I woke up the next morning I had a head cold. My brain was filled with cotton. My body was worn down. My debauched days and nights made my body sick.

I did recover quickly and still could smell the lilacs. My body was home, safe.

But what a fabulous time I had!