New York is a quiet place for me. I know that's an odd statement. Anyone who's been to New York will tell you there is a constant dissonant clash of car horns, jackhammers, and the pained cries of ambulance sirens that echo down the streets. But as a visitor, I don’t feel the weight or connection to those sounds. These noises do not belong to me; they run off like rain trying to grip Teflon.

This city is a place that leaves me alone and doesn't ask much of me. I can walk for hours, unnoticed, along the streets of Manhattan. It's a space of healthy anonymity for me. It is healthy because my anonymity is temporary, but it also reminds me that in the grand scheme of things, my participation in the world is not as consequential as I would typically believe. I’m one person among millions of souls in one of the world’s greatest cities. New York does not have my cellphone number and does not need or want to give me a call.

This feeling is not depressing in a nihilistic kind of way; in fact, it feels liberating.

I tend to have a messiah complex, and I'm pretty good at carrying emotional burdens that no one has asked me to take. I carry bulging, uncomfortable thoughts in my pockets that say, "You have to fix the world's problems; everyone depends on you to make things work. You need to stick with this course of action no matter what."

…and particularly jagged idea that says, "Yes, you must make everyone happy!"

If these same thoughts had a chance to converse with the skyscrapers of mid-town, the skyline of New York might reply by saying, "Actually, the world will continue to spin with or without you. Your participation in the world is welcomed, but the ultimate fate of planet Earth does not rest on your shoulders." For me, that reply is an invitation to pull the burdensome thoughts out of my pockets, throw them to the side of the road, and continue forward. If life at home is a feast of responsibility, a short vacation is cleansing fast. Edmonton plays at a much lower decibel level than New York, but I am connected to its soundtrack. Home is a familiar album that’s always playing in my mind, and its tunes are connected to my responsibilities. It can be hard to hear anything else.

While walking 5th Avenue, the static white noise of my life dials down, allowing me the space to hear my heartbeat ask,

"What do you want?"

“What’s out there for you to explore?”

“What opportunities have you previously dismissed that maybe you should consider?”

“How many dreams do you want to cash in this life?”

Nothing is stopping me from asking these questions when I’m home.

For the record, I love my home. Let there be no question about it. I love my family and my house, and I enjoy working at least 70% of the time. Having some time away to reflect is one of the ways I regain clarity, focus, and inspiration to make the best of my opportunities in life. Comfortable daily routines have a way of putting us on autopilot. Autopilot is helpful because thinking requires energy, but if we’re not careful, our routines can knock us off course centimeters a day without us noticing it until we’re lost and have lost our vision for how to live life well.

New York is the place where I can refocus, and it works for me. You may have another place to go, an activity, or a person to talk to who can help you regain perspective on your values. Whatever that is, you’ve got to do it.

When I flew out of Laguardia Airport, I felt rested and eager to hear the sounds of home again.

Thanks for reading, friend; I hope this made sense, and you found it helpful. Find a way to hear your own heartbeat this week.

-Jordan

P.S- I’d love to hear about the spaces that bring vision to your life! Feel free to share in the comments or the social media link where you found these words today.