life in the garden of false learning

everything and nothing changed when I moved across the country

Hello, everyone. I’d like to begin with an apology for a weirdly between-weeks post on a Monday. I will be using this as an excuse to either go on a hiatus or double post in the near future. I haven’t decided just yet. As always, if you’re new, welcome to what I hope is an insightful discussion of relevant topics within this post-modern shitshow we have the divine pleasure to exist: a dichotomy of the highest level of technology and cultural acceptance in human history, and also a time where I can go to Central Park in November wearing a tank top, and billionaires manipulate the stock market by making verified Twitter accounts cost $8 a month.

This weeks topic of discussion is possibly the most nuanced so far. It’s an inspection of the reason why I, and many other creatives, have chosen to move to New York. A lot of people say you can’t escape who you are, and that moving away is just avoiding the problems you have with yourself. This is partially true, I'll admit. However, if you think that a change in environment will offer you the opportunity to thrive, work with like-minded people, and have access to a wealth of information and history, then maybe that’s a different story. Let’s find out.

The past month here has been filled with incredibly human moments that have moved me to tears. I have already pinned the location of a special rock in Central Park that I’ve stumbled upon and cried atop multiple times. I watched runners finish the marathon. I found the perfect everything bagel. I went to a taping of The Late Show with Stephen Colbert. And while I have failed, lost touch with some of my home friends, worked at an awful job, been yelled at, spit on (I wish I was joking, but this happened twice on the same day), and made every mistake possible so far, I couldn’t feel more alive.

I vividly remember a conversation I had once with my dad, where he said “your brothers want children or success or wealth, but you, you just want to be happy”. At the time, this felt very derogatory, and even reflecting on it now I know he meant it in a negative way. If the pursuit of happiness is the killer of joy, I can’t help but contemplate why I chose to move to New York in the first place. Did I just think it was going to make me happy? Is it wrong that it did?

As an impassioned connoisseur of arts and culture, I made the heinous, three-hour trek to visit the DMV last week, for the sole intention of exchanging my “out of state” for an official New York License, to make getting into the MET Museum for whatever price I choose easier than ever. It was here (at the MET, not the DMV) that I came across a tapestry that perfectly illustrates the issue that I’m trying to pinpoint: The Garden of False Learning from the Table of Cebes.

“In the garden of false learning, elegant figures in courtly dress are distracted from true wisdom and happiness by dedicating too much energy to the pursuit of knowledge through debate, philosophy, geometry, astrology and alchemy, geography, astronomy, arithmetic, and music.”

So, how does this tapestry from 1550 tie into living in New York? Well, it arises the question of what the whole point is. What purpose does every self-proclaimed “intellectual” congregating to the same 302.6 square miles (all five boroughs) offer to the rest of the world? Are we doing anything meaningful by just validating each other within our own community? Is New York City not a bubble but a garden where we all collectively agree that things are different and better here?

The reasons for why I wanted to do it are endless, so I’ve polled some of the friends I made over the last month about why they felt compelled to embark on this journey too. Here are their answers:

• “I just like people, and here you see, interact, and rely on people every day.”

• “There’s so much more of the human experience here, whether it be art, culture or music.”

• “You know what they say…New York or nowhere.”

• “I felt I should move because I decided I’d rather justify going in the first place than not going at all.”

• “I really had no intention of moving to NYC…after being here for about a year, I grew to love the city and the people I met here, and would be hesitant to move elsewhere/away from the people that have made it home.”

• “I followed friendship and hope for other artsy people looking for direction after graduating.”

• “I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. I’m not sure I’ll ever leave.”

Thank you to my lovely friends, who were kind enough to indulge me with their thoughts. I think their perspectives help illustrate that this is something we all felt drawn to and thought would make our lives better. I hope it isn’t wrong to feel that perhaps without my desire to move here, my life would be the same (in negative ways) nor would I have become friends with any of these incredible people.

I’m still the same person I was in Florida, but now I have the accessibility to do things that I’ve always wanted to do. On Friday, in Central Park, my roommate pointed out that I’m a person that is restless and always on the move. While for many, this might be exhausting, I spend most of my free time walking around alone and exploring. Smelling the hypothetical roses. But Sterling, how can you make the “stop and smell the roses” argument when you live in one of the busiest cities in the country, the world? Well, have you considered there are just more roses here to smell? In Miami, I used to walk down the side of US Highway 1 for miles to visit the closest strip mall, just to do anything. And confined to the suburban sprawl of Orlando, I felt trapped and usually described my arguably amazing studio apartment as a prison cell simply because I felt I had no where to escape. I’d say reading and annotating a book while riding up and down the subway is an upgrade.

In the last month, I have adored leaning into being cringey and making friends, having bad first dates or good ones and being alone, people-watching, bad movies and delayed trains, and I cannot help but wish this experience for everyone. At the risk of losing the minuscule shred of credibility that I have on this abysmal website, the “live, laugh, love” girls really were onto something. Is the only true way to arrive at happiness to just become passive and appreciative of every moment in your life? There’s a philosophical concept called stoicism that encourages people to stop striving for things they want and enjoy the things around them that they have. Can these “wants and desires” partially be the misconceptions we have of who we are? Are they the things pulling us into the garden, or is it our love and appreciation of these things that will lead us to our own personal wisdom and happiness? Unfortunately, it will take a lifetime for each of us to find out.

Out of all the positive feelings I have towards my time so far here, it’s hard not to think that this might be as good as it gets. For every moment I have cherished being here in my own company, there are so many that I’m waiting for something serendipitous or spectacular to happen. Maybe it seems like I’m enjoying a nice afternoon by myself at a cafe or bookstore, but in the back of my mind it’s also hard not to wish that I could bump into someone or stumble upon the life of my dreams. Maybe that’s the problem with a city that has endless opportunities, is that you’re always expecting them.

To summarize, I’ll use a quote from a clip of Billy on the Street:

“How does it feel to be an elitist New York piece of shit?”

“It feels awesome.”

See you next week.