Emily's May Inspiration "There Goes The Hood"

It was more than a restaurant, it was a symbol. And in the past decade, the last man standing in a sea of homogeny brought on by outsiders visiting the East Village on the weekends; dabbling in the hip, artistic, and edgy. Fact is MAMA'S was the neighborhood. At ten dollars a plate with a choice of meat and three sides, MAMA's was the spot you went for down home comfort. Nestled on 3rd St btw A & B, I walked past this soul food spot daily back in the nineties, sometimes stopping in just for a side of mash potatoes when the city got rough. They had the best veggies too, and if you didn't want meat you could get an extra side with their mac and cheese rivaling no other.

I encourage my yoga students to embrace change, to accept the only constant in our lives is just that. But as my old street in Alphabet City morphs into more and more sameness - that chain store, homogenized look that plagues our country - I have to cry out, 'Why this hood!?' Why the spot where artists flocked to so they could be different and accepted? With the fortune tellers, druggies, and performance artists singing their tunes, graffiti walls and dive bars that embrace all kinds... Why must the demographic who desires sameness, who feels more comfortable in an OLIVE GARDEN than an authentic Italian dive invade the one place on the planet where we screwed the Man?

Those who infest the East Village on the weekends are in no way supporting the community and those who inhabit it. They leave and go back to their commutes and cubicles, and tell stories about how they had a 'crazy' weekend in the village. We lived there, many old-schoolers still do. It's our home, and place's like MAMA'S, or the old KING'S PHARMACY replaced by a DUANE READE were our pride, our joy and choice to remain original, authentic to ourselves. Most moved to the East Village against their society's wishes. To a far away land where parentals did not understand paying a thousand dollars a month for a shoebox apartment on Ave C, but we did and sacrificed to be there. The natives know the secret to Alphabet City is its character, its funkiness, and constant groove we so adore. With the closing of MAMA'S, I dare say...there goes the hood.

PEACE,

Archived Inspirations

on Growth

Cowgirl Sundays

There's just something about Sundays. Maybe the charge from Saturday combined with the knowing you can sleep in-- that most of the day is yours, the sunshine even sweeter. Mine started with a late brunch at Cowgirl. The patio just ripe for summer's Sunday Gospel Brunch. Where old icons like Bill Hearne sing like back home complete with organ, strings, and bass. Swing Low, Sweet Chariot never sounded better to me than this day, Sunday. I sang along as the sun poured through and around huge puffy clouds and blue skies-- tapped my feet under our booth and thought well here's my church, here's my meditation for the day, so grateful to be present. To give thanks, cuz it sure feels like it's gonna be a good one. And that's really the thing about Sundays they should be good, plenty of space and play. With total abandonment and no attention paid to tomorrow and the inevitable Monday blues.

Because today is a day long ago set aside for rest. I'll just ignore the trimming to be done, the straitening up inside, and sit. Doing something I love, writing this-- remembering other Sundays, with love…

The lazy ones spent at Grandma's with crème sodas and lawn chairs. Brunches at the Holiday Inn or Northbrook with Dad and orange blossoms. Three-o-clock in the afternoon breakfast with friends at old Time Café, NY and mornings teaching in Brooklyn setting the tone for the rest of my day…why I just adore Sundays. And as we honor the particular one this June for fathers may we remember the sacredness surrounding them. The setting aside of time for family, friends, and space for you-- to play and join in the sun…

Of this pretty little day.

Enjoy,