New York is the kind of place you can live in for a decade and still find something new—something worthwhile—under your nose every single weekend. It always happens by a strange bit of chance too. Something strikes— a memory, or a photo, or an article—and feeling this unexpected inspiration you decide to go explore a neighborhood or a museum that you've heard about a hundred times, but never been to yourself. Then you go and damn! Why did it take me so long to check this out? Why haven't I been before?
Such is the case with Brooklyn Botanic Garden, where I went for the first time last weekend, even though I live just a mile from it.
What can I say? That's life. You get stuck in silly little routines. You rely on doing things you've done before because you're lazy, or because they're familiar. You go to the same bars and the same restaurants because familiarity can be a good thing—a critical thing!— especially in a big place like New York where everything is always overwhelming. We need these familiar places and routines to stay sane.
But sometimes, breaking out of them is what saves us too.
We didn't mean to go to Brooklyn Botanic Garden for the Monarch migration, it just sort of happened. And it made it. It made the whole day and the whole weekend. I don't know... to think of those little things flying so far. It definitely gave me some momentary perspective on life. How does the butterfly know where it's going? How does it know what it's supposed to do? It doesn't. It goes by intuition and it makes it up as it goes along.