My New York

I admire New York. My eyes are enamoured of her soul's dynamic beauty. My New York is always astir and bustling. Also is she marching in gigantic strides. Success emerges before her very eyes.

The dawn breaks in to feel New York's heart consumed with new zeal. She hates to be absorbed in a fog of fruitless brooding, empty inactivity. Moreover she wants to be free, eternally free. Never, within her four corners, will she tolerate the air of captivity. If it is part of her nature to express herself boldly, I cannot blame her. Firstly, to me, she deserves this acme of self-confidence. Secondly, God wants New York to be what she is.

My New York has courage. My New York has confidence. The problems of anxiety and uncertainty may cover the length and breadth of the world, but my New York is an exception. Her youthful certainty is my heart's delight.

When I think of my India, it seems that she has endless time. If she does not avail herself of an opportunity today, it will return to her tomorrow. But when I think of New York, it seems that she is facing a unique opportunity at every moment. If she loses a golden opportunity today, it will never return. New York knows how to seize. She knows how to struggle. She knows how to push forward. She knows how to exert herself, consciously and dynamically. Blessed is she. Old blunders fail to plague her. Empty of fear is her heart which ever grows into the fulfilment of her promising future. Blessed is she.

My New York is not a challenge. She is not competition. She is not a running race. She is not victory. What then is she? She is a great Promise, wherein grows and flowers the Infinite Unknown.

Sri Chinmoy, AUM — Vol. 2, No. 9, 27 April 1967, Boro Park Printers -- Brooklyn, N. Y, 1967