After an amazingly stormy weekend on the East Coast and a dangerous drive back into New York City from visiting with friends (high winds, slick highways, and delayed bridges), I had the pleasure of attending opening night of a new Broadway show titled, "LOOPED," starring Valerie Harper.  Her performance as the aged Tallulah Bankhead was funny and, at times, disturbing --- a great combination for a night at the theatre.

Afterward, I joined my friends, Jason, Mark and Marilyn, for the Opening Night Party at Sardi's Restaurant.  As we sat in what is arguably the most recognizable of pre-show and post show theatre eateries, I had a moment of nostalgia.  I remembered many nights in the theatre district and numerous opening nights spent in the afterglow of a first performance.  I looked around at the myriad of interesting, elegant, and sometimes odd, patrons that snaked from the buffet line to the bar to the tables.  All around paparazzi snapped pictures and people were abuzz with excitement and critiques of the performance.  

In recent years, my role has been to be much of an observer of people, body language and behavior.  This atmosphere was rife with much to observe.  

After an hour or so of eating, talking and laughing, my friends said their goodnights and left.  I remained for a bit, watching some more.  I didn't really want to connect with anyone new; I simply wanted to view the activity and the antics.  In doing so, something interesting occurred to me.  I realized that I enjoyed my role perhaps even more than I had previously known.  I enjoyed not entertaining, not being centered in the activity.  Mostly, I enjoyed sitting and observing.  I felt strangely comfortable sitting alone.  In fact, more than comfortable, I felt inspired by this sense of freedom.  I felt that I was watching a show in which there was no need to react or do anything.  In those moments, surrounded by an abundance of activity, I was content to simply sit and be.  To me, this was a breakthrough moment.  I felt no need, no desire to give anything more or receive anything more.  I was completely satisfied.

Later, I walked 40 blocks back to the apartment (about 2 miles) in the cool, brisk wind.  I felt exhilarated by the sights and sounds of the City around me.  I felt myself present and experiencing the City as if it were all new.  After years of living in New York City and countless opening night parties and theatre experiences, it all felt new and exciting; not because there was the promise of something to come, but simply because I allowed myself to observe a bit more closely than perhaps I had done when this was my "normal" life.  I realized my new "normal" last night and I relished it as much as the performance or the party.  It is a pleasure to wake up to a simpler, easier me.