January 2016

Rewind to this past Sunday morning: the last day of my winter break (or so I thought)….

My bags were packed as I was about to head back to New York for my final semester at NYU. As always, my time home in LA served as an opportunity to cleanse and rejuvenate my mind, body, and spirit before returning to the crazy city. Before leaving, though, I ended my winter break in the best, most appropriate way that I possibly could have – by riding in one last SoulCycle class, with my favorite instructor, the sorcerer of spin himself, David Zint.

Whenever I’m in LA, I make sure to take David’s classes at SoulCycle as often as I can – 45 minutes of pure adrenaline and booming melodies, liberating sprints out of the saddle and empowering climbs, all infused with unique mantras of hope and encouragement spoken by Mr. Zint himself through his mic, that make you feel stronger and prouder of your being, on that yellow bike and past the studio’s glass doors.

David and I had talked about my departure date prior to today’s class, so he knew that today would be my last ride for some time, with him and our solid, tight-knit community of riders that I have grown to love and hold close to my heart.

As I slipped on my spin shoes, grabbed my water bottle, and stepped into the studio, ready to sit on my regular bike #10, David proclaimed with excitement, “You’re leaving! Today is your farewell ride! You’re riding up on the podium!” I was thrilled to be riding on the podium, face-to-face with my pack of riders; but even more so, I was humbled by David’s faith in me to help lead the class, and his thoughtfulness and dedication to making me feel special and acknowledged – as he does for each and every one of his riders, regardless of the occasion.

I was on the podium waiting for the ride to begin, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous to spin in front of the whole class. What if I miss the beat or slip and fall on my face? But then, the lights above us dimmed as the spotlights below me beamed up, illuminating my body and making me feel vulnerably transparent, free of any inhibitions to hide. The music rose as I felt the bass vibrating through me. My legs started moving and increasing in speed until the sight of the pedals blurred and then evaporated. And then, I could have sworn I was flying.

As the class progressed and the ride intensified, my nerves lessened with each electric “tap back” and every “slow press in third,” as David roared phrases of motivation and gratitude to all of us.

“Looking good up there on the podium… He’s leaving us to go back to New York, everyone! We’re going to miss you, Daniel!” he said. And the class cheered and shouted. I was stunned and overwhelmed at David’s generosity and motivation, and the rest of the class’ supportive outpouring of compassion, as they celebrated my presence once more and sent me off with a final sprint.

And in the sweaty blink of an eye, the class ended; I grounded myself again as the music softened and the lights gently lit up again. David uttered a string of words to everyone to conclude, a phrase that continues to echo in my mind: “I’d say welcome home, but you’re already home.”

In that moment, my anxieties of leaving home to return to New York, in the midst of a frantic snowstorm, abandoned me. Suddenly, the fact that I was leaving became irrelevant, and the fact that I was present there was all that mattered. David made me realize that “home” is something I can carry with me, wherever I go, in the depths of my mind and the crevices of my soul (no pun intended). It seems that the existence of “home” is not contingent upon location or geography, but thrives off of our acknowledgment of the communities and the people that love us, support us, and embrace us for who we are, wherever we may be.

As I got up off the bike and stepped out of my sweaty safe heaven and into the studio’s lobby, I opened my locker to gather my belongings to rush home, zip up my luggage, and dash off to LAX to fly back to New York on time. My phone was in my hand as the screen lit up with an email from Virgin America: “FLIGHT ALERT: SORRY, YOUR FLIGHT HAS BEEN CANCELLED DUE TO WEATHER CONDITIONS,” it read.

I shared the news with my fellow riders; we cheered that I could stay in sunny LA for a bit longer, and laughed at the fact that my “farewell ride” had no immediate “farewell” to follow. How anticlimactic…! I guess “farewell” is an elusive and even misleading term anyway. From my past experience, most of the time, when we say “goodbye” or “farewell,” we’re just being dramatic, and what we truly mean is, “see you later,” regardless of when “later” may be.

Now that I’m finally back in New York (after an inconveniently timed snowstorm and two cancelled flights), I’ve had a chance to reflect back on my ride that day…and all I have to say is, thank you. To my family of riders – thank you for sharing in the journey with me, wherever it takes us. And to you, David Zint – thank you for instilling in me a passion to climb higher, to sprint faster, to endure the ride, and to acknowledge the worth of my presence and existence, on and off the bike. You are truly an inspiration, my friend, and I am grateful that you comprise a part of my home, wherever my travels may lead me.

See you later…!

SoulCycle West Hollywood – 8570 West Sunset Blvd, West Hollywood, CA 90069

Now that I’m home in LA for my last ever college winter break, I realize how quickly the time has passed since I began at NYU as a curious freshman, new to the shimmering concrete jungle. Each time I return home from New York, a comforting sense of familiarity and sameness greets me and welcomes me back to my original stomping ground. The same faces, the same voices, the same sounds, and the same sights are always present, seemingly unaffected by time – and thank God, because I have always hated change.

One of my favorite parts of visiting home is driving in my car and gazing at the swaying palm trees that delicately embellish the bold blue sky. This sight represents solace, security, and relief, reminding me that no matter how much time passes, some things will always remain the same, like LA’s landscape.

I drove down Beverly Drive today with my sunroof open, wearing my new pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses. As I reached a stop sign, I swiftly took off my glasses to clean its lenses with my t-shirt. When I looked down at them, I was initially perplexed, but then, I was strangely delighted and intrigued by what I saw. Staring back at me was the reflection of my beloved blue skies and towering palm trees on my black lenses, covered with tiny particles of dust. No longer appearing vastly above me, its reflection looked small, warped, curved, and cased within two plastic frames in my hand. The familiar suddenly became unfamiliar.

As I reflect on my past at NYU, freshman Daniel is no longer familiar to me; I am not the same person that I was during my previous visits home for winter break, as I’ve reached a new place in my life. I am finally a senior now, with much more understanding, curiosity, and perspective than I had when I began my undergraduate career. Soon enough, I will cross the threshold into a realm that lies beyond NYU’s borders and past LA’s familiar streets. Like the reflection of the sky and the trees, I feel as though I’ve transformed in some shape or form and have adapted to the ever-changing contexts of my life – a reality that I am sure we can all distinctly relate to.

It seems, therefore, that no matter how much we strive to hold onto the familiarity of the past and the comfort of the present, life takes on new forms – just as my cherished blue skies and palm trees did in my lenses. But if we acknowledge the presence of difference and open our eyes to the beauty of change, we can view our lives from new viewpoints with a refreshing sense of clarity. In doing so, we gain vaster perspective and deeper understanding of our progressions and ourselves – as everything around us and within us beholds the potential to transform.