In Pursuit of Nextness

There is no better time of year than Christmas to remind us that getting what we want is not all it's cracked up to be.  Most of us learn at an early age the magic of anticipation, the wild fantasies that surround those things that are just out of reach, and the eventual anticlimax of holding the object of our desire in our hands and finding it to be disappointingly ordinary.  In the end, that toy that we dreamed about night and day turns out to be just a toy with a finite range of functions and limited possibilities.  Within days, we're writing our wish lists for next year.  Because, when it comes down to it, the fun was actually in the wanting and not the having.

During a recent visit, RG said something that struck me:  "Next is the best place to be."  A simple thought made more poignant by its timing and its truth.  If wonder and optimism are our measuring sticks, then the best present the Christmas season brings is the gift of anticipation.  Germane to anticipation are the thrill of hope and the purity of unsullied expectation.  Until tomorrow arrives, nothing can prove that it won't be better than today.  And, as New Years Eve approaches, it occurs to me that, as a society we innately know this -- the night before the new year is the biggest party night of all.  We celebrate our nextness and the possibilities it brings.  For all of the control of our universe we attempt every other day of the year, on that one night, we revel in the joy of not knowing what comes next.  On that night, tomorrow could be anything. 

Anticipation, our sustained interest in what will happen next, is what makes the world go around.  It keeps us moving forward in our studies, our careers, our travels, our hobbies, and our relationships.  One of the things that makes being single so appealing to me, especially in a city like New York where possibilities pass us in the street in throngs, is that feeling of anticipation -- every morning I step out into the city may be "the day," every new bar I try at night might be "the place," and every new person I chat up on the train may be "the one."  One by one, my friends couple off, and I remain single, only reinforcing the fact that I am next, that my shiny new toy is just around every corner.  I have met a lot of men this year that didn't turn out to be the end-all, be-all.  And I couldn't be happier.  In disappointing me, they've each perpetuated my nextness.  Built my anticipation.  And affirmed my fantasies that there is something amazing out there meant just for me. 

But, if anticipation is the silver lining of being single, does it disappear once you're not?  After all, you've got what you want, you've hooked your fish, he's in the bag, dreams become concrete, and she's standing right in front of you.  Yikes.  But, fear not! The best thing about anticipation is that it can't be caught.  No sooner do we reach one horizon than another rolls out in front of us.   Answering the question of "which one?" only leads to deeper and more complex questions about "who?" that will hopefully take a lifetime to sort through.  Wondering what else there is to discover about a person is what draws us together.  Conversely, feeling that you've got a person entirely figured out is what allows us to fall apart.  I think this is where most of us get into trouble.  Whether the problem is a waning zeal for discovery or a want of things to discover, reaching the promised land and settling in leads to complacency.  And, especially in relationships, things can begin to feel stale. 

The truth is that we are all deep wells of thought and being.  Theoretically, there should be no end to reach in any of our personalities (if only because experience is constantly changing our perspectives and evolving our characters).   So why do we become complacent in relationships?  Short answer: I think that, while as a people we know the value of anticipation, it's easy, as a person, to forget.  Long answer: We fall short in one of two ways: (A) We're lazy when it comes to exploration.  (As it turns out, anticipation takes work to perpetuate.  Curiosity and wonder are wheels that we must make the effort to turn at times, and once many of us feel we've reached an oasis, we peter out.) (B) We're lazy when it comes to evolution.  (We get into ruts and fail to make the effort to do things and create experiences that enrich our mind and our spirits.  We stop chasing things that have the capacity to change us.  We stop thinking.  We stop doing.)  And, in either case, we stop pursuing.  Whether we seek a deeper understanding of others or of ourselves, without pursuit, the concept of "next" cannot exist.

So, as the New Year comes upon us, and we look forward to the ensuing 365 days, don't let the anticipation of what's to come end on New Year's Eve.  Resolve in the new year to pursue.  Plumb the depths of others.  And, become someone worthy of pursuit, yourself.  Develop your interests, sharpen your skills, think and feel deeply, observe, opine, take initiatives, practice kindness and curiosity and introspection.  Be a person in whom there is always something else to discover, and you'll find that people will pursue.  When it comes to relationships, the onus is largely on us to create our own "nexts," to continue to seek what's next in others and to take the initiative to seek what's next in ourselves.  If we do, then we'll roll into 2011 not in helpless anticipation of what the world will bring to us, but empowered by the anticipation of what sort of "nexts" we will find.

As always, to the extent it's New York City you hope to discover, here are a couple of "nexts" to get you started:

Against the Grain
East 6th St. between Ave. A and Ave. B

This place is an annex to the restaurant/winery, but is definitely not an afterthought.  It's small and cozy and features local artists' work on the exposed brick walls.  But the best part is the awesome collection of craft beers.  The bartender was awesome and knowledgeable, gave us time to get through our tasting flight of six quality brews.  On a Sunday night we pretty much had the place to ourselves...eventually even the bartender joined our little party.  Come to this place...you can't help drinking just one great beer after another.

Rai Rai Ken
East 10th St. between 1st and 2nd Ave.
Tiny with a capital "T" but Good with a capital "G".  Located in the heart of Little Tokyo, this isn't your standard college ramen.  A handful of noodle bowl options, rice, and dumplings -- you can't go wrong.  It's all cooked right there behind the noodle bar by real Japanese guys who barely speak English.  It's a little dark, cramped, and papered with Japanese script.  And, according to RG, who studied Japanese, it feels a lot like the real thing.  I can see stopping by here every once in a while to get your Japanese fix.