Tidings of Comfort and Joy

I spent the early morning hours of Sunday hugging the immaculately clean toilet bowl in Room 1403 of the legendary Waldorf Astoria puking my guts out. No matter. I was kneeling on marble and robed in luxury spa-quality Egyptian cotton terry. I wasn’t drunk. I was having an attack of vertigo.

Vertigo. The sensation of spinning or whirling. My life in the last couple of years had been pure Hitchcockian. As I look back on it now, I feel like a detached voyeur seeing my life draining into concentric circles of hell and re-emerging on the other side. On the other side of what?

I could not stop vomiting.

My friends Monette, Liz and I took the subway to St. Mark’s Place in the east village neighborhood of Manhattan. The subway looked exactly like the subway I know from Law & Order -- ancient and dirty, starkly lit, dangerous-looking and pulse-poundingly exciting. If you could scratch and sniff TV, it would smell like humanity. We walked around looking for someplace to eat. Young, skinny Asian hotties in trendy gear packed authentic yakitori and sushi houses. No room there for three frumpy over-the-hill Asian women. We ended up at an empty udon house.

As I knelt hurling noodles down the drain, I grasped for the meaning of it all. I knew that my physical sensation of spinning was a metaphor for my recent life challenges. But I was now emerging and gaining equilibrium. I needed one last purge to purification.

The following day was going to be the oft-used first day of the rest of my life. I would be lunching with a publisher, a bestselling author, and fellow winners of this free fru-fru New York trip. I would be reconnecting with long-lost beautiful and inspirational friends.

As I snuggled into bed and cradled my head into the soft down pillow, I surrendered in gratitude for all that was and all that is yet to be.

God rest ye, merry Maya. Let nothing dismay you. Thank Father-Mother-God and Goddess, for tidings of comfort and joy!