A year or so ago, on a chilly Spring morning, Levina and I were crossing the George Washington Bridge into NJ, heading upstate to escape the city for a few days. There’s a stretch of that trip, driving north on NJ-17, that to me is such an eyesore and, like a purgatory, I can’t wait to get through. It’s gas stations, Paneras, Targets and Tesla dealerships, all screaming “buy me!” as I push my way back towards the quieter, forest-laden roads of the NY thruway.
But on that highway of capitalism there’s an exit sign that stood out to me — the exit to Mahwah, NJ. Without giving it a second thought, my voice reached up 2 or 3 octaves and said “Mahwah!” The tone and inflection of this exclamation was not dissimilar to something that might come out of Elmo’s furry red mouth, but it had its own Caleb spin. A few seconds later, I repeated it again with the same enthusiasm, “Mahwah!” I couldn’t control myself — the mouth feel of this word felt so good. I repeated it a few more times before Levina stopped whatever she was doing and asked me what the hell I was saying.
“Mahwah!” I repeated, not at all changing my voice back to normal or actually explaining why I was saying what I was saying. Honestly, I didn’t really know. It just kept coming out of my mouth.
A quick and necessary detour: Jim Henson’s world has been a deep love of mine for as far back as I can remember. I’ve had, and continue to have, a burning desire to collaborate in some way with Kermit the Frog, and have a constantly running question in the back of my brain wondering, “if I could create a muppet, who would they be?”
As I focused on keeping the car between the lines zooming north on NJ-17, it very quickly dawned on me that a character was being born. I was finally able to stop repeating myself and, in a stream of consciousness, introduced Levina to the world of Mahwah.
He is, I shared, a furry little creature of pure love. He operates from the heart, never getting caught up in the cluttered nonsense of the reptilian brain; the idea of “fight or flight” means nothing to Mahwah. His sole job is to remind us that we’re loved. To help us get out of our own heads and tapped back into our bodies. To feel connected to that warm, fuzzy, loving nougat-y center that we’re tapped into on our best days.
“Mahwah loves you,” I declared, returning once again to the Elmo-like voice, before getting quiet and letting the sounds of the road seep back in.
Now, you might be thinking, “Caleb sounds like a really annoying person to go on a roadtrip with,” as you imagine me squawking “Mahwah” repeatedly in an enclosed space. And, I can assure you, it’s not my typical MO to be channeling muppets as I drive.
For reasons that may never become clear to me, as I stretched my mouth around the roomy and expansive syllables “mah-wah,” I dropped into my own playful, heart-centered self and a smile melted across my face. And that was all I needed. A quick tune-up.
Take a minute and say it yourself. I’ll wait…..Tell me it doesn’t feel good to say.
And in that brief moment of disconnecting from whatever else is in your head today, what are you able to tap into? Joy? Love? Curiosity? Playfulness? Something else?
It still feels like the very early days of Mahwah’s existence, but he continues to show up here and there and it’s clear that he intends to stay around and continue to be a part of our lives. When one of us is having a tough day, he becomes a beacon of light, a reminder that we’re loved. He allows the emotions like anger and sadness to be present and simultaneously throws us a lifeline back to joy, gratitude, and love in case we need that little nudge to get out of our funk. He reminds us to not get too bogged down in the minutiae.
Levina and I talk about him a lot and wonder what he might look like. Last week, I went to my friend Evan’s cozy monthly art night, which he’s dubbed “Soft Landings.” Without giving it too much thought, I started painting what I realized was a zoomed in snapshot of Mahwah’s furry face. Hopefully, he’s start presenting more of himself soon.
I share this story to encourage you to be on the lookout for your own “Mahwah” — to let your creativity and playfulness continue to run wild at all times in the back of your mind and be open to whoever and whatever might come up, however silly and out there it may be.
I share this story to remind you that Mahwah loves you.
A few other things to share:
I’m starting a new monthly breathwork residency at a super cool space in Greenpoint called Samadhi. My first experience is tomorrow night, 3/25 at 6:30pm. Register here and send me a message if you'd like a 50% off code!
Also continuing my monthly breathwork residency at The Class’s Tribeca studio this Sunday, 3/30 at 5pm. You can register here and can also experience virtually live via their Digital Studio.
My monthly breathwork residency at Reforesters Laboratory also continues in Williamsburg on Monday 4/21 at 6:30pm. Sign-up here.
I’m continuing to bring these breathwork experiences to corporate clients as a way to break up offsites, day-long meetings, or simply as a weekly/monthly reset. Send me a message if you’d like to explore bringing it to your team.
I offer virtual and IRL drumming and rhythm lessons for people looking to deepen their understanding of rhythm (note: this isn’t just for people who want to “learn to play drums”), and have one more space available for a new student at the moment. Is this you? Send me a message to find out.
Thanks for reading and for being you,
C + M