Beautiful Hairdresser Martha

unlikely name. Why is Martha less beautiful than Elyse or Ivy or Sophia or Lily? Why would an African woman be named Martha? Martha, born in Johannesburg, moved to Australia when she was a young child. She said her father got an Australian job. (She didn’t say what.) She was on 34th Street in New York City the day of her 20th birthday when she met a l7 year old very tall young man from Brooklyn. They eventually (not such a long wait) got married. Martha dyed my hair a redder red. A nicer red actually. What was odd was that I didn’t much like Martha. And I wasn’t entirely sure why.

Restorative Yoga at the JCC

Two things happened. The instructor Jayne (the  y is there) (they are all so intimidatingly thin and limber. I keep waiting for Real Yoga.) told us that restorative yoga is about leaving your cell phone and your watch behind. So I actually did. I left them both in the locker room. They called and I had to walk back there a few hours later.

She said your organs are smiling. That’s the kind of sentence that makes me feel oy vey. Maybe I shouldn’t take yoga. Do I want my organs to smile?

 

And

I Am A Bookdoctor, Sometimes

Windows, and Books

The woman

who asked me

to work on her book

I’d like to call her May

after I told her

I couldn’t I wouldn’t she said

with an absolute amount

of imperious certainty

YOU don’t understand

the advantages to you.

I she declared

very loudly as though she were

telling me something very important

have 36 windows.

Many of them face the park.

At Yoga Class today Joel told us this quote

“For last year’s words belong to last year’s language and next year’s words await another voice.” It’s by T.S. Elliot

 

 

My intention (what is an intention? I wonder) is to write every day, at least to try. Not to be like everyone on their cellphones (I’m here. I’m there) but to say what happened. Like this. A beautiful native American man at meditation tonight described saying goodbye to his brother, who died on Jan 2. He said goodbye yesterday, a few weeks later. At the reservoir in the park. He asked his brother to forgive him for not being the brother he should have been. And he stood in the cold and watched the noisy geese come to the park. Were the geese his brother? He said that birds are wonderful. So was he.

 

 

 
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