February 4, 2008

Waiting for Tone

There’s a nearby farm stand that’s open year round. During the winter months, root vegetables, with the occasional greenhouse lettuce, make up the bulk of the local produce. But, it’s worth the snowy trip for the homemade soups and breads. I’d rounded the corner from the steaming vats of chowders and stews to the bakery aisle when I saw her. Tiny and tottering, she appeared to weigh in at about the same number as her age, somewhere in the nineties. Despite her size, she was blocking access to the bin of fresh rolls. Instead of pushing past her, I waited. And watched. She examined each scone with such focus, holding it close to her glasses, smelling it, smiling, placing it back on the shelf. She was completely absorbed in the yeasty aroma, the texture and weight of each scone. She had no idea I was there.
January 31, 2008

Hoo Ha

As a crossword puzzle addict, I tend to skip right past the front page of the New York Times to the Arts section, leafing through music and movie reviews until I get to Will Shortz’ grid. I time myself on Monday’s entry – it’s the simplest, most straightforward. As the week progresses, though, there’s a lot more nuance, subtler understandings instead of uncomplicated definitions. By Friday, I’m still working on Thursday’s. I finished a Sunday puzzle. Once. A week later. Seven letters: How the body responds to stress. The Monday answer would be disease.
January 31, 2008

Don’t Look at Me That Way

Yoga, one of my teacher training instructors often said, is about radical self-acceptance. Whatever the loss or limitation: self-acceptance. A challenge when that limitation shows and strangers’ eyes register Not Normal as they stare. I’m reminded daily – at the grocery store, doing errands – that one leg doesn’t quite work right, isn’t within the standard. I might rise above it, describe it in a personal ad as “Gimpy but cute,” but my point is . . . no, my points are: