two stars and a wish

It seems that I think too slow and talk too fast. This is surely not a good combination, especially when it comes to first impressions. But I wasn’t the only participant at the seminar to be criticized. The instructor’s metaphor for constructive criticism was “two stars and a wish,” meaning that students should always be praised for two things, but also firmly reminded of what could have been better. I admit being shaken by the wish, but it also brought me closer to Maria (the fourth wonderfully interesting person I met at or near this event), who found her own wish as well a little harsh.

There is always a girl named Maria. She’s usually dark-haired and light-hearted. She lurks near doors, windows, and other liminal spaces that separate one world from another. Maybe you’re in Mexico or Russia or Greece. There will be a girl named Maria. She will insinuate herself into your thoughts, give you reasons to believe and something to believe in; she’ll make you want to be a better friend, just to be close to her.

I’ve had this idea for quite some time, but the seminar -- along with this great link (recently posted by Niko, to whom I am grateful and devoted) to an amazing poem that couldn’t be about anybody but a Maria -- provided the occasion to try to put it all into one (semi)coherent post.

Pensive Maria
removed her stockings

From her body came
voices of others
of a soldier who spoke like a bird
of a sick person who’d died of sheep’s pains
and the cries of Maria’s baby niece
that had been born those very days

Maria wept wept
now Maria laughed
she spread her arms at night
remained with her legs apart

Then her eyes darkened
black black blurry they darkened

The radio played
Maria wept
Maria wept
the radio played

Then Maria
slowly opened her arms
she began to fly
around the room

-- Miltos Sachtouris