It was warm this morning when I walked at 6:30. I ran into two people who might be interested in joining us for our driveway yoga. One lady was walking a dog, so I'm reasonably sure she's not allergic as that lady was a week ago. A young man in his thirties drove by and stopped to say that it looked like a hot day. I've seen him several times. He always slows down and looks at me with interest. I remember being looked at like that when I was much younger. Now, I suspect I remind him of his grandmother.
I have been telling Dorothy about the book White Fragility. She has said she wasn't that interested in reading it. First, I thought she felt she was already familiar with the concepts introduced in the book, but no. Her reason was that she had heard bad things about it. She heard that the ideas are presented aggressively. We both believe that presenting difficult ideas and proposed changes, especially for others' benefit, must be handled with skill. Otherwise, we just frighten the people we are trying to change.
I meditated for an hour. I did half an hour on the kneeling bench. This is much more than I could do two days ago. I finished the meditation in my chair.
I bought a Neutrogena Microabrasion tool. I've used it twice so far. I must say I can see an immediate difference. I've read different directions. One source says to use it once a week; another says three times a week. I'm going with the latter. If my skin becomes irritated, I'll know the once-a-week suggestion is better.
Because I've been noticing dry skin around my ankles, I tried the gadget there. I don't know what it did for my skin, but I could feel its impact on my muscles. The machine vibrates at a high frequency. I'm going to try it on all my super tight muscles.
I was full of energy and ambition this morning. This is such a dramatic switch from yesterday I'm beginning to think I'm becoming bipolar. A more positive view is that my telephone time with Dorothy and several friends and that great walk I shared with Darby changed my outlook.
It poured while I took one of my naps. From the promised stifling heat of the early morning, it became chilly again. As I lay napping, I was bothered by the stiff breeze. It left me wondering if I had left a fan on. It was unpleasantly cold. Yes, I live in the tropics.
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Musings:
I have no personal involvement with what happened to Afro-Americans historically in this country. I am a first-generation American. However, I am now part of the structure supporting racism in the country, whether I like it or not. I have been aware that my life is easier because I am white.
Religious Jewish men bow and thank God they were not born a woman. Some of the motivation for that prayer was probably a tribute to the risks women took bearing children. However, it also serves as a denigration of women. I am aware that I am fortunate not to have been born with black skin. Many cups have passed my lips. I wasn't born with any variety of sexual confusion, I wasn't born with some disability, I wasn't born into abject debilitating poverty. Some of that is just plain luck. I could have been born in a concentration camp in Germany. So many horrible possibilities, all of which passed me by. Every time I learn of someone driven to commit some terrible crime, I think, thank God that cup passed my lips.
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