Sunday, May 26, I arrived at church after the sermon. We had a guest preacher; she’s been here before, but I missed that sermon, too. Her bio, printed in the bulletin, says, “Her work focuses on dismantling white supremacy.” Those words trigger me. But in fact I don’t know what they mean — TO HER. I know what they mean to certain other people, but I don’t know what they mean TO HER. I have never heard her speak on the subject. I am in no position to judge — or prejudge.
What to do with my triggeredness? At BK after church, I prayed for her health, happiness and prosperity; that she would succeed at every task to which she puts her hand. I did not pray that she change her mind — about anything. In my view, such prayers have no positive effect, and would only perpetuate the darkness I want to change to light.
Monday morning, May 27, I was in Starbucks. The table where I sit faces the door. In came a man pushing a woman in a wheelchair. I know this man; he’s thoroughly demented, but you’d never know that without talking with him. He makes money selling these toy balloons that he twists into animal shapes. He’s really good at it. As to the woman, I perceived that she strove diligently for many years to get into that wheelchair. She’s dedicated her life to becoming helpless.
In seeking my own upward mobility, I am again at the stage where I’m tempted to look down on people whose lives are headed in the opposite direction. It’s as if the vibes they emanate are dissonant to my own. In the end, I need to accept them as they are; to live and let live. I’m not at that point yet.
Related: Coming abstractions
I had to find some way to sublimate my anger. At this writing, I don’t recall exactly what I did. It may have been as simple as to visualize them surrounded by a brilliant cloud of light, feeding my energies into that cloud, loving them as they are.