Monday, May 31, 2010
Hail, Full Of Grace

Ten years of swimming. This is the pile of clorine-i-fied swimsuits from a decade of water aerobics and swimming self-education that I've collected. Each suit's like a trophy. I can imagine that my industry in the water wore out the fabric so. But they're all threadbare at the seat from the great meeting of gluteus maximus and chemically-treated water.

A fellow aqua-nut told me that I looked graceful when I do the leg sets that we do in class -- that are like exercises at the bar. We work our legs getting a remarkable resistance underwater and a soothing articulation at the same time. This is the big plus for the mature. Aqua aerobics works you hard without pounding you. Water lifts you in spots that take a beating on land -- in upright movement. It challenges you to move the extremities against more resistance than is met on land -- in upright stance and motion. And blissfully no one sees beneath the water. Even silly movements can feel exciting. And extending a leg can feel like Swan Lake when the water buoys it and pushes it and finally you understand what some of those movement teachers were talking about. Shamelessly I lose myself in the pirouette we do with our legs lifted. We are Margot Fonteyn or somebody for those few seconds -- and the water does this -- facilitates this.

Posted at 06:24 am by Tourmaline

Audio Mobil
January 5, 2015   08:45 PM PST
very nice article on this page

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Onward only! I can't turn back and I won't turn around.

Celebrating eleven years of swimming!

stroking onward and upward
swimming for the wall 2010

“Centuries later historians would ridicule as a numbers game attempts to count the millions forced to suffer the trauma of the transatlantic passage. Yet for those who witnessed the murderous raids by Arabs, Europeans, or hostile black Africans upon their communities, for those who were discarded on their march to the African coast, for those who were banned to the hold of the ships, for those whose bodies were cast overboard, for those who made it to the unknown on the other side of the ocean, every single one mattered. For every single woman, every single man represented the difference between life and death, between the "I am" and chattel, between history and the void, between the voice and silence. For every single one defined the whole.”

from Black Imagination and the Middle Passage by Maria Diedrich, Henry Louis Gates, Carl Pedersen

“As you were speaking this morning of little children, I was looking around and thinking it was most beautiful. But I have had children and yet never owned one, no one ever owned one; and of such there's millions -- who goes to teach them? You have teachers for your children but who will teach the poor slave children?
I want to know what has become of the love I ought to have for my children? I did have love for them, but what has become of it? I cannot tell you. I have had two husbands but I never possessed one of my own. I have had five children and never could take one of them up and say, 'My child' or 'My children,' unless it was when no one could see me.
I believe in Jesus, and I was forty years a slave but I did not know how dear to me was my posterity. I was so beclouded and crushed. But how good and wise is God, for if the slaves knowed what their true condition was, it would be more than the mind could bear. While the race is sold of all their rights -- what is there on God's footstool to bring them up? Has not God given to all his creatures the same rights? How could I travel and live and speak? When I had not got something to bear me up, when I've been robbed of all my affections for husband and children.
My mother said when we were sold, we must ask God to make our masters good, and I asked who He was. She told me, He sit up in the sky. When I was sold, I had a severe, hard master, and I was tied up in the barn and whipped. Oh! Till the blood run down the floor and I asked God, why don't you come and relieve me -- if I was you and you'se tied up so, I'd do it for you.”

Sojourner Truth, 1856

This text of her address was recorded by the acting secretary of the Friends of Human Progress Association of Michigan, Thomas Chandler, and published in the Anti-Slavery Bugle

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