Dangerous Compassions

no sleep

I was eating a toasted everything bagel in the middle of the night.  I had some labneh I was putting on it.  Great idea.

But some labneh fell off the knife and onto my computer.  Ming was eating chips and salsa in the middle of the night.  I asked him for a paper towel to clean up the computer labneh.

Somehow I was doing a poor job.  I would wipe up some labneh but manage to smear more labneh.  I couldn’t manage the paper towel complexity.  “I’m doing this in the worst way!”  Ming and I started to laugh.

Then he got me another paper towel and ate some watermelon.  He’s thinking about meteorites.  I read the lyrics to No Sleep Till Brooklyn.  Wow–too beastie, too boyish.  Seems like women are treated like trash in a way that’s supposed to be appealing.  Yuck.  It was 1986.

The good news: my friend followed through, translating the series of poems I wrote for a fundraiser zine for Immigrant Families Together.

The also good news: I have a wonderful plan for my retreat.  Along with prayer, singing, rest, meditation, I want to make a special dance for a special purpose.

I remember when Ming and I got married.  I wanted to choreograph a strange dance to do during the ceremony.  In my mind, I could almost see it–something alien, angular, funny, fun.  A newish kind of dance that might surprise.  I asked my best friend to help, and she said no.  The ceremony was great anyway.

Two antennas met on a roof, fell in love, and got married.  The ceremony was okay, but the reception was excellent.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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