Dangerous Compassions

sun worshipper, different ways to be crazy, garlic

Cicadas are pretty weird.  Why would a bug make a sound like sizzling electricity?  Does everyone think they sound like a loud problem?  I felt they were a summer force, more than an actual insect.  But then I saw their exoskeletons clinging to this tree.  I guess they really are real.

I wanted to tell Ming a thing from a long time ago, but then I ended up telling him the whole story.  It took at least half an hour.  Horrible stuff from when I was young, problems leading to problems.  I wanted him to be proud of me that I survived all that and am doing well.  He said he was proud of me. Not sure why it matters…

“All that matters is what you think about yourself,” he told me later.

“I’m not allowed to care what you think too?” I asked.  He’s not a regular person–he’s my spouse.  On one hand, I know what he means.  On the other, just let me need what I need.  Give me a break.

Sometimes I wish I had a teeshirt that says–I’ve had just about enough of your newage bullshit.  Then I could just point to the shirt.  But I guess if you can’t take the heat, you should get out of the kitchen.  I can dish it, but I can’t take it?  Some food-related metaphor applies here.  Eat your heart out?

Before that we were having a conversation about doctors, my ulcer bleed, blood sugar issues, misdiagnosis, medication.  I was mad about being given shoddy tools and then criticized for not using them, that doctors are comfortable but I’m not, that the medical system is set up in a way that hurts me and many other people.

“Yeah, you would think that–you’re a hippie!” I said to him, can’t remember what about.  “Just look at your shirt!”  We were laughing.  He’s wearing his new orange teeshirt I bought for him, with a sunflower that says–Go solar.

I wanted a shirt that says–Renewable is doable.  Then there’s a beautiful picture of a sun.  I wrote to Syracuse Cultural Workers to ask they make it in my size.  The wrote back–it’s not profitable.

I’m not super into solar panels, but I love the sun.

There are all different ways to be crazy.  I’ve cultivated a deep wellness.  Sure I have mood swings, hear voices, am way too sensitive, get depressed anxious paranoid, stay up half the night writing, and have values that don’t match what they’re supposed to, at all.  But that’s ok–I can trust myself.  My mood could go haywire, but I always have me.  It might have to do with faith.

You could be crazy with a deep wellness, like me.  You could be crazy with a deep unwellness, like something is seriously wrong in your spirit, and there’s no reason to have faith that you’ll prevail.  A long time ago, I was like that.  I didn’t think I’d last long.  Somehow I survived all that.

I didn’t want Ming to try to control what I thought about doctors, but then I was trying to control what he thought about doctors, so it didn’t make much sense.  I can think whatever I think–he can think whatever he thinks.  He and I are on the same page about almost everything, though.  When the value is really important to me, sometimes I feel alone in my opinion and like his solidarity.

I thought I was really good at love.  I do have a big heart and am not afraid to feel.

This morning I was making this mediterranean chickpea salad.  I was making it in stages.  Also, I can’t have raw onions and don’t like raw bell pepper, so I left those out and added some sundried tomatoes.  It was time to make the vinaigrette.  I was putting it off because squeezing lemons is a chore I don’t like.

Finally I had all the dressing ingredients in a little bottle.  The recipe said to shake it till it emulsified.  I wasn’t sure I shook it enough.  Next time I’ll definitely add some garlic.  My friend tried some.  She said maybe basil also.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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