Dangerous Compassions

August and everything after

My friend had a birthday–we went to pupusas.  It was fun to celebrate.

Here’s a pic Ming took of our first okra and a small mantis you can see at the base of the okra.  It looks kinda blue, doesn’t it.

Here’s a larger mantis on the tree collard.

Here’s the Las Vegas Radical Mental Health Collective journaling workshop held Saturday, a success.  A few other people showed up after this picture was taken.

Here’s me and Ming before the workshop started with the lady who facilitated it.

Ming helped me remove a bunch of metal clasps from envelopes.  I often think about “the right tool for the right job.”

This morning my friend R stopped by.  He wanted to reconnect after some time away.  I was hesitant, feeling annoyed that he’s been home a few days but not available.  Community takes a lot of energy.  We hugged and I told him some things that have been on my mind.

Last month, I was confused about friendship.  I felt I had too many friends and was spread too thin.  How much do you need in common, what’s a dealbreaker, when to say goodbye.  How to have fewer friends when every person is a miracle.  How to prioritize.  Also, chosen family, and how something airy like friendship was hurting me with its airiness, like I needed it to be more trustworthy, when by its nature, it’s a changeable thing, in motion.

This month, I feel confused about vulnerability and openness.  What do I share with who, how safe am I.  How strong am I, to be judged for my past, beliefs, needs, behaviors.  What I can lose and gain by being very open.  Feeling good about myself enough not to care what people think.  But if I’m too weird, can I lose certain good things in my life because I get misunderstood or am considered too different.

I’m part of the family of life.  All the things a person can do, they’re not too weird, are they?  A long time ago, a friend told me about reincarnation–we all do everything.  We come back so many times, we have all the experiences.  We’re all the murdered and the murderer, the abused and the abuser, the vibrant artist and the boring dullard, the iconoclast and the icon writer.  Farmer, teacher, artist, retarded person, butcher, mother, shaman, astronomer, thief, seamstress, sex worker, soldier, peace activist.  I don’t know what I believe about the afterlife, but I find that idea appealing and sort of relaxing.

I used to be so guarded, I was kind of paranoid, private to the point of fear.  Now I’m not so scared.  But I heard a quote, “It’s good to have an open mind, but not so open that it falls out.”  Ming always tells me, you can’t unsay a thing.  He likes to err on the side of caution, at times.  I have a deep desire to be known and loved for who I am.  Ming is more judicious and stable in himself.

I believe if you’re honest and open, it helps other people feel safe to do the same.  So it’s like a ministry or political thing, for me.

I’m trying to find a doctor who will listen to me.  I did some research, found some dead ends, asked a few friends, and have more research to do.  Wish me luck.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

2 replies on “August and everything after”

That's a great workshop turnout. Wow! Did the lady who ran it have a zine or workbook? I was noticing something on the tables. Very cool. Congrats!

yeah, Ming and I made the zine for her. she gave us her prompts and photos, and Ming made the cover, and I assembled everything into a zine, and we bound it with the help of friends. it was a labor of love. she's very happy with how it turned out.

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