Dangerous Compassions

how to heal

I made a meme.  My friend sent me a link to this zine, and it included the manifesto an anarchist wrote–I missed all that, in the summer.  But one sentence in the manifesto stood out to me–I really related to it.  It was about healing through service.

Volunteering and helping others helps the others, but it really helps the helper too.  I tell people that and don’t think they believe me.  They might think they don’t have time or need that energy for themselves.  But most people would really benefit from it.

So I was looking for pictures of service, and the best I could come up with was a picture of a pot of black-eyed peas about to get cooked for Food Not Bombs back when Ming and I cooked for Food Not Bombs.  Around four pounds of black-eyes peas with water in this big tamale pot.

To me, cooking a lot of beans symbolizes love and service, but I thought most people wouldn’t feel that way.  So I was surprised to see that on facebook it’s been viewed quite a bit.  It says right now the meme has been shared 26 times and has 2038 views.  Not bad.

Ming went to the Bagel Cafe yesterday with friends and brought home some treats for me, at my request–bagels and a slice of cheesecake.  It’s pretty big so I cut it on half.  Wow, amazing!  I love that place.

Honestly, it was more than “with friends.”  There’s an officer at the test site.  This is the second time Ming has gone out with him.  Trying to build bridges. 

Some people find this reprehensible–how can you break bread with the enemy?  It makes total sense to me.  I like friendship, common ground, learning from all kinds of people.  I don’t like his job and think the test site should not exist.  Clean it up as best you can, make inaccessible the parts that are too contaminated, and open it to the Native peoples and everyone.

But that doesn’t mean I hate everyone who works there.  I want to love him and see how he got where he is.  How we can make the world better for everyone so people don’t do that job?

As for me, actually sitting at a table with him–cops freak me out.  Ming says the officer came in his cop costume complete with gun–yuck!  I can’t handle that too well, but I support Ming 100% in showing up. 

Also, they paid for the meal.  Your tax dollars at work, I guess.  Sorry about that, taxpayers.

Ming is the master of clocks, but we couldn’t figure out how to fix this little clock I have that tells me the temperature in our house and outside in the laundry closet.  I think I’ll put a little piece of tape over the time.

We went to a class at a craft store, monoprinting, but I messed up the registration, and we didn’t have materials, but the teacher let us stay and learn by watching, which was great.  She was a good teacher.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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