Dangerous Compassions

apology, revolution, four pounds of beans in a tamale pot

The problem with telling people how I feel is they might believe they need to change their behavior. I want to be honest without being controlling. Is that possible?

I apologize to people for when I did or said something I was afraid was hurtful, and some people have a big reaction to that.

A friend I apologized to recently responded by going into Intense Dramatic Argument Mode, and I was like–what? I didn’t need to go into a mode like that. It escalated weirdly, as we reacted to one another’s reactions. I don’t think it needed to be like that.

Apologizing can be casual, for me, like–Please pass the salt. I’m sorry if that weird thing I said about turtles was hurtful to you. I didn’t mean to be critical–it came out wrong. I’ll do better next time. Did you see that thing so and so posted on facebook about whatever?

To me, apology is life. Frictions happen, incidental, easily. I like to thank, recognize, say please, say bless you. To me, those acknowledgements are part of love, a great pleasure of life. As real as fresh basil, fabric napkins, the meow of a moody courtyard cat.

I was afraid I was presumptuous to a friend recently, and I apologized over a polo, and then in their reply polo, they comforted me that I was ok. It was nice.

He’s a newish friend, and we’re figuring out how to do friendship together. It’s beautiful, how it’s a new thing every time. A real, vibrant living thing we create together.

do the dishes

My friend at the Los Angeles Catholic Worker makes these block prints, and then commercially prints prints of the handmade prints. She has an etsy.

I really like this one because I recognize the need for a good mix of the lofty and the grounded, the dishwashing and the theory, and that love comes in many forms. More action than words, sometimes.

It’s easy to see revolution has people in the streets, but it also has people at home, cooking the huge pot of beans, and cleaning up after everyone else went to bed, or everyone is else is in jail or out doing jail support.

Hmm, how would I know that? Yeah, I’ve been there. Making a new world in the shell of the old. Waking up at 3 to start the bean water boiling. We’re in the desert and need to serve at the park rather early.

We can have an hour of utopia. We can have true love for a day.

Or Ming and I have true love all the time. If we argue, and I mention it to friends, they can be concerned. They don’t know Ming and I know how to argue. He’s super fair and kind. He’s an outlier excellent partner person, so Advanced.

Lately, his ocd has been worse, and his mood can alarm me at times, but I need to have faith. Pandemic is weird, and everything’s changing. I want to give him space, stay loose, let him be who he is, offer to help but let him figure stuff out. Encourage what I think is best for him but hope he can make his own decisions.

When I apologize to Ming, I try to explain why I did the wrong thing so he can see where I’m coming from, but not make excuses. I say how sorry I feel, how I see my mistake, and I’ll try to do better.

Definitely I comfort him, if he needs to emote about the harsh conversation. I listen, if he needs to talk about it. We hug. One or the other of us could cry, or we both could cry.

Then I might feel bad for a while. There could be a time of rawness. But we move past it and have other moments. He 100% trusts my good heart, and I trust his.

When friends haven’t known one another for a long time or are getting closer, it can be hard to trust a new friend’s good heart, or how their damage is going to interact with my damage. I always say about me and Ming–our problems play well together.

Well, praise Mother God if you have friends you can be honest with, who really care, and who are doing activism for the good of all, not for their own idle entertainment, or to be king of a tiny fucked up kingdom.

Thank you for coming to my Ed talk. Who ever heard of a talking horse? Yeah, it’s my duty to be moody. I’m professionally crazy. I’d like a master’s degree in authenticity. Love to all.

moody horse

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *