Dangerous Compassions

death by mountain lion

Sometimes a thing you’re scared of can be a thing you want, or vice versa.  They can turn into each other.

I was afraid of death by mountain lion for so long.  First in Orange County during grad school, more than twenty years ago, at a huge park with copious mountain lion warning signs.

Then when I lived in Rovana, where mountain lions ate pets.  I was afraid to go for a walk by myself.  On untraveled roads, my mind churned on mountain lion thoughts.  I drove myself nuts!

Then I saw Jaguar when I was in the hospital.  That changed my life.


This cabin in Arizona that Ming and I visit–some nights we hear coyotes yipping.  You know who likes to eat coyotes.  The owner told us the first time we came here that mountain lions come down from the nearby mountains to hunt.

The other night, Ming was going outside to look for Mars.  I said he might see a mountain lion out there by our car, eating a cow.  Some nights, cows wander around outside.

I told Ming the mountain lion would have cow blood on its fur and pause to give Ming a look like, “What do you want?”

I told Ming if a mountain lion ate me, that would be a wild minute or two, as I died.  He said, “That’s not a night topic.”

I told him it’s ok, death by mountain lion.  Better than car wreck or a stroke.


We went to an art museum in Utah yesterday, speaking of ways to die.  Downwinder nuclear art, with blast craters.

art museum

test site

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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