Dangerous Compassions

ancestor bird

My stomach hurt, and I hadn’t eaten anything weird or new.  I have these pills with enzymes in them, that I can take.  So I took one and did some stretches I like.

I tip a little, to each side, as I stretch.  My fundus is where my ulcer was / is, which is a weird place.  I have the idea that stuff can get trapped there, gas or whatever.  When I tip, I hope that helps.

Ming was out at his new dentist.  I pat my own chest, like a caregiver burping a baby.  Yes, I did feel better, in less than half an hour.


I’m glad I can help myself.  Sometimes I feel like all I do is self-care.  Not that I never care for others.  They can be the same thing, at times.

I didn’t understand, the things people do to keep ourselves well.  So much I viewed as people wasting their time.  Now I know a lot of it is soothing themselves, anesthetizing themselves, trying to convince themselves they have worth.  Trying to convince themselves that they’re safe.  Money can symbolize safety.  Or beauty stuff like shaving or putting on makeup to feel safe also.

new friend’s bracelets

I’m getting to know a new friend.  We were on a tea date zoom.  I asked about the colorful bracelets she wears.  Does she wear them all the time.  She showed them to me.  I was dazzled by their beauty.

She has amazing taste in art.  She showed me this doll with blue hair and a cape, she found on the road.  Photos she took a long time ago, a head she sculpted.  Seeing her art was a soul-nourishing pleasure.

I love learning other ways of being.  My spaces are chaotic, and my art can be too.

She asked about my jewelry.  I told her, “I have a lot of jewelry, but I don’t wear it much.”  I explained how I don’t usually wear it at home, but she only sees me at home, over zoom.

I wear jewelry when I go out, as a way to prepare for out, or keep myself safe.  The way my mom would put on make-up, preparing herself to be strong.  Seemed about control and being beautiful–a way to have more say in how she was seen, which would be advantageous for her.

Mama loved home.  “There’s no place like home,” she would say.  Coming back home after a trip, she would be so relieved.

I put on jewelry to ready myself for the barrage of input, sensory stimulation, and judgment I face, outside.  Then I shed the jewelry when I come home–a way to relax and be myself again.  A preferred self.



Ming and I cycled to the Worker for meditation yesterday morning.  It was a good ride, a happy part of the day.  The amaranth is blooming again.  The desert is amazing.

Sleeping for four and half hours was nice.  I made some super delicious pesto also.  And worked on art depicting an archaeopteryx fossil–ancestor bird.  The London Specimen–the first, from 1861.  I’m not happy with how these turned out, still thinking about what I learned.

art advice

I asked Ming for advice, and it was cool to talk about art with him.  We looked at the original and considered how I could do the feather part differently.  I like the bones ok; the feather parts, I cannot abide by.

We talked about accuracy, detail.  Shadows–I told him I have no idea, about shadows.  He mentioned how archaropteryx are iconic and known.  I said, “I don’t need to be super accurate–I just want them to be good arts.”  He mentioned the backgrounds, like he thought they were not helping.  I said how I like to have another layer to it.

dino paintings
[three arts depict an archaeopteryx fossil, a feathered dinosaur that’s a link between dinos and birds. two are yellow and orange–one is dark green and orange and says Ancestor Bird.]
other people’s problems

Other people’s problems can seem more finite, solvable, interesting.  Our own can seem impossible.  So interwoven with other stuff of life, that I am totally hopeless.  I see the appeal of helping others and neglecting ourselves.

I also see the appeal of amaranth.  It’s bright and gorgeous, weird, a vibrant dark pink red, makes delicious food, volunteers, gets big and towering, and makes people smile.

red flower
[brilliant red amaranth blooms in a garden]

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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