Dangerous Compassions


I love kabocha squash.



This kabocha kept me kitchen company for months, and then we did the photoshoot before I cleaved it.  I am a pumpkin hugger, after all.

Today my mom has been departed from the earth as a living person for one year.  Can you believe it?  What a journey I’ve done.  Can I take a moment to cry-brag?

  1. I did not go to the hospital this year even once.
  2. Did not have to go back on my bipolar cocktail of sedating psych medications–I feared I would.
  3. I did not hit, shove, punch, throw shit at, or otherwise physically attack any person.
  4. Kept doing basics like eating food, taking a shower, brushing my teeth, and sleeping.
  5. Made new friends, wrote letters, made a ton of zines, sang, helped care for the people who live here as a Las Vegas Catholic Worker, and helped run the Las Vegas Radical Mental Health Collective.
  6. I helped Ming do some things also, like eat delicious foods, help run Nevada Desert Experience, demonstrations, streets medics trainings.  True love and sacred disabled interdependence every day.
  7. I improved my health and well-being riding trike and enjoyed many new freedoms.

Do you know how amazing it is, I did all of these things?  I was crying last night, hugging and thanking Ming for being central, helping with every single one of those things.

Friends helped also.  Thank you, friends.

to do

Today I have a ritual over zoom with my loved friend, about my mama.  I need to gather a few things for that: photo, candle, poem, song.

Two good friends will come over distantly this afternoon to courtyard sit with me.

A good friend in Canada will zoom with me, in a chill way.

Two friends sent comfort packages.  I’ll open those today.

I would like flowers.  I will see what’s blooming outside and ask Ming to go to a store, if nothing much is blooming.

Also I would like to draw pictures of pottery.  Sounds prefect.  There’s a Sufjan Stevens album about his mom dying, Carrie and Lowell, that I want to listen to.  I listened to it every day, for more than a year, a while back.  So it’s part of my mind, but I haven’t heard it straight through in a minute.  It helped me learn some important things.

I would like to look at the sky.  My community member is making some soup she will bring for me around noon.  I have two Sunday phone calls, every Sunday.

Hmm, sounds like a big day.  I asked people for help.  That was smart.  Trying to turn a day of suffering into a holiday.  I think it will work.  I got eight hours sleep, which is a blessing.  Definitely I’d like to txt the two relatives I speak with.


I pulled this card this morning, from the You Are Not Too Much deck my good friend gave me.  This idea is really important to me.  For many years I’ve been saying a similar thing.

Balance, feeling solid, centered, grounded, stable–being in a safe place in the middle can be helpful.  But the extremes are where a lot of magic happens.

Do you want a moderate omelette, poem, orange, art experience, orgasm, or wedding?  Giving birth to a baby, taking a long awaited trip.  A dream?  A life?  No way!  I was diagnosed bipolar 1 for a reason.

I want to be kind and enjoy the pleasures Earth hands me.  Otherwise, extremes are ok with me.  I’m not kind of anarchist, half in love with Ming, or semi-verbal.  I’m all that, all day, every day.

Thank you for celebrating with me the one year anniversary of my mom’s death, and for stepping with me into my second year of grief.  I set aside two years to grieve, and I am so glad we made it through the first one.  Thank you for your help.


Kabocha seeds to plant in our garden–something about survival.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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