Dangerous Compassions

birthday person

Yesterday was Ming’s birthday party.  He’s a birthday person!  I’d had around three hours of sleep and was emotional and having a hard time doing anything.

Sleep has moved from a second tier problem to a first tier problem.  So I would like to throw it off a pier.  Chuck it like a starfish!  But I had some theanine last night and slept pretty good.  Feels better to decide to try stuff and not just hope.

So yeah, I was surprised I could stay at the party the whole time.  I’d predicted I would last only ten or 15 minutes.  I did some embroidery in the sun and was social a bit.  I avoided the tummy-harming, delicious-looking pizza and had a small bite of Ming’s cake, for love.

birthday person

We took off our masks for a group pic using R’s tripod.  It’s funny J was asking for the tripod.  They negotiated.  It’s J’s birthday next.

group shot

Community, we have our individual relationships, group relationship, and carry our family traumas and joys into it.  Ask, give, joke, share, have conflict, suffer, inter-depend, and do life.

This one is funny because R is 33, I’m 44, Ming is 55, and M is 66.


We took a trike / bike ride earlier in the day.  I was happy to dust off my trike seat with my ass.  I thought of a blessing: May your trike seat never be dusty.


It was a good ride with no pain and new trash to see.  But a lot of people were out and about, with intense energy.  So we only rode about 20 minutes.

food not bombs

Then we made vegan split pea soup with the surplus government yellow split peas that are so common, around here lately, for Food Not Bombs.  I forgot how good it feels, to feed hungry people with dumpstered or surplus food.  There are many meaningful things I do, with radical mental health, peace work, love, and community.  But Food Not Bombs is a direct, joy-filled favorite.

I feel so grateful for the opportunity to serve, that I could cook this simple food, but avoid the social struggle of distributing it.  Thank you to the new friend who picked up the box of cups and brought it to people under a bridge and at urban campsites, as part of your usual Saturday serving.

He told Ming the soup is a treat, as they usually get peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.  I thought longingly of days long past, feeding 80 or more people abundant deliciousness at Huntridge Circle Park.  Those were the days!

I had agreed to provide 20 servings, individually packaged, but I made a mistake and didn’t cook enough soup for the size of the cups.  I made just more than two pounds of yellow split peas, but I should have made three pounds.  Oh well.  If all went well, 14 people got hot, delicious vegan soup.  We will do better next time.

It’s split peas, water, salt, pepper, and the smallest bit of cayenne.  How could that be so good?  Peas are fucking magical.

And I feel like a good anarchist, doing Food Not Bombs.  Where’s my black hoodie.  I love free, DIY caring for one another, resisting capitalism for fun.  And Ming said it was a perfect birthday activity.  To give as he has been given to.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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