I returned to serving food with the Las Vegas Catholic Worker. I took about a year off, and my perspective is different now.
The whole setup is different now, since covid. I used to do bread, which I thought was sacred and fun. Bread of life. That was a metaphor I enjoyed, for years. The eaters could choose which bread they wanted, from the upturned bucket lid, of the food grade white bucket. I enjoyed hearing them, giving the what they asked for, and being their brief bread counselor.
Now we pre-package everything. But respectfully saying good morning to disrespected people still feels meaningful. Accepting their thanks and God bless yous.
I said “God bless you” back to a couple people who said it to me, yesterday. Then I told Ming, “It feels so weird to say God bless you back to people.” I enjoy God in the form of love, the universe, what’s best in us, life force, creative power, Mother Earth, mystery, Shakti energy. But Christian or Catholic God is not an idea I relate to at all.
We thought of other things to reply with. Ming suggests, “Thank you,” might be best. I asked him to take a picture of me serving tea, tea master.
I rapped about my early childhood. It’s a song called girl baby. Please listen, if you get the chance.
I feel vulnerable, talking about those years and that side of my family. The recording quality is poor. But that’s ok with me. I’m not into purity or producer magic. I’m a low-fi lady, Candyfoot Lionized Ultrasound.
Prolific, I’m making, writing, and feeling a lot, lately. Ming tells me it’s a lot for others to take in. Sometimes I feel like I’m on the wrong timescale.
Thank you for caring about me and my projects, loving me for who I am. My friend asked me what it means to me, to live an authentic life, in a workbook zine she made for me, about values and behavior. Here’s my list answer.
Thank you for hearing my truths and enjoying them. I like being compassionate while taking no shit. And having a good balance between serving others and myself.