Dangerous Compassions


The friend who visits from Florida asked if he could bring anything from that tropical place.  I asked for the love of a manatee, the smell of a mango flower, the lost tooth of a shark, a seed from a nutritious tree, and a thimbleful of water from the fountain of youth.

As far as I know, the friend did not bring these materials.  The water from the fountain of youth was for Ming, of course.  He never wants to die.


But the strange part is that I have another friend in Florida, someone very steady and trustworthy to me.  One of the four people in this world who I really trust.

She sent mail to me which arrived just as the other friend was arriving by airplane.  One of the mails included a postcard of a manatee.  I was surprised by the coincidence.

Then the box she sent included many amazing things she had found on the beach and made from beach stuff, including around 20 shark’s teeth.

shark's teeth

It felt funny and very fitting, how I asked one friend for something, who did not bring shark’s teeth.  And I asked the other friend for nothing, but she knew it was just my birthday and showered me with gifts she had made or found, including me in her life with complete generosity.

This clam shell adorned with gorgeous sparkling beads and glittery materials is one of the most amazing things I’ve ever seen.  I can’t believe my friend made this, and gave it to me.  Seems she remembers that orange in my favorite color.


Feels royal and vulvic, so pretty, such a thrilling combination of humble clam shell and gorgeous honoring of that humbleness.  Such pretty shape.

There’s this bone that’s beaded also.  Wow!  I’m sorry my photos don’t do these justice.


I made a shell mandala from the beautiful shells she sent.  I’d never made one before.  I feel very fortunate.


the lesson

The lesson I could take from this situation could be–ask and the universe provides, one way or another.  But that denies the importance of noticing patterns and facts about how the universe provides.

I prefer the lesson that some people will give, and some people will take.  Who do I want to do reality with?

Part of what I need to learn this lifetime is that it’s my choice, who I give my energy to with love.  I need to give to the nourishing friends who are there for me and listen to me.  Not the friends who encourage my bad behaviors at their expense.  I feel like a shivering giving tree.  “Take my leaves, boy!”

not innocent

There are people who hurt me over and over, while telling themselves they’re innocent.  And there are people who listen to me, then build me up as I recover from the ones who hurt me.  They hear me explain the situations, and they shake their heads as I cry from being harmed by the people who take.

I can feed the friends who have emotional intelligence, communicate with honesty, lift me up every day.  They ask how I am, ask, “How can I support you?” and increase my health.  Or I can feed the friends who take, deceive, require years of therapy afterward, and blow smoke in my face.

In some ways, I feel doomed to make a lot of mistakes.  But as I become more of an adult and heal from my past, I can choose to feed the friends who are there for me and do love in practice, not just strategic words or performances.


Please, Mother God.  Bless me to be kind to myself and others.  Please help me live according to my values and treat truth as my main dish, not a luxury condiment to sprinkle sparingly.

Please help me stay hungry for the truth and settle for no less.  Ardently I ask for your help feeding the dear ones who can see me for who I am and honor me reciprocally.  Please help me not throw my love away on those who suck me dry.

I get confused thinking everyone and everything is my baby.  I commit easily and deep, which is a reason I often feel like I’m nursing triplets and don’t have enough breast milk to feed them.

Please, Mother God.  Bless me to make better choices and be there for myself, caring for my well-being so I can live another day, to serve in a way that’s sustainable and healthy for everyone.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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