Dangerous Compassions

pizza mandala

Ming got a winco cheese pizza, seven bucks, so I put some sliced thin bell pepper and half my veggie sausage.  Pizza mandala!  He liked it.  And it was pretty.

pizza mandala

Here’s how it looked when I pulled it out of the oven.  Ming had checked it a couple times and said it looked pale.  So I was surprised at how toasty it was, when I checked two minutes later.

pizza mandala

Oh hey, what if we started a restaurant called Pizza Mandala, and that was our deal–all pizza mandalas, all the time.  Sounds fun, huh.  Too bad I’m not an entrepreneur.  Damn, I can barely spell it.

rice and beans

Lately I like making beans with greens, and having that over rice.  Sounds so simple, huh.  But it’s nourishing me.  I put coconut milk in the rice if I can.  Or just some coconut oil.  And I put tomato paste in the rice sometimes, or sauce.  Garlic, for sure.


Food is really important to me!  It’s important to my health.  I cook a lot.  That’s life–like sleep, taking a shower, going for a walk.  Chop wood and carry water.  Cook some rice and beans!

My food needs change, over the years.  My acupuncturist tells me some food tips.  I’ve been off wheat for a while, by his suggestion.  That can be hard.  I balance my needs due to different health issues, including the stomach ulcer that almost killed me a couple years ago.  Other health issues I don’t talk about.

Then there’s family, history, culture, traditions, seasons, holidays.  What I’m willing to let go and what I’m not.  There’s animal values stuff, like I don’t eat mammals or birds or reptiles.  I try to dodge bugs also.  Spiders–I never eat spiders, if I can help it.  Nope.

cooking for others

Cooking for other people can be anxious-making, like will they not like it.  Will they think it’s bland?  Will I portion it wrong?  Are the potatoes underdone?  Do I need more fancy garnishes?

Learning how someone likes to eat can be an exciting part of learning who they are!  But guilt and shame can get mixed in it, self-judgement that doesn’t belong.  Like if someone wants candy, desserts, potato chips a lot.  There can be how someone eats vs how they pretend they eat.


I keep thinking of the houseguest Ming and I had two months ago.  All the fruit we put in the guest room for him, like an offering to God.  Making sure he had shampoo and soap in the bathroom, and clean sheets and towels was nice.

But the food was my favorite, feeding him–sacred.  Oatmeal with blueberries, a valid snack of veggies, some green noodle with a nice spicy dressing.  I can’t remember much that I made.  Oh, a special salad with tahini dressing and shredded carrot.

Then we ordered some delicious Thai food one day, and our favorite Middle Eastern food another day.  I felt happy to contribute to his energy and to his cells, his tissues, the movement of his body.

Friends can come and go, but for a few days, he ate the food I made for him.  The good I may or may not have done in his life is debatable, despite all my efforts.  My love may have failed, in some ways.  But it can’t be denied that he was fueled by those foods, for a few days.  I cry thinking of that.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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