Dangerous Compassions


“Can I tell you what I’m craving?” I asked Ming.

“What?” he asked.

“I’m craving pumpkin muffin,” I said.  “Mmm, yeah.”

I imagined the muffin, subtle orange in its light brown, with a slightly chewy edge of the muffin top.

“Why don’t you just eat some zinc pills?” Ming asked,

What was he talking about?  I busted out laughing because I remembered that yesterday he was reading our bottle of zinc pills and noticed that each pill has 50 mg of pumpkin in it.

Wtf?  I guess pumpkin is the carrier?   He was checking to make sure the zinc didn’t have vit c in it, at my urging.  I think if you have too much vit c, it gives you diarrhea.  He was about to chew a vit c also.


“Yeah, and if I can’t have a pumpkin muffin, I want french toast,” I said.

“Let’s get some french toast!” Ming said.

“Yeah, but it has to be dairy free.  And the bread needs to have no gluten.  After a while, you switch out everything for everything–it’s like–what food is this?  It’s like fae foood,” I said.

“Yeah,” Ming said.

We lamented food sensitivities.  I see kids eating ice cream and feel a grumpy elder “enjoy your youth” feeling.   Yes, I remember ice cream!


What are you craving, reader?  Do you see cravings as messages from the divine or from your own body (if those two things are separate for you) of what you need as nutrition?  Is that very hippie of me, to see cravings as diving messages, sometimes?  Do you see them that way?

This morning I’m having rice, asparagus, earth balance, and salt for breakfast.  Yum.

craving rice

Also I had half a banana.  Now I’m craving half a can of vegetarian refried beans heated up, with olive oil drizzled on top if I’m lucky.  Ming might go to the store.  He wants paper towels anyway.

Food is tasting very good to me lately.  I’ve been sick.  Food tastes like a miracle, the miracle of being alive.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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