dangerous compassions

I call you / from the comet's cradle

Tuesday, March 10, 2020

not in Las Vegas

We went to Santa Fe.  It wasn't how I expected.  We saw friends and ate delicious foods.  I got a sunburn and a headache.  I sat in the cathedral and was unprepared for the emotions I'd feel there, praying and crying in a pew.


I knew these were tulip leaves from when Ming and I grew the same.  I recognize the red on their edges.  I predict the tulips will be beautiful.


I like this art I saw at arcosanti--it reminded me of synapses.

Our view from the room we stayed in was this mesa thing.


In Santa Fe, Ming paid a park bench poet for two poems.  Honestly, I don't care for them.


I used to take a lot of graffiti pics, so here's one for old times.  I'm feeling like the opposite of a loner, lately.

I wanted to see a friend and was lying in bed having dreams while I was still awake.  I felt malfunctiony and very uncomfortable.  I couldn't push it.  I slept while Ming saw the friend.

I want a hug.  I have a headache.  I'm drinking a lot of water.  I want a deep comfort.

I wrote in the prayer request book at the cathedral my request for help with being on the right path for me, learning what I need to learn, and doing service based on my particular gifts.

My peace walk friend asked me if my parents were still in Las Vegas.  I said I came from the coast, and how my parents had both died.  I said, "I don't know where they are.  I hope they're ok.  But they're probably not in Las Vegas."

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