I’ve rented a lot of places over the years, all over the blooming world, but right now I’m in Provincetown. Rentals are always a crap shoot and, especially when I’m stressed, I can get hung up on zeroing in on where things get wonky. Where the landpeople are doing things in ways I never would and what the heck is wrong with them anyway? If I were the queen of the world, tell you what I’d do… I mean, sometimes there’s no toaster, what the heck, no tea kettle, no sharp knives, and, almost always, no place to sit and read – sadly, a Provincetown constant.
All summer I’ve been on the move, away from home. Ructions and upheaval, lots of therapy, lots of bags in my car. My hairdo permanently in disarray from this hurricane wind of change. My family of friends has caught me and held me with generosity and love. A loft and love in Provincetown earlier this summer. A quiet, cozy room in Medford, a gathering up. Permission to take up space and just be in Brookline. Spiritual succor and long walks in Northampton. The comfort and company of an old friend in a scruffy hotel in Waltham where her dream one night eerily tapped into my psychic heartspace. We were wandering, wandering…
My therapist says, “When mammals are hurt, they want to go home.” In the absence of that possibility for the moment, I have denned with people who, some of them, have known me for over 40 years, who’ve seen me through so much and seen me in so many guises.
As I search and flail and try to remember who I am and what I need, they’re witnesses, wise counsel, insouciant companions who remind me to laugh. Compassionate, dear and dear.
Now, for the first time since late July, I’ll be alone for a more extended time. And guess what? The refrigerator sounds like a train. The bedroom gives out onto the busiest, noisiest street in town. There’s no wi-fi.
But oh, I had a snack of peanuts in the dearest wee bowl you’ve ever seen!
And I spent very needed recovery time reading on the very comfy couch. And the view, the view! Out over the bay and beyond.
You, my femme family, my wandering, soul-searching, exacting, zig-zagging, howling and stomping gorgeous hard working overthinking enduring bedazzled sizzling suffering heart burstingly queer to the core, be-sequined sisters, the longer we’re here, the more shit there is and the more shit there is the more likely it is to hit the fan. Let us ride the currents, honor the ups and down, be here for each other, hold each other up, call on each other when we’re both up and down.
Be each other’s company, knowing that being alone, however painful, is also a necessity.
Last night I dreamed I was wearing the wrong glasses, just going through the day not seeing things right.
Your company helps my vision to clear. Your company allows me to claim space and time alone so that this essential clarity can continue to enlighten and encourage.
Here together, on earth together, just for now, just for this brilliant moment. We’re not alone.
We find dear surprises.
We rest.
We take in the view.
Every Monday I offer a Meditation for Queer Femmes, in the spirit of my maternal grandmother, Mimi, who was fabulous, and from whom I inherited her Meditations for Women.
At the Total Femme, my intention has been to post three times a week: Meditations for Queer Femmes on Monday, Pingy-Dingy Wednesday on Wednesday, and Femme Friday on Friday. Lately, I’ve just been concentrating on Mondays. And sometimes weeks go by… I’m here, though. I’m here. Do you have a post you’d like to share? That would be fucking awesome! Contact me at thetotalfemme@gmail.com
The Total Femme 