Meditations for Queer Femmes – High Risk

Even though I perfectly well know the reason why my oncologist wants me to get a breast scan every six months, it was sobering to say the least last week when I read on my (happily all-clear) MRI results that I’m at high risk for breast cancer. I’m a word girl, so there’s that. Especially the written word is powerful, making things real, bringing them into focus. HIGH RISK! Right there on the damn patient portal. But it’s also something about having to get to know yourself in a whole new place. Who am I now, this high risk femme?

The older you get, the more you get. Creaky, forgetful, nostalgic, confused, fatigued, cranky, impatient, liverish, nursing many a regret. The time gets shorter and passes more quickly. Being an older woman doesn’t come with a lot of perks in our society. Ah, the moment when your medical caregiver begins to speak to you like a geriatric moran! It sneaks right up on you and suddenly you’re right there in the middle of it. Change after change. How can you possibly keep up?

I told my therapist the other day that I pretty much feel in my heart the same way I did when I was 25. She looked skeptical, cocked her wise head, and asked a truly (I almost typed “turdy”) therapist question, “What would you say to your 25-year old self if you could speak with her?” Oh, for heaven’s sake, I don’t know! And I also don’t know what she would say to my almost-62-year-old self. Enjoy yourself? It’s later than you think? My grandad had that excellent song on the 8-track player in his Chevy Oldsmobile.

Ok, maybe that is what I would say. My now-retired other therapist used to say that it’s our duty to be as happy as we can. Be happy first, spread queer joy second. Use your gifts for good. So what if you’re high risk? It would suck if that’s a reason anyone stopped doing what they can to feel like they’ve got a wee corner in the big picture, a sweet sketch that catches the eye of the people who need it and gives them an encouraging smile.

Focus, focus, focus, that is a tall order. It’s always been a tall order, I think, but it’s even taller and gnarlier what with our infolicious moment-to-moment click click click. Ding ding ding! Notification embarkation!

Today, my harried, textingmailingcheckingscrolling potato chip darlings, my in-the-middle-of-all-the-shit polymediamour persnickity hanging on by your fingernails bodaciousnesses, embrace it, embrace the high risk. Let it kick your ass in any way it can, even if, especially if, it means giving yourself a fucking break because look how hard you’re working all the time, on everything.

You are shining, shining, shining!

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

Published in: on November 20, 2023 at 10:10 AM  Leave a Comment  
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Meditations for Queer Femmes – Naughty

Here in the idlewylde of Provincetown where I am denning for most of October, here sandwiched up between Commercial Street and the cloud-filled sky above the moving ocean, one day last week I woke up and, in a moment of queer femme wisdom and grace, realized that today would be Total Femme Day.

All me.

All the time.

All by myself.

Ooh, what did you do? you ask, my doting dizzy delectable queer femme sisters.

Chi kung on the deck as the sun rose.

Bask in the blessing of a great blue heron flying right over my head I could hear its wing beats.

Breakfast reading my book.

Big nap on the couch.

Catch myself in the mirror – damn, I look happy! Relaxed, even, slowed down.

Ponder my current jigsaw puzzle, put in a piece or two, ahhhhhhhh, so satisfying!

Drive to the Truro library, browse, banter with the librarian, check out some books.

Run a grocery errand, stop in the thrift store, consider getting gas and decide to wait.

Back home to sit on the beach all bundled up reading my book and watching a cormorant in the waves, dive under swim, pop up paddle, dive under swim, pop up paddle.

I went out on the deck a lot.

In the evening I had a glass of wine out there. There was a moment when the seagulls flying overhead were lit up on their underside by the setting sun.

To light!

To flying!

Do do do tell, TTF, honey, what didn’t you do? you ask, my daring divine dishy queer femme sisters.

Screens. I didn’t do screens. No computer, no phone, no tv.

No

s

c

r

e

e

e

e

e

e

e

e

n

s

I’m not saying it was a breeze or easy. Even though I felt reasonably secure in knowing that everyone I care about is doing ok, that there was nothing pending I had to address right that day, that devastating news, nice news, connection and questions and hellos and oooh, that’s interesting could all wait, it wasn’t that easy.

But I came into it. I flexed some brain and heart muscles and gave myself a few little talking tos, and I came into it.

In fact, I started feeling rather deliciously naughty.

Like I was getting away with something. Like I was being such a bad, bad girl.

It’s not that I couldn’t feel all the nasty prickly icky nibbly teeth gnashing and crashing and trying to bite me back to the on-screen world, but I kept accessing my fuck no and you can fucking wait and I’ll fire it all back up to-fucking-morrow, and I let it prickle prickle prickle until it trickled away.

I got to where I just leaned into that delicious rebel feeling and went went went with it.

My own brain and heart and spirit and need and soul and imagination directed me, and I welcomed and embarced my marvelous, naughty, Total Femme Day.

Oh, you elegant biscottis, you cuddle puddles, you lessons in glamor and spitfire and ardor!

What does a day just for you look like? Manifest it, bring it into being, call it to you! The controls we labor under crowd out our own intentions and inventions and desires. But there is space for the taking.

Take up space.

Allow your mind to wander.

Do something that makes you giggle, makes you skip, makes you remember your absolute gorgeous unique and beatific deep down femme soul.

Be naughty today.

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. This Monday, special post from the stoop of Womencrafts. xoxoxo

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

Published in: on October 23, 2023 at 3:01 PM  Leave a Comment  
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Meditations for Queer Femmes – Living for the Apocalypse

Today I was much on the phone with my mother’s health insurance company as I sort out claims and coverage.

            “Do you mind if I place you on that hold?” says the agent, and I listen to the same strange riff of repeating music. “Ooh, wah wah!” sing the ladies, and suddenly I’m having a slight out-of-body experience, rather common lately, to tell you the truth, where I sort of float sideways and stand beside myself, thinking, “Hmm, what exactly is going on here?”

            My 89-year old mother just got out of the hospital, and is currently receiving 24/7 home health care at her assisted living facility. There wasn’t a diagnosis for her changed behavior and constant dozing, but one of the aides told me that my mom had been up six times the night before, wanting to get ready to go down to breakfast. I guess every time she wakes up, she has a sense of urgency that she needs to be somewhere. Which, come to think of it, might be a big reason her behavior was off: she has completely exhausted herself.

            It’s pretty obvious that she needs another level of care so that her energy and attention can be gently redirected and she can get a little assistance staying in the reassuring present moment without stressing that she’s got something else she’s supposed to be doing. That’s what I was working on today for her – ooh, wah wah! – as I waited on the phone. I am very glad to do it, too, because she can’t manage on her own anymore; she can’t even express what might or might not be troubling her.

            Oh darlings, aren’t we, too, a bit weary of living for the apocalypse? Waiting, preparing for the very worst? How might we get off that hamster wheel? Give our belabored adrenals a rest?

            Sweet petals of femme daintiness, times are strange and getting stranger. Some things we have absolutely no control over, and yet they affect us and will direct us into a frenzy if we aren’t careful.

            Do, oh do, be careful with yourselves and your direction today, my lambs.

            Let the apocalypse recede with the ooh wah wahs, place it on that hold, and stay here, with me, with yourself, with the dear and the good and the present.

            Deep roots, feet on the ground, as the old wise world goes round.

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 is to post three times a week: Meditations for Queer Femmes on Monday, Pingy-Dingy Wednesday on Wednesday, and Femme Friday on Friday. Rather than play catch-up in a stressful fashion on those weeks when life prevents posting, I have decided to just move gaily forward: if I miss a Monday, the next post will be on Wednesday, and so on. Thank you, little bottle of antibiotics for inspiring me in this! (“…if it’s almost time for the next dose, skip the missed dose and continue your regular dosing schedule. Don’t take a double dose to make up for a missed one.”) And…as I go through graduate school and life life life, I will post as I am able, Mabel.

Published in: on December 27, 2021 at 5:20 PM  Comments (2)  
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Meditations for Queer Femmes – Still Here!

Sometimes, it feels like I want to scrawl one of those signs you see in zombie movies that humans stick in the windows: STILL HERE! Because, dearest femme sisters, I am still here, despite it all. So much mortality inside me and around me, always sorting through what can I do, what is my responsibility, how can I help. When I can still my own fretting and round and round thinking, I do hear the wise voices saying, clearly and with such love, that one must start at home, with oneself, build the love there, care first for the body, mind, and soul, so that the love can radiate out. Caring for our queer femme selves is a radical act. Along these lines, the best and most beautiful auto-reply messages I’ve ever seen came from Rebecca Jackson, the senior director of Organizational Equity Practice, part of a local organization, Trinity Connects (their mission statement is below):

Thanks for your email. In my ongoing attempt to live into rest as an act of resistance against White Supremacy Culture, I may not respond to your email right away. If my response time doesn’t meet your needs, please feel free to reach out again.

Thank you, be well!

Tears came to my eyes when I saw this; it is so deeply healing and inspiring to witness self care from people of color, and from folx running non-profits, especially, as the traditional culture of non-profits is often to work until you drop. And so meaningful to see this now, when, even before the pandemic, people were expected to respond to emails and texts pretty much 24/7 – it’s so much more oppressive these days, with so many working from home. I don’t suppose there’s anyone among us who hasn’t received an email written at the wee hours of the morning from a co-worker or colleague, or perhaps written one ourselves.

I am weary, and I know you must be, too, my sugar plum darlings. Stop right now and step away from the screen. Deep breath, relax your shoulders, look outside. Remember we are in it together. It’s hard and we’re scared and run down, but we are not alone, and we can’t do it all at once or by ourselves or even right this minute.

“Where do you find inspiration for your work?” Spirit Magazine asked Quinn Gormley, Executive Director of the Maine Transgender Network. “I’m especially inspired by the work of ACT UP,” she answered. “The politics of fighting for life as people we love die – is there anything more queer? In a moment of burnout a few years ago, I described my work as ‘bailing out the Titanic with a mop bucket.’ But if we bail, really, really hard, and work together, we might buy ourselves enough time for the string quartet to finish their song. And isn’t that the point? Making life livable enough in an impossibly hostile world that our people can lead lives filled with joy and music?”

Thank you, Quinn, for that inspiration, and Rebecca for your modeling of self-care. Today, make a moment for yourself, my loves. Rest, and build on your power. There is joy and music and such good company!

Trinity Connects: Our mission is to unlock opportunities and change the odds for youth of color in Boston. Our goal is to help them succeed by increasing available resources that lower systemic barriers to their achievement and wellbeing. This is vital and unique work for youth of color who are subject to the pervasive trauma of systemic racism. The heartbeat of Trinity Boston Connects is in the nourishing connection between youth of color and adults who champion their success. 

 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 is to post three times a week: Meditations for Queer Femmes on Monday, Pingy-Dingy Wednesday on Wednesday and Femme Friday on Friday. Rather than play catch-up in a stressful fashion on those weeks when life prevents posting, I have decided to just move gaily forward: if I miss a Monday, the next post will be on Wednesday, and so on. Thank you, little bottle of antibiotics for inspiring me in this! (“…if it’s almost time for the next dose, skip the missed dose and continue your regular dosing schedule. Don’t take a double dose to make up for a missed one.”) As I recover from treatment for breast cancer, however, I’m just going to post whenever I can manage.

 

 

Published in: on July 20, 2020 at 5:15 PM  Leave a Comment  
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Meditations for Queer Femmes – License to Putter

My mother tells the story of how, at the tender age of a mere year, I absolutely refused to continue taking naps. It was over, folks! I had shit I needed to take care of. Places to go! People to see! Apple juice to drink and goldfish to eat! I still hate taking naps. I mean, what a waste of time! I could be doing something!

Yesterday, case in point. Despite making all kinds of agreements with ourselves and with each other that we would rest and take it easy on Sundays, both my butch and I were quite busy. I mean, the schedule is all different these days anyway, and there were just a few little projects we both had going that needed tending to, it would just take a minute, oh, and then there was that one email to follow up on… We are both incorrigible, but, I’m happy to say, we did catch ourselves at some point, and then Tex went out and gardened, and I gave myself license to putter. Putter, as in, there’s no real goal or judgement hanging over you if you get something done or not. Putter, as in go ahead and drift from one nice little cozy project to the next, sitting down in-between with a cup of tea and a magazine. Putter, as in giving yourself time to just be, with yourself and in your space. Just leaning into the idea that you are exactly where you need to be, doing exactly what you should be doing. Yes, that kind of putter! Oof magouf, as a friend says. Now that was just the thing!

My dovelies, do you know how to relax? Do you ever take it down a notch, or even more than a notch? Can you give yourself the go-ahead to disengage the gears of your beautiful, brilliant, busy brains and let your heart and intuition lead?

Today, in the midst of it all, I wish for you a moment of pure putter. You will go back to your worldsaving and worldhealing the better for it. Everyone you love will thank you for it. I thank you. For your incredibly important work, the work you do every day, and the part where you turn all that love onto yourselves and just rest.

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 is to post three times a week: Meditations for Queer Femmes on Monday, Pingy-Dingy Wednesday on Wednesday and Femme Friday on Friday. Rather than play catch-up in a stressful fashion on those weeks when life prevents posting, I have decided to just move gaily forward: if I miss a Monday, the next post will be on Wednesday, and so on. Thank you, little bottle of antibiotics for inspiring me in this! (“…if it’s almost time for the next dose, skip the missed dose and continue your regular dosing schedule. Don’t take a double dose to make up for a missed one.”) As I undergo treatment for breast cancer, however, I’m just going to post whenever I can manage.

 

 

Published in: on May 4, 2020 at 4:21 PM  Comments (2)  
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Meditations for Queer Femmes – OTL

I once had a student from Korea who was in the States for high school. One day, when I got to his house and asked him how he was doing, he said very dramatically, “I am OTL!!”

“Excuse me?”

“O! T! L!” To his great amazement, I had absolutely no idea what he meant. He

had to draw it for me.

You draw it, too, for yourself right now: write OTL on a piece of paper so that all the letters are touching. There! See? It looks like someone completely at the end of their strength, utterly given over to fatigue and barely crawling along.

I’d totally forgotten about OTL until recently when it floated back up into my consciousness. Darlings, your Total Femme is totally OTL! When I asked the oncology nurse about certain symptoms I’m having, she said they’re probably less from chemo et al. and more because I’m without doubt more tired than I’ve ever been in my entire life due to everything my body has had to get through since I was diagnosed with breast cancer last spring.

“And it’s almost December now!” a dear friend reminded me yesterday. With months to go until my last infusion next spring.

So, my turtle doves, I am going to put some things down for a bit, go to ground. Pay attention to health and hearth.

I’ll go ahead and scribble some bits and bobs to post when the energy and inspiration intersect, but for now, I’m going to release myself from the weekly schedule.

Your precious individual femme lives, your joy-filled and life-giving femme community and the beautiful queer love that you spread every single day live in my heart.

May you be safe, may you be happy, may you be kind to yourselves and may you accept yourselves and your lives just as they are.

I am right there with you.

 

 

 

Published in: on November 25, 2019 at 4:05 PM  Comments (4)  
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Meditations for Queer Femmes – Intellect vs. Heart

A 14-year old student was just telling me today about how a gay friend of hers, also 14, asked his dad not to go to a certain chain restaurant because it gives money to homophobic hate groups. This, apparently, was a teaching moment for the straight dad, who launched into a long, well-thought-out treatise on how once you start looking into things – what companies spend money where and how – you’ll see that the whole system is corrupt and you’ll just drive yourself crazy and will waste all your time and energy trying to find an “honest” company. This was not what the kid wanted to hear. I wish the dad had just said, “Of course, honey, I don’t want to spend money at a company that actively supports groups that hate you,” but he didn’t.

As much as I was feeling pissed off at the dad in this story, I can’t say that I haven’t done the same thing to my own kids, to relatives, friends, neighbors, colleagues. I’ve been snippy and more than snippy when straight people make assumptions about my particular kind of queerness, especially when I experience them as being just a little too proud of how “down” they are. I have over-explained, excused, shamed, gotten really upset and more about ignorance in all its many forms, even when the person was genuinely trying to educate themselves or was attempting to form a connection despite all the barriers. Example: “Your wife is so great!” There are days when I would have gone to town: she’s not my wife she’s my spouse, here’s what kind of dykes we are, here’s what butch/femme means to me, here’s what you should do before you open your mouth and make assumptions, and on and on. No one comes out of an exchange like that feeling very good. Why is it so hard to just say, “Thanks, I think so, too!”

I know, I know, people do need to be educated and there is so much egregiousness out there, it can just be the very last straw when a neighbor or colleague really botches it. But it’s not always your job to educate everybody (note to recovering-academic self…) and you get to take a rest sometimes and not have to hunt down and correct every single slip up. If it’s important enough, if you see the person a lot, work with them, whatever, the more you build trust by being kind, the more effective the eventual education will be. Being kind, too, is not just about the other person, it’s also about you.

Back when my kids were little, parents in my lesbian mom’s group bandied funny stories around about children asking, “Why is there a baby in your tummy? or “Who’s my daddy?” and the long, guilt-ridden, convoluted answers about straight people and alternative insemination and “Mommy and Mama wanted to have a baby, but they just had eggs and not sperm…” Most often, the kids really only needed a couple of words, like, “That’s where babies grow,” and “You don’t have a daddy.”

Sweets and darlings, be kind to yourselves today. Don’t take on every fight, every teaching moment, every righteous biffing. Get to the heart of the matter. What is the person really saying, despite awkward wording and bad timing? Is it really worth the stress and strain on your already beleagured spirit to pursue it or is it ok, just this once, to zen into a heart to heart with another human being, say a couple of easy-going words, and move on and through? Protect your precious hearts today, femme sisters. Be kind, be wise, be loving – to yourselves first and foremost.

Every Monday, I offer a Meditation for Queer Femmes in the spirit of my maternal grandmother, Mimi, who was fabulous, kind, and wise and from whom I inherited her Meditations for Women.

At the Total Femme, my intention is to post three times a week: Meditations for Queer Femmes on Monday, Pingy-Dingy Wednesday on Wednesday and Femme Friday on Friday. Rather than play catch-up in a stressful fashion on those weeks when life prevents posting, I have decided to just move gaily forward: if I miss a Monday, the next post will be on Wednesday, and so on. Thank you, little bottle of antibiotics for inspiring me in this! (“…if it’s almost time for the next dose, skip the missed dose and continue your regular dosing schedule. Don’t take a double dose to make up for a missed one.”)

 

Published in: on April 15, 2019 at 5:08 PM  Leave a Comment  
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Meditations for Queer Femmes – Scale

As the daughter of an archeologist, I was taught from an early age about the importance of scale. When photographing an artifact, you have to put some form of measurement beside it so that you can tell how big it is. There was a fun moment in my life when my mom even used me as the form of measurement, as I was exactly one meter tall.

It’s been a really difficult year for my family. I find myself hardly able to pay attention to my own writing, my own joy, because I’m so busy trying to manage situations. Some are just life stuff having to do with aging parents, others feel much more heart breaking, a string of poor choices and wasted opportunities. However, as I write this, I see that both aging and making mistakes are the stuff of life. As my therapist used to say, “Sounds human to me.”

I wonder if we queer femmes don’t sometimes lose track of scale. Scale isn’t comparing in order to judge, the way we can compare ourselves to other femmes with their seemingly-sparkly and perfect lives. Scale is just about showing something exactly the size it is. Without scale, the very small can appear extremely large. When I remember this, when I hold up some kind of human measurement to the problems in my family, to my insecurities about my identity, art, work, relationship, I see that I am exactly where I am: a human in the midst of human pursuits. A human among other humans, who also can get really twisted up inside their heads and hearts.

I still don’t like it when I’m mistaken for a straight lady, especially when it’s by a butch who somehow doesn’t realize that it’s a femme smiling at her, darn it, but the older I get, the more my scale is changing. I’m not measuring myself as much as by what other people, even other queers, other femmes, say is how and what I should be. I’m giving myself and my own experience and opinions way more weight, and I’m even allowing myself to go from one definition of scale to another in this post! Dear queer femme sisters, walk with me: Weighing in and measuring up as 100% human queer femme, learning that pain is inevitable but suffering is a choice, making mistakes, trying every day to show compassion, to be open to joy, to make art, to love ourselves and spread love to others. Femme Love Heal World!

Every Monday, I offer a Meditation for Queer Femmes in the spirit of my maternal grandmother, Mimi, who was fabulous, kind, and wise and from whom I inherited her Meditations for Women.

At the Total Femme, my intention is to post three times a week: Meditations for Queer Femmes on Monday, Pingy-Dingy Wednesday on Wednesday and Femme Friday on Friday. Rather than play catch-up in a stressful fashion on those weeks when life prevents posting, I have decided to just move gaily forward: if I miss a Monday, the next post will be on Wednesday, and so on. Thank you, little bottle of antibiotics for inspiring me in this! (“…if it’s almost time for the next dose, skip the missed dose and continue your regular dosing schedule. Don’t take a double dose to make up for a missed one.”)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Published in: on March 25, 2019 at 5:21 PM  Leave a Comment  
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Meditations for Queer Femmes – Shrine to Pain

A few weeks ago, we dismantled our son’s room, which has stood empty for a year, his things gathering dust, the posters beginning to sag and rip away from the walls. For a variety of reasons, not all of them happy, he now lives full time with his other parent, but we kept his room intact because of hope, or at least that’s what I told myself. Actually, it was a shrine to pain.

It was also painful to pack things up, but we did it in good faith, with a great deal of love, and in the interests of making the room into a guest room, to be blessed first by my dear mother-in-law, someone who loves us and who loves our son. We had our son’s stuff delivered to him, and we poured fresh energy into his old room, which my mother-in-law happily inhabited for her entire visit here. My other son’s room has been made into my study, in a much less fraught process. We are empty nesters, after all, and we are the ones who live here – it’s ok for our house to embrace us and our needs!

My son knows how deeply I love him – I always tell him this, and I know that I raised him in love. Allowing his room to shift into a more accurate reflection of life as it is today is also an act of love, freeing all of us to move into more healthy relation with each other and with our circumstances. As much as it stirred up regrets and grief, moving the energy also helped me continue to move my own energy towards healing. His birth was a gift; he remains a gift, however complicated our relationship has become. Right where it matters, right in our hearts, nothing has changed.

Dear femme sisters, is there something in your possession that you feel obligated to keep but that always gives the shard of pain lodged in your heart a little yank? A sweater from an ex that’s really cozy and fills a niche in your wardrobe, but that does not have good energy? Cards or gifts from family members who have not had your back or who have actively dismissed or otherwise wounded you? These are all things that might be released, either into recycling or a donation bin, both good uses of stuff that is no longer healthy.

The Japanese always do a good home cleaning before the New Year so they can start things off in good trim. Darlings, do a sweep. Even if it’s just one small letting go, your queer heart will rejoice and beat all that more bodaciously from the release of burden.

Let it go and go lightly into the return of the light and the thrill of new beginnings.

Every Monday, I offer a Meditation for Queer Femmes in the spirit of my maternal grandmother, Mimi, who was fabulous, kind, and wise and from whom I inherited her Meditations for Women.

At the Total Femme, my intention is to post three times a week: Meditations for Queer Femmes on Monday, Pingy-Dingy Wednesday on Wednesday and Femme Friday on Friday. Rather than play catch-up in a stressful fashion on those weeks when life prevents posting, I have decided to just move gaily forward: if I miss a Monday, the next post will be on Wednesday, and so on. Thank you, little bottle of antibiotics for inspiring me in this! (“…if it’s almost time for the next dose, skip the missed dose and continue your regular dosing schedule. Don’t take a double dose to make up for a missed one.”)

 

Published in: on December 24, 2018 at 1:15 PM  Comments (2)  
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Meditations for Queer Femmes – Maintenance and Weather

We queer femmes can be very busy. We are often doing more than one thing at once – I’m looking at you, girlfriend, with your knitting, your correspondence, and whatever all else you keep in your pursetote to grab when you’re on the train or in a meeting or waiting to get the car serviced… I’m looking at you, beloved, as you grow extra arms and neural pathways to respond to your kids, your sweetheart, that quick finish-up of one or twelve urgent projects, the ten work emails that won’t take but just a moment… Ooh, we’re good at it! But when we are stymied in our desire to proceed full steam ahead, things can go from pretty to miserable in the bat of an eyelash.

There is a certain satisfaction about being efficient and available and good at our queer femme jobs, all one million of them. However. In one of those wonderful topsy-turvy’s of life, you can’t be satisfied with your satisfaction unless you give it a little room.

On Saturday, we put my mother-in-law on the plane, already a bit worried, as the travel time was a grueling eight hours. When we got a text from her saying she was in Chicago and facing a two hour delay while the plane was tended to, we flooded her phone with sympathy. “Oh, it’s all right,” this veteran traveller texted back, “I never bristle at maintenance or weather.”

Short and sweet, my darlings: today, find that space. Welcome the inevitable slowers-up. Drive the speed limit. Look up and out, into the sky. Allow for space. Make breath be everything. Find respite in needing to go slower because of snow or heat or just because it’s such a fucking beautiful day. The more space and time you give yourself to arrive and be and feel, the more you will be able to give yourself. The better you will be able to thrive and gift us all. Slow down just a few, my brilliant zippy kin! There is time for all your femme splendor. Now and here there is time.

Every Monday, I offer a Meditation for Queer Femmes in the spirit of my maternal grandmother, Mimi, who was fabulous, kind, and wise and from whom I inherited her Meditations for Women.

At the Total Femme, my intention is to post three times a week: Meditations for Queer Femmes on Monday, Pingy-Dingy Wednesday on Wednesday and Femme Friday on Friday. Rather than play catch-up in a stressful fashion on those weeks when life prevents posting, I have decided to just move gaily forward: if I miss a Monday, the next post will be on Wednesday, and so on. Thank you, little bottle of antibiotics for inspiring me in this! (“…if it’s almost time for the next dose, skip the missed dose and continue your regular dosing schedule. Don’t take a double dose to make up for a missed one.”)

 

Published in: on December 17, 2018 at 12:16 PM  Leave a Comment  
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