Lately I keep using the word “regroup.”
“Let’s sit down and regroup,” I’ll say. Or, “After that, we can regroup and go from there.” “I just need a moment to regroup and I’ll be right with you.” Why am I so in love with this word lately?
When I was much younger, I was always talking about sitting my butt down and “getting my life in order.” I really thought I could do that – it was just a question of making a few lists and having the will power to follow through and everything would be smooth going, baby – but I am just that titch wiser now. I think my urge to regroup is related to my youthful desire for order, though. Coming at it a little differently. Now it’s less about imposing order and more about pausing, listening, learning, taking stock. Gathering the wherewithal, knowledge, and strength to carry on.
Middle age and beyond has brought a grand panoply of life. Sighs of exhaustion, frustration, ecstasy, wonder.
Met the love of your life but she lives two states away and you can’t move because of a custody agreement?
Regroup.
Family catastrophes involving kids, parents, spouse?
Regroup.
Cancer diagnosis and the ongoing aftermath?
Regroup.
Worldwide pandemic?
Regroup.
Regroup in order to calibrate the new information with the old steady me, that heartbeat of self that never dissipates, no matter how smallsmallsmall her voice becomes.
Owen, our 23-year old, is about to roll off to Japan, following his heart to a place he’s dreamed about living for years. He’ll be on his own for the first time in his life. We were talking last night about how exciting it is that he’ll be able to learn about himself in solitude, from small things like how he likes his kitchen arranged, to deep philosophical ideas and how he handles life with no interference from family or roommates. My wish for him is that he grows in his understanding of who he is and that that knowledge surrounds and carries him, through all the rigors and joys.
Regrouping for me is about touching in again to my knowledge of self.
All these things that have happened to, in, around, and about me: I know I’m still steady.
I know I’m still in there.
I just need a moment to regroup.
You, my queer femme posse, you busy, lively, lovely doers and goers and fixers and creators and lovers and believers, go there with me now:
pause and breathe
pause and close your eyes
pause and hear your unique and precious heartbeat
pause and regroup, my sweethearts,
because no matter what happens
your core of majestic femme, your wisdom
stays molten and alive.
Gather yourself.
Listen to that heartbeat.
Regroup.
And carry on.
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 life life life, I will post as I am able, Mabel.
The Total Femme 