Nancy, one of my favorite podcasts, is doing a series on Queer Money Matters, and it’s gotten me thinking about how my queerness has affected my own financial well-being. Like my queerness itself, it’s all tangled up with other issues. Continue reading “How My Queerness Has Affected My Financial Well-Being”
Solstice. The Longest Night. The shortest day. We wake at 6:00 a.m. or thereabouts, with the windows outside still black. Day dawns rainy, chilly, but not freezing cold; it’s in the 50s on the solstice. Still, we know that January and February — the real bitch-winter months — have yet to come.
I’m hurrying to get through these pages because M has already left and the movers are coming to his house at 9:00 a.m. They were late, so very, very late, when they came to my house on the 17th. Five hours late. By the time they were done unloading the truck, it was 10:00 p.m. And I tipped them anyway.
Stop for a moment and be still. Know that the Goddess is with me always, the door as close at my own heart. Invite Her to walk with me today, to travel with me.
And with the invitation comes gratitude for M, my life’s partner, my heart’s desire. The first man in this lifetime I’ve trusted enough to intertwine with like this. Gentle soul, sensitive and real — and still a man, unaware of his privilege and its effect on me, as unaware as I must have seemed to Quick, as a white woman partnered with a Puerto Rican.
Echoes of Quick, echoes of April, all the myriad mistakes I made in the past and learned from — and learned from. All the bumps and stumbles in the dark we made in our marriages, because lesbians have always known what the state denies: that marriage begins when you rent the U-Haul and put two sets of china in the same cabinet, not when you rent a church and put two sets of relatives in the same function hall.
All the bittersweet lessons I learned from my lovers, and all the savory friendships and sisterhoods I’ve been blessed with since.
Anaphase and I, two bright minds burning in the darkness. Lucy’s gentle soul, pregnant and fulfilled, endless source of love and compassion. Two things I’d never expected to have in this lifetime: straight women as my good, good friends.
The Goddess in all her guises, made manifest around me.
What joy and passion to be alive, in this place, at this time. Oh brave new world, that has such wonders in it!
Moving day. 8:30 a.m. and I have time enough for tea, time enough for love.
Sipping the tea from my to-go mug (all the china is packed). Laptop laboring away with its asthmatic fan. Surrounded by boxes, and still my house has its elements of humanity. The plants. The Chinese fan, the bodhran, and the calendar still hanging on the wall. Most of other the artwork bubble-wrapped and stacked.
Stop. Breathe. Feet on the floor. Be present.
And the day begins with the eleventh step.
Friday, December 16, 2011
Twenty minutes. Half the house in boxes, half my body in distress, half my mind in disarray. The movers come tomorrow. Yesterday I wrote the checks and opened the door and walked in to the empty apartment and it was bare and freshly painted and beautiful.
Relax and let it go. Move forward. Relax and move forward. Relax and let go and move forward.
So grateful for so many things right now. And I still (the manager in me sure loves this expression) have to do the work. Knuckle down and buckle under and do the work. When Lucy and Desi come today, I can go ahead and give them their Christmas presents, half-wrapped or almost wrapped. Everything doesn’t have to be perfect. Relax into the imperfection, keep moving forward, rest on the page, and do the work.
Work as a spiritual practice. Can I have fun while doing the work?