I woke up early this morning with a novel thought bouncing around my brain. Maybe, just maybe, I can make peace with everyone and everything, just as they are. So my 82-year-old mother still drives me apeshiite crazy after all these years? I will from this morning on, take a deep breath and whisper quietly to myself these two words made famous by Diane Keaton -- 'ladida ladida,' or maybe mumble something borrowed from Cinderella's fairy godmother -- 'bippity boppity boo,' something silly to gently bring myself back to the present, reminding myself that my mother is who she is, and I am who I am, and that I need to be gentle with myself, and give myself and maybe even my mother, a break.
So I am depressed and desperate waiting for my bashert ( Yiddish for 'the one' ) to show the fuck up already? Yupperoo. This is where I am and where I need to be, and all is as it is, and all is well in my little lesbian world. And me running around to lesbian meet-ups (lesbians who are introverted extroverts, lesbians who love canasta, lesbian ladies that lunch, lesbian ladies that munch) just increase my angst tenfold. For she will appear when she is supposed to and all my kvetching and praying to Asherah, Aphrodite and Sappho will not make her show up one second before it was written, long long ago before I incarnated here on earth this time around.
This is what I know to be true, that my soul chose this life to grow and heal and to laugh and learn and love and to make love even though it feels like a lifetime ago and that freaks the freak out of me. I am ok as I am, and so is everyone else. In the great words of John Lennon and Paul McCartney 'When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me, speaking words of wisdom, let it be.'