Blog

November 8th, 2024

Well, the seemingly inevitable happened. I just hope the grief and bewilderment that I’m seeing liberals express will translate into action and actual community care. The government wasn’t designed to care for its people, especially its most vulnerable; that’s what community is for. How about you, Mysterious Reader? How do you care for your community? How do you allow yourself to be cared for?…

In other news, I finally got on The Other Board! It’s been an intimidating platform for me. To be completely honest, I’m a little afraid of a client-driven site. No offense, Mysterious Reader, but one errant bad review could seriously impact my ability to provide for myself. I’m putting so much trust in my clients to treat me well, with respect, and I take very seriously the trust you all put in me: to represent myself truthfully, to be my best and most present self in our sessions, and to deeply honor your pleasure and your vulnerability. I mean, there’s no reason for a client to give me a bad review… I don’t mean that egotistically, just honestly. I’m so good at what I do and I do all of it out of love; I trust my clients can feel that. Caring for you, Mysterious Reader, is a big part of the community care work that I’m doing. I suppose all I can do is trust that you will care for me, in turn.

But I feel kind of clunky on a new site, especially one so frequented like TOB. I accidentally put my username as “farrahkatz” instead of using proper capitalization/spacing/etc…I’m paranoid that the smallest things will impede my work. But I get squirrely like this whenever work is slow, and man, work is slow! Don’t you miss me, Mysterious Reader? Or for those I’m yet to know…don’t you want to take that plunge and brave these warm waters? Don’t you want to feel my care?

sometimes a poem is just a girl

alone in her room

alone with her books

alone in her mind

sometimes a poem

is just a girl

-F.K.

October 14th, 2024

Oops I keep forgetting to blog…

My goal for myself was to make one new blog post per month and I’ve already missed one, just four months in! Maybe I can sneak in another before October ends…to keep up this pristiiiiine record I’m going for here.

September was a busy blur. Moved out of my beloved apartment of five years and went on a special family trip to finally see the Redwoods. Both of those things took immense energy of very different kinds. Moving is always such a huge stressor, and I’m such a maximalist that it was hard paring down my accumulated belongings to the absolutely necessary. So many stones and sticks and pine cones from other special trips and experiences of my life. I must admit, Mysterious Reader, most of these little creatures came with me to the new place. Boxes of rocks and lovingly packed bone shards and flora…I just feel more comfortable around these little babes than I do around most people. They speak more softly.

This feeling of safety among wild things has always been big for me. When I sat at the foot of the Redwoods, I felt so small and so held. Their grandeur made me think of elephants, reminding me of an article I read about scientists giving an elephant an MRI and discovering that their brains react to seeing (most) humans the same way our brains react to seeing puppies: they think we’re cute. And I felt cute, scrambling around those massive trunks, examining the wrinkled skin, nestling myself into these ancient trees’ embrace. I love feeling so small: makes the rest of my problems seem even smaller in the shadow of how immense it is to be anything at all.

my ancestors are trees: their minds, roots

I was a memory to them before I was even born

they dreamed me into being

they will dream me back into the folds of their bark

someday

-F.K.

August 24th, 2024

Waiting in a still place…

Some months just seem to drag, don’t they? When I was a kid, August was always too fast. The return to school seemed to rush into the end of summer like a wrecking ball. But in this work, August plods along like it has all the time in the world. Everyone is busy cramming the last of their vacations in before the responsibilities of autumn hit. Needless to say, work’s been slow and I’ve been trying not to stress.

But a friend has offered to vouch for me so I can get on TOB finally, and that should help pick things up! Being in this field has taught me how to ride the waves of abundance and stillness with grace and patience. I know you’re out there, Mysterious Reader. I must trust that you’ll find my touch when it’s your time, and not a moment before.

Until then, I’ll wait for you. My heart will simmer in a cool, silent cove. All the pleasure and relaxation of my inner cenote rests so still, waiting for you, Mysterious Reader, to finally return to me (or find me for the first time) to dip your tired, well-worked body in my pool. Don’t wait too long…

I’m not myself without you

I need you under my touch, under my weight

I need to rest my soul in the palm of your hand, for a moment

I need you to give me your warmth from below, that submerged place

where you’re most vulnerable

where I can keep you safe

-F.K.

July 21, 2024

Who even blogs these days anyway…

Well, here I am, exploring the interwebs (and my work…) in new ways. Braver ways. I feel a little awkward and clumsy here, typing out my thoughts for the entire web void to consume. But someone smart told me that a blog will help my clients get to know me, to “hear” my personality better. They told me you would be here to catch my words in your own little net, Mysterious Reader. Are you?

I’ve been working hard on my online presence lately. Yesterday, I went back through my old grad school-era Twitter account and deleted almost everything, remaking it into an account for Farrah to express herself. How surprised and happy I was to find her already there, her voice ever simmering somewhere within me. It felt nostalgic and a little melancholy to see all the books I was reading back then. How enmeshed I was in academia. There’s so much about it I don’t miss…but still there’s plenty to grieve.

If my death studies have taught me anything, it’s that grief shows us who we are through what (and who) we love. And just as Farrah has been waiting within me, coiled in all her power and beauty, the little nerdy schoolgirl who loved Joyce and Angela Carter and Levinas lives in me yet. What a surprise to rediscover her through Farrah. What a gift.

And what about you, Mysterious Reader? Who do you crave to rediscover within yourself? A part of you that’s been tucked away, or forgotten, or shunned? Would they like a little poem for their lonely pocket?

we all send our hearts out into the dark

we give them a jacket, a snack, a well-worn word of love and bravery

we teach them what we know of the wide, bellowing world

we hope they’ll return to us changed

we hope we’ll still recognize them

-F.K.