Mimi

Dancers in the sky, your music is imprinted on our hearts.

I grieved for her and I searched for her The girl with the untamed curls Who laughed like it was the only sound she knew And floated across the world on strings of poetry Like words alone could feed her soul And she was hungry for it all — For life and for purpose and stories I wanted to tell her that it wasn’t her fault That the people she loved didn’t die because it was 2:01 and she was late And that she didn’t need to skip meals to feel in control I thought I’d tell her it was okay to come home That it was her broken pieces that made her whole — Lost and found Shades of light fading under pressure Bleeding into cracks and corners nobody would ever find A careless mouth of painted smiles and open arms floating over time and space Parts of her so carelessly tossed, as if they were no longer necessary As if they’d died And what would she tell me today? The girl with the dreams too big too swallow What would she see and would she like it And at twilight, when the doubt gnaws and fear lights up Beneath my own disapproving eyes I remind myself that she was real And I am her That life hurt and it made me afraid And I laughed when I was sad and cried when I was happy I told everyone who they were And to myself I told a story And I cracked wit so I wouldn’t break In front of the crowd Until one day I decided I would go back And traveled there with everything on my back And my bags became lighter Until I had nothing but myself Until I realized there was no new exotic destination But a return That the road toward home was not lonely but Alone Circling the heart until it widens Or closing our eyes until we are Awake The journey toward freedom is acceptance and the path toward a collective redemption is in our singular healing For the child inside and Gd’s purest manifestation For every blade of grass sprung from time of creation For Adam and Eve and the highest belief That we are one And the truth that was whispered and told to the girl with the untamed curls Is the only message that matters The message that we are to be just who we are And it will always be enough.

Hissing, slithering….believable. 🐍🐍🐍 Who are you behind the mask you told everyone was real? Come on, God doesn’t want your performance. Hashem wants your real.

The waiting room, the becoming, the no rain no flowers…it’s all good because it’s all God. Our soul co-wrote the story and we yearned to experience it all. Sometimes I think about how I would’ve chosen this in every lifetime, how maybe I keep coming back to this exact life to choose it all over again. Who knows. Who cares. It’s my story, it’s the story.

MORE THAN MEETS THE EYE written by @mimiminsky Seeing Frumee on screen during our interview and seeing Frumee online, there was no gap. No double personality, no second version. Just truth. Maybe that’s what tznius really is. Just a woman rooted in something real. -Mimi Minsky featuring @frumeetaubenfeld photography by @hillahattenphotography directed by @saraschlisserkrohn makeup by @alizaartistry

If you’re an ocean be an ocean. ~~~ Empathy for every generation. For “bad parenting” and for parents that almost got it right. They Legiterally did their best. It wasn’t good enough? You do better. (It still wont be good enough). Maybe every generation inherits a wound and a doorway. Every generation reinvents something and we need to use it as data, because it’s all a hint and a compass for where we need to go, where the work is…Somewhere between survival and awakening is living, and that’s where the medicine is. Real Q is, what will we do with it?

@flatbushgirl is unconventional, but all of our lineage provides evidence that women who created change were unconventional. ~~~~~~ When the judgement creeps in Like an unwanted guest I make space for it I listen to the reckless comments tossed around Ones that prick and prod like careless little safety pins Judgement for people is what riles me up Energy that brews When people feel weak But strong enough to put others down And they arrive with certainty claiming ownership to God My God needs this Like God needs anything from us To love us — Like Gd would play favorites Like God decided that there was one creation better than the last And you don’t need to do anything to connect to God There’s no acceptance that must be earned There’s no love for God that’s hard to give Gratitude is God’s only currency Where banking is done inward And As long as we are here We are important And we’re all related, Imagine that A Oneness that defies any religious interpretation Every colored unique creation It’s Man that stuffed his own beliefs and ideas into a box, and said if you didn’t fit Then you couldn’t stay And the ego is the thing that turns anything beautiful ugly Ego builds up division, weapons wars, and paints resentful eyes Painful eyes Shameful eyes Eyes hungry for love and acceptance And the words that the people say The ones that don’t make any sense at all I imagine my rebuttal to those words Red hair behind me carrying a shield in hand I am a warrior of truth A philosopher of the ages A poet of the people! And I get there on my horse with all of my own certainties Only to realize that armor is all the same That the suit I wear is another divide Love Thy neighbor as we love ourselves is at the middle of a bridge Where it shakes and there’s fear And Our joined hands is the only thing that steadies it Like our survival depends on it God created man because he loved stories Not one, but all of them.

Last night, getting ready for sleep (still alludes me)… I turned to my husband and said, “So much of our life at this age is spent asking ourselves: How did we get here?! And then almost immediately after, How do we stay here?!” How do we stop aging, how do we make time stop, how do we get the baby’s feet to stay small and how do we hold onto the ache and (even) the painful experiences — (promise we’ll miss those, too) …how do we remember it all and can we make it all count without counting? How do we make sure we’re doing it right and how do we bring more soul into our humanity? I’m still asking the same questions, only I’m not waiting for the answers as much…. I’m just trying to be in all of it, because all of it is Godly. I like where we’re at. It’s our story. It’s my story. God gave me materialllll. The script is good, guys. I don’t know anything beyond the page I’m on. And I’m trying to be okay with that.

Don’t throw everything out. TG, I became a better speller. (To simpler times)!

We come from a long line of nuance. Sometimes I think we forget how colorful Our people are, how old they were when they became our forefathers, when they spoke to God and had that conversation published. How conflicted they were about their familial relationships. How they chose people based on who they were instead of who they came from. How little the details mattered and how much weight the intention carried. How our leaders were some of the greatest men and women with imposter syndrome that would certainly rival our own. How they rose to the challenge every time. How they loved and empathized and the compassion and passion and FIRE that burned aflame inside their hearts made it possible for us to even exist. How we are nothing and everything all at once. We’re all the in-between in some way. If only we can see that all the time. Faith is believing in the unseen, trust is the knowing, and kindness and connection is the fuel that keeps us running. Keeps us here and sane and okay. May we never forget this.

I wouldn’t know where to begin. The introduction broke me. I picked it up, put it down. On repeat. It’s down now. How silly of me to think I would read it in one sitting as I do every other book. It’s heavy, and that’s why we need to carry it, too. It’s OUR loss. I feel like Rachel’s tears are still alive. On the side of every road in Jerusalem, stopping at Nova, seeping into tunnels, and back up to Heaven itself. It’s said that God is closest to those in the most searing pain. I think Rachel met God on 10/7 and never stopped. This book helps everything else fall away. Nothing matters except what truly matters. And when we’re stripped of the tiny minutiae and the things we think that make us recognizable… we realize what is left is the soul God gave us and a heart that beats for it, reaching, always reaching, for the people we love.

Funnily enough, Miami is good for the neshama.