The Blessing of the Crone: Beyond talk of Motherhood

As the heat was turned up here in the Pacific Northwest today, we turned our calendars to the month of May.  It is a month that I greet with mixed emotions.  I have for many years now.

Walking into the stores, turning on the television, browsing the status feeds on Facebook or unfolding the weekly paper, we are greeted with reminders that the day is quickly approaching when we will celebrate those who are able to conceive and give birth.  I am well aware that this day, this month, this holiday has different meaning for different people.  I know the history and the way the day has taken shape in recent years.

For many, Mother's Day is a time of celebration.  For some a time of grief.  For others a day that brings up difficult memories and shines light on unhealed wounds.  For some it is a reminder of how far along the journey towards healing they have already come.  For many it is a day of remembrance, reconciliation and pondering.  For me, it is blend of all of the above.

This evening I joined a group of women to discuss a book by Marion Woodman -- Dancing in the Flames: the Dark Goddess in the Transformation of Consciousness.  One thread of the conversation examined the striking differences between how our elder women were viewed in ancient societies, (and are still in some cultures today) and how they have been viewed by western society over the years.  Woodman uses the term "crone"  reaching deep into our collective consciousness to retrieve an ancient definition -- a wise woman, in the midst of reconnecting to the earth, to nature, to the Divine, to herself and to all of humanity.  I was blessed to find myself in the midst of a group of wise, elder women, several of whom have embraced the term crone with gusto as a term referring to themselves.

I am deeply grateful for this elder age group.  While many of my contemporaries, and those within a decade of me on either side, are wrapped up in the world of mothering, the crones and I are in a similar state of being.  We are both in the realm of self-examination.  We find ourselves contemplating and redefining old dreams.

In some ways, between my the miscarriages of my children over a decade ago, and my thirteen years as a nanny, I feel a bit like my years of "mothering" have drawn to a close, despite my age.  That season of life is not a present reality.  I have much more in common with the women with silver hair than I have in common with my own age group.

Although my heart sometimes still aches for the season of mothering, I am finding myself more and more content to simply be.  I am in an in-between time.  And I am thankful for the women who have come before me. I am thankful for the communion of the wonderful crones.

Beloved,

You know my heart of hearts, my internal wrestling, and the stretching that has come in my identity over the last decade.  I offer all that I am, and all that I desire, to the wisdom of Your competent hands.  I trust that You will continue shaping, stretching and molding me in every stage of life.  

Thank You for the presence of precious crones in my life.  Thank you for the comfort that they bring.  Thank You for their wisdom.  Thank You for the way they reflect Your light.  You shine through their hearts, their eyes and their silver hair.  When they speak, I hear Your voice.  For all of these gifts, the blessings of the crones, I am deeply grateful.

Morning Coffee

Beloved,

Today the sun shines brightly here in the Pacific Northwest, and the wind cuts cold, slicing through  the hand-made cap upon my head, finding just the right pathway through the neckline of my jacket in order to touch that shoulder that aches a bit when the seasons change.  So, I bundle up a little tighter, pour myself a cup of coffee and wrap up in a thick blanket to sit on the patio rocking chair to listen to the birds sing the last few praises before they travel south to avoid the winter storms.  I can see my breath.  Steam from my coffee fogs up my glasses.

Breathing in deeply, I feel the cold air rush into my lungs.  It remains there, pausing for a long moment, growing warmer as oxygen moves into my bloodstream.  Taking its place, the toxins, the used energy, are returned to my core.  The chill has completely dissipated.  I exhale slowly, wondering if you can feel what I feel, and see what I can see.

My Morning View - Photo by Trista Wynne

The branches of the trees in the green space are now exposed.  Waving proudly in their nakedness, they are not ashamed.  If only I could be so bold!

My lips have lost their moisture now - stolen by the frigid wind - that rascally thief!  The warm liquid soothes them, if only for a moment.  My coffee is losing its comforting properties to the same bandit that wicked away the softness of my skin.  I do not care.  I am here with you.  For this moment, that is enough.

A Pleasant Pumpkin Day

Pumpkin Carving with the Youth

It's been a very pleasant, pumpkin-filled and quite beautiful day today. I am offering thanksgiving for the continued gorgeous sunshine, for the gift of the harvest season, for the fun of fellowship in my spiritual communities, for reconnecting/date-time with my husband and the gift of musical endeavors book-ending the day.

My husband helps his
brother on the trampoline.

Last night, my brother-in-law stayed with us.  He is always a joy to have visit!  Since he views the world through a very different lens (developmental delays and visual impairment) we are reminded to slow down and to enjoy the simple things in life, like the feel of a giant stuffed tiger, the gift of balance on a trampoline, the vibrations of the bass through a small amp and the smell of a pumpkin spice candle.  A gentle rap-a-tap on a hand drum, the springiness of a slinky and a little music (played either at his hands or ours) will keep him happy for hours.  The joy of our Beloved is certainly evident in my precious brother-in-law.  For him, I am incredibly thankful.

Murray Hills Christian Church

Worship at my home church this morning was awesome. It was great to have the whole worship team back together again -- the first time we've *all* been together since the beginning of the summer. (One day I'll get a picture of the whole team to share here.) We were blessed by a wonderful harvest display near our baptistry. Between the surrounding beauty, the presence of a tiny new baby in our congregation and the worship team's heart-felt harmony this morning, I felt deeply connected to You, Beloved.  Thank You for Your presence in our midst!

My youth aren't afraid to
get their hands a little dirty.

My guitar was left at home for my kitty to curl up with and I was off to hang out with the wonderful Unitarian Universalist Senior High Youth I co-advise this year. We carved pumpkins and talked about Halloween traditions and family endeavors. The group joyfully welcomed a new friend into our midst and got our hands quite dirty!

Pumpkin smashing
at the Green Dragon
Killer Pumpkin Brewfest

After lunch, my husband and I headed to the east side of Portland for the Killer Pumpkin Festival.  We watched the smashing of giant pumpkins by the highest bidder, took in the sounds of the Oompa Band and sampled several different delightful pumpkin brews.  Some of our local brewing companies make great pumpkin beer!  I am thankful for the joy of this time with my husband.  Doing something completely unexpected, like swinging a sledgehammer at a pumpkin on a stump and sampling some new tastes is certainly a blessing.

Deep belly laughter filled our afternoon together, and then we returned to our church for worship team practice.  Later we had the sanctuary to ourselves, just us and our Beloved.  I played my guitar and my husband played the drum set.  We played with all of our might - a wonderful gift of freedom since we usually practice our music in our apartment and are always considerate of our neighbors.  Body, mind and spirit were united in glorious, freeing worship together.

Your Spirit, Beloved, was palpably present with us today.  I am deeply thankful.  I am truly blessed.

Release into Beloved's Arms: A Body Prayer

"Shibashi: Gazing at the Moon"
Photo by Matthew Wynne

Sometimes, dear ones, I get all tangled up in knots, and it is difficult to connect with God.  Wondering what the future holds, furrowing my brow at things from the past, feeling lost and tumultuous in the present -- these things all change my body's posture.  With muscles tense and heart shut tight, I dig my heels into the ground, preparing to wrestle with Spirit.  In moments like this, I cannot love the Lord with all my heart, soul, mind and strength nor can I love others as myself.  Love, like all emotion, is all bound in the knots within.

In times like these, I speak to my body.  I find it extremely helpful to connect mind, body and spirit together in preparation for the Presence of Beloved.  In one of these times I recorded this meditation poem, a body prayer, in my journal.  May it wash over us and transform our posture so that the Beloved's presence might be made known.