Bonewoman Speaks Wisdom Pages
My wrinkles, damn, I fought hard for those lines.
Every crevice a story, every wrinkle a prize. The birth of my daughter, the grief of losing my mama, the love of my beloved, all the belly laughter that ended up around my mouth cause I grinned from ear to ear.
I ain’t pretty and I’ll tell ya there is a hell of a lot of freedom in letting go of pretty. Crone Revolution! My mama's hands! Hands that shucked corn held babies, hands pricked by needles in the sewing factory making fancy clothes she could not afford to buy.
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Hands that wiped tears from her eyes when she knew her husband would not come home from his weekends of wild nights and sleeping with that "other kind of woman!" Hands that made Sunday dinner of pot roast, fresh biscuits, creamed corn, and butter beans. Hands that made sure her eight children had clean clothes and at least a high school education. Hands that were not tender, but you knew you were loved.
Hands that prayed for redemption, Hands that finally folded in on themselves placed on her chest to sleep a long long deep needed rest!
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One day you wake up, look in the mirror and see the crone, the hag, the elder, the wise one grinning back at you. She's laughing; you thought she would never catch up to you, but she’s here!
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I tell you this is the place to celebrate, sing, dance, do rituals, howl, rage, laugh, keen honor the old woman that is knocking at your door! Fling open that door now!
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We're living in times when your elder wisdom may be the very thing we need to carry on. The young folks are starving for our wisdom and they might not even know it.
Ancestors have been walking through my dreams,
knocking on my door, saying before you come to dance with us, call your wise women to lay down their down-to-the-bone truths.
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This wisdom is needed now, folks are thirsty for the tongues of the grandmothers. Come on in - sit a spell, I ain't going nowhere, I'm right here. Let me tell you a story and maybe you'll share a few with me and the rest of the world that longs for the stories yet to be toldBaba Yaga - I live on the edges, fringes, outside, I'm an outlaw and I like it that way. I am old as eternity & wise as the owl. I burp, I fart, and wipe my nose on my apron. I eat fools and then take a nap afterward.
I am not interested in small talk; I've been known to cut your head off and place the skull on my fence outside. I am ferocious, but I am kind to those that are willing to sit down, look into my eyes and tell the truth that lives in their bones!
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Death was the doorway to the call! Death of mother, brother, father, family, religion. Death threw me into the great unknown. Gypsy, wild and free, fifteen on the road to the great adventure.
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Spirits on the wind blowing from California calling my name.I traveled far from the deep south into the ancient redwoods and wild ocean of Big Sur. They welcomed me home. I followed the beat of the drum.
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These hips were made to dance and dance I did. I was the dancing queen. My hips were powerful, they seduced, they played, they gave birth to my daughter, and they enticed my beloved. They still do!
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I called the women to dance with me and we joined together our hips and the snake mother wound through us around us and we were remembering all the patriarch had wanted us to forget, that through our bodies, we gave birth to universes!
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I was remembering the promise I made before I was born to never forget HER. I was remembering the mysteries of my yoni, I was remembering, In the Beginning, was the Great Mother. Women from far and wide came to do rituals with me to remember. I heeded the call. I still heed the call. But now it is the old crone that holds my hand. I am learning how to dance with HER.
She is my greatest teacher - birth, death, rebirth......
Mama Africa called me when I turned 40. I traveled deep into her belly, my body laying upon HER and a billion years of lost stories came vibrating from the center of the earth into my bones and I remembered. I remembered that I too was a powerful medicine woman and that I had all my ancestors through all time and space standing around whispering the secrets of eternity in my ear. I became an initiated medicine woman to speak an ancient tongue that belongs to the original mothers. The call has always been to be the hollow bone, to stay out of my way and allow the wisdom of the ancients to come blowing through. I have answered the calls and I feel in my bones She is calling again. I am listening to the Spirits of the Wind to guide my way!
Holy Madness,
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She done lost her fucking mind, she’s leaving it all behind, no more lies no more disguise, baring her soul to the silver light of the moon. She put on her faded blue dress, lord her hair was a mess, she don’t care no more, she’s headed out the door. One step at a time not looking back, she’s ready to find those promised streets of gold, but it ain’t in heaven her future will unfold .
She was told if she suffered enough while living in lesh and bone then she would get her reward when she went on back home to those heavenly realms. No sir ree, she bound for that freedom train while dancing under the stars and in the rain She moving to the rhythm of her own drum knowing her life has just begun.
She found her way to the great redwood trees, they greeted her and was mighty pleased, to see a woman on her knees, praying to their green boughs to clouds to the ocean to the mystery.
And then she begin to hear a song on the wind calling her to come on in.
She stepped inside the circle of trees again falling to her knees in praise and in the glory that she remembered what so many had forgotten.
That, in the beginning, was the sound, ma ma ma ma ma ma ma ma ma ma ma, she began to chant, ma ma ma ma ma ma mamamamamamama, followed the sound deeper into the ground, sliding upon rocks stones and bones to find her way to her true home deep in the cave of the ancestral mothers, painting their stories on the cave walls knowing that one day all women would heed the call to return, to return, to return to the wisdom of the womb the wisdom of the tomb.
Life and Death, Life and Death and rebirth over and over again. Holy Madness is her friend.
Just once in a blue moon, I want to be a goddess that walks into this world with lionesses at her side, walks into the world bare-breasted, exposed to the penetrating light of la luna, walking as if there is nothing to be afraid of, walking as a woman whose female ancestors walked into the world had nothing to be afraid of. What if all the cells in your body knew this freedom? What if your DNA was not coded with stories of patriarchal violence ? What if we could return to our origins ? Pick up our ancient ancestor female bones? Dance, sing, howl over them, shake the dust from them, shake like the tree of life remembering our glory, shake our bodies as if we were waking HER up again, to say, I am free, I am free, I am a woman with mysteries lying between my eyes, my thighs, I no longer have to disguise who I am, I am a woman! I am! I AM!
The old woman, the old crone, she doesn't give a rat's ass, she just don't care no more.
Most people wanna turn away, they don't want to look in that mirror. She is the 3 D's: death, destruction, decay. She is Old Woman Winter, bundled up in her black raggedy sweaters, shit on her boots, she walks through the white snow leaving her tracks behind.
She knows you will follow her whether you want to or not. She got the wisdom of eternity in her bones, in the old days they called her wise woman, Grandmothers, crone - you know crone comes from the old word meaning crown, she's been through so many hard times, that wisdom emanates from her head like a halo.
She got a bad rap during the "burning times" when the old church fathers got feared her power, of her direct relationship to the Great Mystery, she did not need a priest to pray for her soul, she had a direct line to Eternity, her womb was creation.
She was burned, thrown out of the villages, she is discarded put away in "old folks homes now!"Wake up world, Her wisdom is needed now more than ever! I know it ain't easy to look her in the face, embrace those sagging tittys, those wrinkles all over your body, age spots popping up here and there. When that old crone makes her appearances, you want to push her way, but she ain't going anywhere, she wants to look into your eyes, tell you how much she loves you, how much she values all the hard times you have gone through, how much your sacrifices, your initiations, the deaths, the losses, the betrayals, the tears are the alchemy of your wisdom.
All the crossroads of your life have led you to this moment & time
! Stand up, look in the mirror, look into her eyes, say hallelujah, I'm still standing, I'm still alive & when death finds me, She's gonna find me living and I mean really living! standing, I'm still alive & when death finds me, She's gonna find me living and I mean really living!
I want to…
…live in a world where the wisdom of the wise woman is valued and respected.
I want to live in a world where old women are honored for their hard-won wisdom. I want to live in a world where grandmothers are taken care of and celebrated for the wrinkles on their brows.
I want to live in a world where belly laughter echoes down the halls of institutions, corporations, and wise women lead the way!
I want to live in a world where the crones gather in the dark of the moon, cackle, stir the cauldron, and whisper secrets in the young daughter's ears so they will remember where they came from so they will know where they are headed!
I want to live in a world where when the grandmothers speak, the universe stops to listen.
I want to live in a world where the young ones know the old ones are standing behind them. I want to live in a world where all of creation joins in the circle together in beauty, peace, and equality...
