What the Crone Knows

Part 1-Dawn

First awareness.  Changes with body, hair, skin.  Body as messenger of change.  Transition time.  Shedding skin, like snake- shifting power.  The dawn of girl to woman- Youth Crone.

The old ways of exercise, eating, meditating, yoga-ing no longer shape the vessel.  Bird wing flecks of grey interrupting hair- dark dye to “cover” makes Youth Crone skin look sallow- time to let that go.

Youth Crone leaves the solo nest.  Moving out of the city, owning a home with land - about to be married.  Creating a nest for two.

Youth Crone Struggles for place in this new place- now, there are all kinds of new places.  Weeping over transitions. 

Can’t stop time.  Can’t stop time.

Youth Crone is in full Transition now.

Limitless energy- a body that walks, dances, works all day, drinks, makes love.

Studying lunar phases, looking skyward, talking to the moon.

Womb of Crone.  Letting go of the jagged little pill.  The first painful cramps, flooding- anger.  Was this powder keg in there all the time?

Last thoughts to have a child.  Is that the way?

Youth Crone the refugee.  Tripping away, spitting in anger, from men in white robes who tell, and tell.  Tell her what?

Youth Crone the Innocent doesn’t know what is to come.

Part 2- Commencement

Crone Freedom.  Layers of angst and drama peeled away.  Still hearing echoes from the glimmer of Youth.  Freedom Crone knows well the shadow side of that golden winged time: disappointment.

Crone knows not to dwell on what could have been.  She wages battle against singing that mournful melody: what if, what if…what if…

Freedom Crone accepts that in some melodies there is no cadence.

The blood has stopped- or soon will- that red river of complexity.  Crone knows that flow doesn’t go quietly into the night, it screams and floods at each turn until it finally lets her go.

Or is Crone now a him?

Crone Time, there is little is left now.  She invokes laser concentration on what is enduring and transcendent.  No time to waste.

Can’t stop time.  Can’t stop time.

Crone Soul, looks squarely at the hereafter.  Reverence, ecstasy, fantasy, awe.

and will the Hills look as Blue as the Sailors say? *

Crone Confidence.  You are indeed good enough, my dear.  No one dares tell her different now.

Joy in raising children that contribute to the forward momentum of the universe.  Or- sadness in watching her children loose the light - following a path that she did not dream for them.  

The Crone who knows burying her child/her breath before she herself is buried.  

Crone’s enlightenment.  At peace with faith, ethics, values. A long honed perspective as she prepares for her next coronation into Holy Spirit.

Freedom Crone’s wedding day has come and gone.  Her hands still hold the magic of that day.  Or- maybe she had her wedding day, realizing after time that it was wrong all wrong…Or- Crone has not yet had her wedding day- and anticipates if she ever will.

Crone seeking Crone. Finding then cherishing a group of like. There’s safety in numbers in these Crone waters of transition.

*Emily Dickinson, 1858 letter to Master

Part 3- Sovereign

Full Crone.   Fine lines criss-crossing face, arms and hands.  Life lines to a joyous place of power and excitement deep within.  It's way fun for Crone now.

In the Hood of Full Crone, transport to new mind, body and soul spaces is a magic carpet ride.  Limiting beliefs?  Full Crone transcends them.

Possibilities of partnership open up- thanks in part to the generation behind her- Crone can more easily publicly accept a relationship of same gender.  

Full Crone is female and male.  Hormones dictate female one day, male the next.   Sometimes, her sex changes from minute to minute.  

Trans-Crone.  Floating between bubbles of female or male.  Meta-morphing with the formless form of shifting smoke.  Laughing all the way.  Crone’s cosmic egg cracks open over and over - she emerges again and again- it’s orgasmic.  No one “gets it” unless they’re in the tribe of Crone-

Except Bowie.  

Bowie musta felt it.  Honorary Crone he was.

Crone Wisdom.  The gut kick: Know now! Feel now! Laugh now! Live now! Crone also knows when to spit, hiss, kill, love, raise up, deliver.   She wields wisdom-power now.  

Full Crone knows the Triumph and Loneliness of survival.  

Sovereign Crone knows this Hero’s Journey is nothing more than life and life itself.  But at this moment in time, she can hear the final cadence approaching.

Can’t stop time.  Can’t stop time.

Crone knows She is closer to Atman than she ever could have been in that hot yoga class when she was 25.  

Crone knows she is the Godhead within.  Full Crone: draped in purple, kissing the right hand of God and like smoke- transcending all things mortal.