July 31, 2023

They tried to bury me.
They didn’t realize I was a seed.
Sinéad O’Connor

Thresholds that lead to death. My death, if we’re getting personal about it. And if I deny that it’s personal then I’ve totally lost the plot because if it’s not personal then there’s no point in talking or writing about it as it becomes rather meaningless mental gymnastics. On this Crone journey, I have no time for that. I’m navigating the looming and very real thresholds that lead to death. And that’s very personal.

No. This isn’t an announcement. I’m not planning on going anywhere anytime soon. Well, except for Ireland and my dear husband would reflect that it seems I’m always getting ready to go to Ireland. There’s actually truth in that. 

But the thresholds are very present.

At one time I wrote about a threshold. I now realize there are many on this journey. And when people die, either a friend, or relative, or someone who had a profound impact on my life and in the world…someone like Sinéad O’Connor…another threshold arrives demanding my reflection. Especially reflection on how, as a friend put it, I have more life in the rearview mirror than the windshield. Reflection on how I’m living my Crone life. 

They tried to bury us. As Crone, I’ve lived through decades of patriarchal suppression. And clearly that is not behind us. But with Sinéad’s death and above statement she made in the Nothing Compares video, a threshold landed that asks if I’m still a seed. Is my life still generative? Am I still making a meaningful contribution?

I believe that I am. No, I know I am. But it’s a question warrants constant consideration.

The soul song we sing as we navigate the thresholds of this Crone landscape is essential to sustaining the quality of our journey.

I just finished Bono’s book, Surrender, and found these lyrics. In this moment and for this time, they are the lyrics of my soul song. I am not afraid to die. I am not afraid to live. And I know something amazing is landing in my life. I am still a seed.

Blessings of Crone Wisdom,
Judith

July 1, 2023

It was twenty years ago when I returned from Ireland with otherworld encounters I could not fathom. I had no spiritual tradition and no spiritual context to help me navigate these experiences. A friend mentioned that there was a woman who could give me a card reading. With my limited spiritual understanding this landed as something of a parlor game, but I booked a session.

My session, the first of many, with Lelelewa, eagle shaman, would launch my spiritual journey. The following year as I was getting ready to return to Ireland, she told me that an ancestor had information, a transmission to share with me. I needed to prepare myself.

“Pay attention!” she said, her eagle eyes dancing. “The transmission could come through at any time. It could land while you are peeing behind a bush. Pay attention!!!”  

Well, there was no peeing behind bushes on that trip. But the transmissions landed almost every day as I walked the land, sat by the ocean, and spent time at sacred sites. It was like drinking out of a fire hose, potent and powerful. I was paying attention. And I’ve not stopped paying attention. 

A sacred sister just emailed a birthday greeting. “Who would have thought at arriving at the age of 72 we would be in the midst of the biggest transformation of our lives?” 

In the last couple of years my spiritual journeys in Ireland have evolved to include a circle of sisters. Ann is part of this. We have shared years of ever deepening encounters with otherworld energies, ancestors, and the Light that emanates from this sacred land. The transmissions and transformations continue to arrive, ever amplified. 

Indeed. We wouldn’t have thought and couldn’t have imagined this. Yet here we are. And I believe being 72 has something to do with it. I believe it’s about both paying attention and setting the intention. In our Crone years, our elder years, we have the gracious space for both. 

So. We set our intentions. We pay attention. And we welcome the transmissions that arrive. For this is a landscape of Crone power and wisdom…and deep joy.

Blessings of Crone Wisdom,
Judith

February 28, 2023

Friends shouldn’t go far,
shouldn’t be scattered in cities and countries,
they should stay close here.
We should meet on a random night
for no reason or planning,
have coffee, joke and go home knowing
we’ll meet tomorrow or the day after.

Not sure where this wee bit of wisdom came from. Dennis found it on FB and passed it along. And as I get ready to go to Ireland next week, it was a reminder of one of the things I so love about being there. 

Of course it doesn’t happen much in the larger cities these days. But in the more rural and remote areas in Ireland it’s still a thing. Neighbor Mick will wander up to the cottage for coffee and will again remind me to stop by their house for a cuppa any time. Dear friend Christy Barry in Doolin has frequently encouraged me to just stop by. “Ah sure, I’m home here most days.” No need to call or plan ahead. Which is proving a bit of a challenge as I try to find and secure times to see so many friends, colleagues, and trades people in Ireland when I’m there. I’m a planner. They tend not to be. 

So while I do have a few things on my calendar, it seems the rest of the time I will just go with the flow and settle into the rhythms of life in rural Ireland. I just need to climb out of my need to know. I just need and want to remember that this was once what it was like for all of us. Those of us who are now elder, now Crone, remember these more spontaneous and gentle rhythms of life and friendship where encounters were a precious piece of time out of time.

We remember the way it was.

Blessings of Crone Wisdom,
Judith

February 11, 2023

Sage.
Someone venerated
for the possession of wisdom,
judgment, and experience.

I’ve written much about mystics recently, a theme that will clearly continue. Like many of the women in my spiritual circles, I know that I was a mystic in at least one past life and that there were mystics in my biological heritage. After he died, my Dad made me aware of the latter and now I’ve met and am working with one. I sense there are more but one at a time works for me right now.

I absolutely appreciate this is a bit much for some. A threshold that’s a bit daunting. Inspired by more of Karen Armstrong’s writing from her latest book, I would offer another and perhaps more comfortable threshold. Sage. It’s a threshold many have crossed without realizing it. 

Definitions of sage generally include the three energies listed above, energies that are perhaps more comfortable and familiar. Many walk through life relying on their accumulating experiences to manifest good judgment and wisdom. Yet when we hold the energy of profound accumulated experience, we Crones become distinguished as sage sisters. Through our decades of life experience we have had the opportunity to hone our judgement and deepen our wisdom of the natural and cosmic worlds. We have had the opportunity to cross the sage threshold.  

Sage is a globally recognized veneration that has been written about through the centuries in cultures around the world. The following poem is from what is considered China’s oldest mystical text, The Original Tao, written in the 4th century BCE. The reference here is to the energy of Qi; the energy that pervades all life, harmoniously linking the plant, animal, human and divine worlds, and enabling them to fulfill their potential. 

The vital essence of all things:
It is this that brings them to life.
It generates the five grains below
And becomes the constellated stars above.
When flowing amid the heavens and the earth
We call it ghostly and numinous.
When stored within the chests of human beings,
We call them sages.

When we hold this alchemy of deep wisdom, tempered judgement, and accumulated experience within us, in our chests, we just might be called sage. 

Blessings of Crone Wisdom,
Judith

February 8, 2023

Yes. For those who follow and read both my blogs, you will notice that I’ve posted much the same message on both. There is always a resonance between the blogs and sometimes a message is called to be shared in both communities. This is one of those times. Perhaps all the more essential here because being a storyteller is one of our most important roles as Crone. We hold the stories of generations. For one generation to the next. This is our job, sisters. This is our magic.

Am currently reading and in love with another book. Sacred Nature: Restoring Our Ancient Bond with the Natural Worldby Karen Armstrong. There is such resonance flowing from these pages and clearly inspiration for a few blog posts.

I’ve written lately about myth and the importance of these larger-than-life stories in our lives. There are so many stories and myths that carry the energies of anger and hate spewing from the media and social media these days. It’s important to find, create, and share the good stories. As Karen writes…

We need good myths that help us to identify with our fellow human beings, and not just with those who belong to our ethnic, national or ideological tribe. We need good myths that help us to realise the importance of compassion, which challenges and transcends our solipsistic and tribal tribal egocentricity. And, crucially, we need good myths that help us to venerate the earth as sacred once again, because unless there is a spiritual revolution that challenges the destructiveness of our technological genius, we will not save our planet.

On her latter point, I believe the Earth will take care of itself. It might take a long time and be possible only when we humans are no longer around. Perhaps much battered and bruised, she will survive. We may not. 

It’s we who are in desperate need of the good myths. And those always begin with story. The seeds of myth are sown in stories that resonate through generations, stories that reflect our highest and best nature, stories that call us to be in right relationship with the sacred, the Earth, and each other. 

We are all of us storytellers. Hope lies in our stories, the stories we tell ourselves, the stories we tell family and friends, the stories we tell our communities. We are called to craft and share those good stories that they might become good myths. Mythic. It’s what we storytellers aspire to.

Blessings of Crone Wisdom,
Judith

February 4, 2023

Wandering through the archives of our spiritual community, a sister found this from 1994. I was called to create a graphic piece and share it. If, as Crone, we don’t land in an inner landscape of peace, we’ve, as they say in Ireland, lost the plot. 

Oh, and this writing came with a warning.

If you have all or even most of the above symptoms, please be advised
that your condition may be too far advanced to turn back.
If you are exposed to anyone exhibiting several of these symptoms,
remain exposed at your own risk.

May we all find these symptoms too far advanced to turn back!

Blessings of Crone Wisdom,
Judith

February 3, 2023

At my last annual physical, I was half an inch shorter. Even when I stretched. As I get older it seems I’m shrinking. So is my world in many ways. The number of hours I want to be awake. The activities I’m called to engage in or able to engage in. Generally, I’m not concerned. Life is good and I assume I will be dead by the time I shrink to the point I can no longer see over the steering wheel. 

However there is one area currently causing a bit of consternation. The shrinking world of people I want to spend time with. As I sit here in February with a stack of Christmas cards from people I haven’t seen in years, with every intention of writing to them since we didn’t send out cards this year, I’m facing the reality that I really don’t want to be in touch any more. These cards seem a last gasp of relationships that died long ago. And my procrastination in writing to these folks seems a clear message that I’m not interested in breathing any life into those dying embers. As I write this, it seems harsh. But it’s real. 

There was a time when my relationships were beyond abundant. It was the time of our thriving graphic design business and my thriving consulting practice, a time when I was on countless boards and committees and a member of Rotary. It was a time when my circles of relationships included hundreds of people beyond family and friends. Over the years these layers of relationships have peeled away like the layers of an onion. Those Christmas cards are from people who clearly didn’t get the memo, perhaps because I never sent one out. 

Hundreds of people. That was big. Way too big for my life today. And apparently big by any standards. Evolutionary psychologist Robin Dunbar suggests the number of stable relationships people are cognitively able to maintain at once is around 150.

On the other end of the spectrum, my hermit husband is now delighted to sustain a number of relationships he can count on both hands. And most days even that’s too many for the man. For me this is way to small. I’ve been feeling a bit hermity out here in the woods as, from these covid years, I find so many friends are still reluctant to engage and gather in person. Too small. I feel most alive and vibrant when I’m with folks in Ireland, and on zoom with my sister circles. 

So. Invoking Goldilocks. It’s about coming to the size that’s just right. Just right for my spiritual journey, just right for my desire for quality time over quantity time. Just right for my life. Perhaps it’s time to toss those Christmas cards. Just right. 

Blessings of Crone Wisdom,
Judith

December 19, 2022

As we navigate this season of darkness, we await the return of the Sun’s light and we celebrate the Light. We know in the seasons of the Earth wheel that winter will be followed by spring. 

Those are the seasons of the Earth. Yet in the seasons of our lives we know, as Elder and Crone, that there will be no spiring for us. For we are in the winter and final season of our lives.

As I reflect on this, I find it both sobering and inspiring. 

In the past few weeks I’ve been dealing with some unresolved grief. My sisters are being a huge source of comfort and wisdom. One sent me this piece by Jamie Anderson.

Grief is really just love.
It’s all the love you want to give, but cannot.
All that unspent love gathering up in the corners of your eyes,
the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest.
Grief is just love with no place to go.

As I prepare my Solstice rituals, I am sobered by knowing that there are more Solstices behind me than ahead of me. And I find there is grief in that, the grief we all experience in knowing we are in the final season of our lives. This is the journey of Crone. There is great joy and sometimes great sorrow. Yet the words of Jamie Anderson offer wisdom and inspiration for this sorrow.

In the years and decades of our lives, we have accumulated much love. And much Light. It lives in us and perhaps some or much of it is unspent. If we hold any consideration that it has no place to go, this is the season to reconsider that. This is the season to let it all go. This is the season to spread our love and shine our Light with enthusiasm and great abandon. 

This is the season to dance our Light in the world. May we step beyond our grief and embrace this inspiration, this invitation. May we dance this celebration of Crone Solstice!

Blessings of Crone Wisdom,
Judith

November 28, 2022

Priestess, wise woman, witch, mystic. Many are the names we claim. The specific archetypes may differ but there is a common energy and essence in all of them. And in all of us. I am uplifted that so many sisters are writing and talking about this, so many beautiful voices in a sacred choir, including these powerful words from Michi McCoy.

To My Priestess Sisters

To my priestess sisters: the keepers of mysteries, the medicine women, the story keepers and story tellers, the holy magicians, the wild warriors, the original ones, the ones who carry the ancients within the marrow of your bones, the ones forged in the fires, the ones who have bathed in their own blood, the heroines who wear thier scars as stars, the ones who give birth to their visions and dreams, the ones who weep and howl upon the holy altars, the avatars, the mothers, maidens and crones, the mystics, the oracles, the artists, the musicians, the virgins, the sensual and sexual, the women of our world.

I honor you. I stand for you and with you. I celebrate both your autonomy and our sisterhood of One. We are many. We are fierce. We are tender. We are the change agents and we are radically holding and clearing space for the bursting forth of the holy seeds of the collective conscience and consciousness. We are manifestors and flames of purification and transformation. We are living our lives in authenticity, vulnerability, transparency and unapologetically. We are committed to integrity, impeccability, accountability, responsibility and passionate love.

We are here on purpose, with purpose and give no energy to conformity, acceptance or approval. We are the daughters of the earth and the courageous of the cosmos.

Priestess, keep living your life passionately, raising the cosmic vibrations and lowering your standards for no one. You are brazenly blessed and a force of nature. Nurture yourself and one another.

You are a crystalline bridge between realms and uniting heaven and earth. You are a priestess and you are divinely anointed, appointed and unstoppable.

Sisters. We are a powerful inspired and inspiring divine force. Individually and together. And we are indeed unstoppable. 

Blessings of Crone Wisdom,
Judith

November 26, 2022

Well. Fuck. An essential part of the dissident dialect, it landed easily and comfortably for me in the sixties. That’s the 1960s, not my 60s which are both some time ago. One, two, three, four. We don’t want your fucking war. Killing for peace is like fucking for virginity. And then there was the red, white, and blue six foot plaster hand with finger extended that we carried around during the anti-war demonstrations. It was glorious.

Well, glorious for me but not so much my parents and others who named it profanity. But then my life has been pretty profane by conventional standards. No end in sight. Which is also glorious. I didn’t have Helen’s wisdom to guide me. Seems it wasn’t necessary. But it’s nice to know this sentiment lives in the sisterhood. 

It certainly lives in me at the age of 71. The potency of it has not faded. Well, I did put a bit of a damper on it during all those years in graphic design and consulting. Was a prudent decision. But now it’s back with no damper or apology, just perhaps a bit of discernment. Because it’s important to know how to manage your fucks.

When I’m in Ireland I do try to give it the Irish lilt. Fook. Perhaps more charming but no less heartfelt. Ireland does set my soul on fire. And there’s just so much magical shit.

Blessings of Crone Wisdom,
Judith