SHE who Laughs, Lasts
The past, the present and the future walked into a womyn’s gathering.
They were in tense.
The AULD ONES say:
One day, you realize that you are older than almost every other living being. Your familiars: cats, dogs and other close critters; the wyld messengers: birds, serpents and others who visit you; most plants; and even other humans day by day are increasingly your younger sisters, children, grandchildren.
That’s what’s so great about trees! They are the only species where so many individuals are older than you! In the dark inspiration that marks Winter Solstice, find a tree. Place your palms upon her, slow down, and seek counsel. Take in this elder’s survival story; let the patterns in your mind mirror the patterns she shows in bark and branch—yule feel tree wisdom swaying your own canopy. Honor your tree with a token, or—well, go ahead, you old tree hugger you, embrace her. Then, take a wide stance. Raise your arms. Look up—invoke the return of the Sun!
Good Night (simple words that are always true) to the year of Wild Card XV—X for the girrrl gene, V for the sacred vulva—celebrate your jolly old self.
Ride the Night Mare.
See with owl eyes.
Dream with sleeping bear.
Carolyn Myers © Mother Tongue Ink 2014
