boutonnière & compost
Continue reading “june crone”
Category: Cronehood
she talks to serpents
says they call her out by her name
the author’s window
Continue reading “she talks to serpents”
Easter
a version of this foto essay was first published
April 2019
Spring is life.
A mother rabbit birthed at least three bunnies in a niche of the house – enclosed on three sides with only a northern mossy exposure – mostly safe and hidden from owls, hawks and coyotes. They nibble on young dandelion and clover leaves. They are joy.
My one and only baby’s very first Easter and Spring. A surprise of daffodils under a white oak tree at our first house and home on Grace Street in Chicago. Mother, son, full of grace.
I don’t know where the stuffed white rabbit with pink, acrylic eyes and pink, satin ears came from — exactly. But I’ve had it forever, before memory, so I pretend that it was presented to the baby girl born in late October, just before Halloween. Or gifted to the baby girl on her first Easter. Or won for the toddler girl at her first carnival.
Before I was a mother to a boy, I — an only child — was a teenaged auntie to a beautiful boy named +Tony+ [Giovanni Anthony Martinez] born in Spring 1986. I learned from him that I might become a mother to a son one day even though I was sure I was meant only to be a mother to a daughter. And that, was a wonderful revelation.
Continue reading “Easter”
is this real life: zone of interest
happy saturday afternoon.
i am making a marinara, but i may pivot and make it a vegan bolognese, served over bucatini or vegan mushroom or eggplant ravioli.
i haven’t yet decided — while children are being genocided
by intentional starvation
in Gaza, Palestine.
there is famine in Sudan. And Congo. And Ethiopia, too.
how is this real life?
in 2024, while The World can watch from their screens. while knowing there is enough food in The World for all of them.
yet, here, i am deciding: between listening to a podcast about one of my favorite fellow outer-ruralers, Ted Kaczynski (the irony is not lost) — or, a pandora station mashup of caamp and uncle lucius – both bands, i first learned of from time with my son in wondrous and humbling wilderness landscapes and cozy lodging — or, continuing my Clarissa Pinkola Estes audio book the Power of the Crone Myths & Stories of the Wise Woman Archetype //
so many choices for dinner, intellectual stimulation or joy while i am safe and warm and mostly, whole.
how does this dichotomy exist?
that is rhetorical.
i feel the grief of helplessness most acutely when i am in the grocery store shopping for food and while i am preparing and cooking food — the most basic of human tasks //
this is a foto of golden-rosy light shining on the snow-covered meadow that i have the immense privilege to nurture, protect and observe, on land i occupy — at Sun’s peaceful, not violent, rise this morning — the precious snow all melted by afternoon
Crone tip :
when you glimpse the blaze of golden-rosy light, you must act instantly:
get to the window, get outside, with or without an artificial lens or shoes — because the glow is gone in less than minutes.
Human Earthling tip:
when you glimpse a genocide and famine you must act instantly:
you must speak out, loudly; you must resist in all possible ways; you must refuse to look away as you live life; you must do something, anything, to try and stop it; you must do anything, something to try and help other Earthlings; you must resist and “refuse to be an accomplice to genocide.”
Our World sits just outside of Gaza, of Palestine. We are All in the zone of interest, right now.
Continue reading “is this real life: zone of interest”postpartum
fetal cells
remain in a mother’s body for decades
they know this
particularly
because of mothers of sons
son cells discovered
co-mingling in their mother’s
blood
and marrow
long after their first breaths of atmosphere
and for far too many mothers,
long after their child’s last
we mothers, in-secret chimeras
29, 50,
years after birthing /
no wonder
he breathes
1,191.582 miles away from me
as the crow flies,
as the monarch flies
as the hummingbird flies
and still, i feel the cells of gold i alchemized
for 42 strange, wondrous weeks
in my crone bones
postpartum is forever
Continue reading “postpartum”preparation
she counted propane canisters
for her two Mr. Heaters
put batteries in her camp lanterns — circa 2004,
set out votive and prayer candles, matches and lighters,
worked past midnight
to empty, wash, fill or refill glass wine bottles with water for drinking, teeth-brushing, cooking
that is the advantage of the white wine screw cap bottles
p.s. VOGA pinot grigio is unrivaled for this use
she’s saved them over the months for this sole purpose, those Italians sure know what they’re doin’
she rotated supply: filled buckets with the previously stored precious water,
placed them in the bathtubs for toilet flushing
and in Igloo jugs
for hand and face washing
& dishwashing
(and, hoe baths too)
this beautiful welled water, pumped from 75 feet below the surface, 10 feet of clay and 65 of sand, her friend once researched county well drill permit records for her.
she made a pot of marinara, boiled 3 lbs of potatoes, planned for pancakes, printed out dutch oven bread recipes,
she set out the dog’s paw wax and his wardrobe of coats,
she refreshed her vintage wool blankets on low heat with honeysuckle-infused dryer sheets,
found her favorite j. crew wool men’s sweater, moss green — circa 1999, which reminded: she best learn some knitting – for repairs and darning, at the very least, the cuff seam is unraveling, but, my god, it’s so warm.
she filled all the bird feeders before sunset, although she’s spotted deer at them at twilight and midnight — using their tongues to excavate the seed,
she set the snow shovel and outdoor broom just outside, beside her back door
all this,
just in case
freezing lines and tree limbs knock the power out
and Lake Effect drifts become temporarily insurmountable
she’s always prepared, she always knows what to do
or can generally figure it out, figure a way out of it – and, without GPS
except:
what to do in
a genocide and in climate collapse.
Continue reading “preparation”definition | author | proof of life:
foremost Earthling, crone,
and mother to a golden boy;
nightly traveler into liminality;
mostly obeisant
to intuition & premonition;
poet, writer;
heart-sleeved,
bleeding heart pessimist;
devoted friend of crows (at last),
meadow-restorer/tender,
& long-lost sister to snakes, bats and coyotes,
deer & bluebird whisperer,
seed saver, food grower,
an admirer and propagator
of lilacs, hydrangeas,
sycamores, mulberries, pawpaws and oaks;
dna-tested kin to goldenrod, milkweed,
bison, cottonwoods, thistle and monarchs;
wader into ephemeral and glacial
lakes and deep snow;
Moon’s luminous, loyal daughter
& Sun’s prodigal, ever-questioning shadow
equally;
devout, ecstatic
desert, forest and river worshipper;
reverent of and humbly deferent to
bear, wolf, moose, elk & bighorn sheep and hummingbirds;
a mountain, canyon, valley,
prairie and beach walker;
i swam and swam and swam my way alive.
Feed the Wildlife! a radical imperative (& request)
please FEED THE WILDLIFE! if you have means to do so — to help our Earthling kin survive and thrive in the extreme temperatures and conditions of winter and summer — and during fall and spring migration
why is this radical?
because we have been instilled and warned to not do this!
but we now need to feed the wildlife we share habitat with — precisely because we’ve destroyed so much of their own habitat — and their preferred and once-abundant wild food and water sources
(but please only set out food for those wild kin who visit or inhabit your yards, balconies, patios or city parks – still, never feed our more-than-human kin in wilderness, or national, federal, state or county parks, forests, natural areas or preserves)
in their favorite spot to feast — the stone slab footprint of a former barn.
Crows are very clean and considerate
more-than-human kin— they prefer to wash their food with water and to wait for their entire family to assemble before eating.
the opposite of maternity
I am not nesting
for the birth of a baby
I am harboring
for the death of a friend
popular!
the path of the hylic
she had always prized
quantity over quality
with both people and money
never interrogating
the integrity or provenance of either
never asking the hard questions of herself
nor pursuing the big ones,
now,
she’s left only with errant glitter,
an impotent wand,
a cortège of pink fools,
her plated crown of paste jewels, atop her head, askew
you see, i knew that was all distraction, decoy, masked unconfidence
home, is within your Self
so, i chose to be [come] “Wicked”,
i wear my gold
in my bones,
in my blood.
Continue reading “popular!”Earthling in Planetary Hospice: late July 2023
I have been in existential hospice for a while now — not because I am personally terminally ill, but because I am experiencing and witnessing our planet die – the planet that we and all our fellow Earthlings from the salmon to the sycamores, from the gulls to the goldenrods, from the frogs to the funguses require for habitat — biologically, habitat is synonymous with life, with sustainable, continuing existence.
where I share climate and environmental metrics and information about climate chaos and collapse and write about my own experience of existential hospice and Planetary Hospice.
The Western World and the white-European capitalist and middle classes — that have driven industrialization; fossil fuel extraction; natural, animal and human resources exploitation, commodification and exhaustion; consumer greed and waste; and atmospheric, environmental and ecological devastation and destruction — will not ride this one out like some cyclical economic corrective shockwave or isolated ‘natural’ disaster — this is not like a stock market crash, an engineered mortgage crisis or a flash flood or rogue tornado that temporarily inconveniences the well-insured:
no, they, their children and grandchildren will suffer and die as well.
The greatest shortcoming of the human race is our inability to understand the exponential function.
Dr. Albert Bartlett, 1923-2013
Ph.D. Nuclear Physics, Harvard University/Professor Emeritus University of Colorado
I can understand how ignorance, whether willful or innocent, is preferable. But now is the time for the truthful acknowledgement and acceptance of the catalyzation of unstoppable and irreversible feedback loops coupled with an accelerating rate of change projected to their reasonable scientific conclusion.
It’s also time for individual personal ecological recognition and reconciliation.We are pure consumers, we are not producers. We are human animals reliant on habitat and other species for our lives — there is no other Earthling species naturally reliant on human beings. It is essential that each one of us understands the gravity of this — and undertakes palliative, hospice and grief work for ourselves, for other beings, for other Earthlings, right now.
Being present as witness and participant, perpetrator and victim, and caregiver and care-receiver during the death of the World as we have always known it, is an undeniably crushing experience and responsibility — but simultaneously, it is also an incredible, incredulous, and humbling honor.
What a time to be alive, truly.
I don’t think anyone of us will garner a reservation on some exclusive, off-planet ‘Elysium’ – and I, myself wouldn’t want one.
Immense grief is the close companion to the immense joy and wonder that I still feel and experience.
roses : maiden, mother, Cɾσɳҽ
the holy trinity of feminine archetypes
Ƈɾօղҽ chronicles: from the inner city to the outer rural
a fotografic series of bucolia
Ƈɾօղҽ chronicles: ramshacklecore
Cronehood: the imperative, work, province and privilege of becoming truth and living truthfully in the depths
Ageing is no accident. It is necessary to the human condition, intended by the soul. We become more characteristic of who we are simply by lasting into later years; the older we become, the more our true natures emerge. Thus the final years have a very important purpose:
the fulfilment and confirmation of one’s character.
- James Hillman
“Life is a farce if a person does not serve truth.”
- Hilma af Klint
“A crone is a woman who has found her voice. She knows that silence is consent. This is a quality that makes older women feared. It is not the innocent voice of a child who says, “the emperor has no clothes,” but the fierce truthfulness of the crone that is the voice of reality. Both the innocent child and the crone are seeing through the illusions, denials, or “spin” to the truth. But the crone knows about the deception and its consequences, and it angers her. Her fierceness springs from the heart, gives her courage, makes her a force to be reckoned with."
— Jean Shinoda Bolen
by a queen crone,
Lajuana Lampkins
"Women's most feared power over men is the power to say no. To refuse to take care of men. To refuse to service them sexually. To refuse to buy their products. To refuse to worship their God. To refuse to love them. Every therapist knows that sex can be forced, but no power in the world can force love from any woman who wishes to withhold it."
- Barbara Walker
“The Crone has been missing from our culture for so long that many women, particularly young girls, know nothing of her tutelage. Young girls in our society are not initiated by older women into womanhood with its accompanying dignity and power.
Without the Crone, the task of belonging to oneself, of being a whole person, is virtually impossible.”
- Marion Woodman
Continue reading “Cronehood: the imperative, work, province and privilege of becoming truth and living truthfully in the depths”
the limineen | earthling, poet & crone 