It has been a while since I entered my second half century. When the moment arrived, there was no time to mark the occasion with an observance or reflection so I gave the great day a nod of acknowledgement and carried on, filing away for the future the thought that here was something very interesting to think about when there was some time to do so.
If this time of life has a goddess or archetype, She is surely Hecate, the ancient, wise and powerful deity who has worn so many titles and mantles since the beginning of time, Guardian of the Crossroads, Goddess of the Moon, Queen of the Night, the One Before the Gate, Light Bringer, Protectress of Travellers, Keeper of the Keys, Queen of the Witches, Lady of the Elder Tree. If there are totems or travelling companions for this time of life, they are surely the owl, the raven and the wolf.
I had always thought of this rite of passage as a definite transition from one stage of life to another and assumed that it would mean saying good-bye to much of the past, but I've come to realize that becoming a crone is as much a process of assimilation and transformation as it is of simple transition. Although long departed, the Maiden and the Mother are still very much with me, and they are in here somewhere, contributing their strength, their love and their enthusiasm to everything I do. That makes me happy, for we three are friends and we belong together.
At this stage in the journey, one has already become the person one was always meant to be, and all those anxieties about who we were going to be when we grew up are a thing of the past - we are already there. While I spent much of my life (particularly my young life) worrying about what the great wide world thought about me, that is no longer important, and I am finally and truly free of such attachments - in the words of the immortal Popeye, "I am what I am", and that is quite all right. I will never (in this life anyway) be considered beautiful, work as a curandera or healer, or learn to fly a supersonic aircraft (suppose I shall have to be content with my broomstick). I will never discover a new solar system or find a way to put all Einstein's theories together, and I will probably never write a book which changes things and influences others to look at this small blue planet with different eyes. All that stuff will have to wait for another lifetime, and I am already looking forward to it......
This physical form is quite different than it was at twenty years of age, and it tends to creak, but it is still strong, vibrant, and flexible - in some ways the crone has considerably more bounce and stamina than she had as a young woman.
The day still begins (very early) with meditation, Tai Chi and a really good cup of coffee. I enjoy full moons and starry nights more than ever. I have a better appreciation of Beethoven and Mahler's symphonic forms and Scarlatti's keyboard sonatas (will master them all one of these days), and retain my passion for classical music, good jazz, the blues, Mary Oliver, Pablo Neruda, Shakespeare, Yeats, Dylan Thomas and Rilke, along with the whole Arts and Crafts movement, most of the pre-Raphaelites and some of the Symbolist painters. I am drawn more than ever to spirals and circular forms, particularly the labyrinth, and I have much less patience these days with straight lines and linear extrapolations. The deep longing for silence, stillness and simplicity grows stronger every day.
There is a fine irony at work here. On one hand, I find myself wanting to simplify my existence, embrace that elusive inner stillness and turf out much of the "stuff" which is cluttering up my life, and at the same time, there is a persistent background voice which will not be silenced, one telling me over and over again that I have wasted much of the past fifty plus years, that my time on this planet is at least half over, that there are marvellous adventures ahead, and that I should be dancing ecstatically.
This is a good time for replenishing one's inner directives and for nurturing qualities of patience, curiosity, wonder and passion, a good time for putting things no longer needed back in the cupboard and for pruning away that which is no longer relevant or useful. This is also a wonderful time for practising inner stillness, for vision quests and travelling in the dreamtime, for stirring one's cauldron and tending the mystic cook fire on which it bubbles, for drawing upon the intuition, courage, and humour acquired on the journey thus far. This is the best time of all for conversing with ravens, drifting along with the owls, and singing cantrips with the wolves at nightfall.
I can't imagine myself ever being wise, but there is joy and an autumnal correctness to this journey, a clear sense of of the rightness of it all. The path I am following winds uphill through the north woods; the air is fresh and clear and holds the promise of frost. Underfoot, the trail is deep in fallen oak leaves, and I move along it in a cloud of sunlight, leaf dust and birdsong. From time to time, I pause and wander through the trees for an hour or two; sometimes I meet a friend along the way and we walk together for a while. In some ways I am already beginning to resemble the archetype of the old woman who lives in the woods, stirring her cauldron, singing over the bones, and conversing with the birds and beasts of the countryside.
Who knows where this path will take me or where it ends? It is the journey, and not the destination which matters, and it is good to be on this road. Having said all that, I wouldn't mind having twenty or so years given back to me - I would certainly know what to do with those gifted years if I had them.
Joy on your own journey....
Cate
