I claimed that title a couple of weeks ago during a crone's rite of passage at the beginning of Gaea Goddess Gathering.
What does it mean, to be a Crone?
One of the facilitators of the ritual defined crone as a
Creative
Researcher
Of
New
Experiences.
That description flies in the face of what most people think about getting old. Old people don't learn new stuff or try new things. Old fuddy duddy.
We are sexy. We are strong. We are experienced and knowledgeable and wise. We smile. We laugh. Out loud. Whenever. We teach. We learn
We wear what we want, no matter who says it is "inappropriate for our age." At 55 (seems young to me) I'll wear short skirts and a skinny tank tops... or bright green pants with big, black polka dots, which I saw on one skinny old crone in the grocery store parking lot today. Bravo.
Being a Crone is what you want it to be.
Being a Crone means stepping into your power.
At the rite of passage, I said that being a crone meant setting aside my fear and stepping through it. That is Power.
And "Crones Don't Whine." A delightful little book by Jean Shinoda Bolen. According to Bolen, Crones are juicy, trust what we know in our bones, are fierce about what matters, speak truth with compassion... and more.
Maybe Crones kvetch... but we don't whine. If we don't like where we are, we don't whine, we change it. If we can't change it, we don't whine, we accept it and do with it what we can, like change our attitude.
I toyed with the idea of claiming the title of Crone for several years. I was past 50. I had hit menopause. I am a grandmother. I have had gray hairs for the past 15 years. And I have a pair of reading glasses in every room.
But I had to get past the idea that a Crone is old. Old ladies are not necessarily crones. If you are just an old lady, you are just old. That is not to say that there are not plenty of sweet, frail-looking, incredibly fierce little old lady crones. One must know the difference.
During the rite of passage, each of the half dozen or so of the new crones had a friend, daughter, etc. speak about her. I was honored to have two friends speak for me. A friend of somewhere between 15 and 20 years and a newer friend whom I have known for little more than a year, or two -- maybe my whole life. Fierce women they are, who deserve the title of crone themselves. They braved a damp and chilly night in the woods to be with me (no whining). True friends. They set a standard for me that I hope I will live up to when they want someone to stand up for them.
I find it difficult to believe half of the beautiful things they said about me. But being a crone also means recognizing your own value, without letting it increase your hat size. So, I will accept what they said as true. Without vanity. They also gave me exquisite gifts, for which I thank them greatly. I am trying to accept that I am worthy of these gifts. The gifts of their presence and their friendship seemed enough, to me.
I am Crone. I am not old. I am vital and juicy.
I am wise. I am silly. I am looking for new experience... beyond the boundaries of what I would have dared before. I am gentle and caring, but I will knock you upside the head if you need it --- with compassion, of course.
A Crone understands the Power and Necessity of darkness, of snakes and spiders, caves and compost, of fading and dying. We're not afraid of blood, or tears. We Live until we die.
I am Crone. And proud to be.
I am Crone...
And I Dance...
Spinning into the cosmos...
