A Writer Is A Writer - REGARDLESS

Oh, How Things Have Changed

As I’ve gotten older and have become Crone, my priorities have changed, a lot. Things that used to be of utmost importance no longer seem significant. On the other hand, things that I used to put off or dismiss as inconsequential now take precedence in my life. Back then my house had to be immaculate all the time. Everything had a place and if you used it you had better put it back where it belonged, clean and in its proper container. I’d spend hours cleaning and polishing and then turn around the next day and clean again. There never seemed to be enough time for ‘FUN’ things. Now that I’m Crone, if my house is presentable everything will keep until another day. I’d much rather take the kids to the beach. We’ll pack a picnic lunch, or better yet, stop and get a bucket of chicken. We can spend an hour or stay until the moon rises and build a bonfire if we want. When I was younger my friends wouldn’t have even thought about calling me on the spur of the moment and say “Meet me for a drink.” Going out for the evening was a major production. I had to do my hair, press an outfit, put on makeup. It would take hours to get ready, and by that time I’d get there, I’d be so stressed I’d have a headache and couldn’t enjoy myself. Now, if a friend calls and says “Can You come?” my answer is usually “Give me 20 minutes.” I jump in the shower and run a comb through my hair. Then I throw on a caftan, sandals and some earrings and I’m out the door. I used to worry about what I said and weighed everything I did. My first thought was always “What will people think?” My actions and reactions came from my head, not my heart. Everything I did was ego based out of my need for security and approval. These days I say what I want and feel the need to say regardless of consequences; unbarred, untethered, forget impressing or pleasing anyone else. Just do it. Yes! Things have definitely changed and I love it. I am Crone, I am proud, and I am FREE.

Martha 'Gipsiecrone' Bowman     

Her-story

Do you know me?

Do you recognize me?

Am I some pale wraith or shadow you pass without seeing?

A nonentity whose sole purpose on this Earth is to do your bidding?

Well look again, because, I am much more.

I am Lilith of Ancient blood ties.

Myth has it I was the first wife of Adam, created from the same bit of clay as he. Beaten and cast out, not by Jehovah, but by him because I chose to follow my own counsel and stand as an equal. Denied even my name I still stood strong and my heritage, my example and my teachings are remembered to this day. 

I am the midwife, the herbalist, some call me witch.

I was the teller of stories, the scribe of the tales and the histories of my village – My clan. When the Roman army swept across Europe I was among the first to be hunted down and slaughtered because I taught my people to carry on in the face of their tyranny. My strength, my courage, and my knowledge, kept them strong and with my dying breath I screamed “Better to die free, then to live on your knees”. My name is long forgotten but I am remembered still. I am Joan de Arc, warrior, conqueror, hearer of voices, and martyr.

As a young girl in 1429 I disguised myself as a man and rallied the French against the English oppressor. Leading them to victory at Orleans, I was lauded as hero. Later my own people sold me to the British where I was tortured and found guilty of heresy and witchcraft. I went to the flames in 1431 with my head held high and to this day am remembered for my courage and strength, I was only 19.

I am a follower of the ‘Old Ways’, a simple peasant.

I lived by the cycles of the moon and sent prayers on the smoke of the Bale Fires to The Goddess. When the holy Roman Catholic Church declared ‘The Inquisition” I am one of many thousands of women who died by the rope, the flame and the quartering or stood tall and proud, bound hand in hand with 100’s of my sisters and as we were forced backwards off the cliffs into the sea. My name is long forgotten but my heritage lives on. A beacon for my sisters. My only crime was being woman.

I am the mother, and the lover of the men you have slaughtered. I have wept over the graves of those you have torn from my arms and forced into battle or slave labor. Believing that ‘might makes right’ you have destroyed entire nations. Our way of life, our heritage, even our language you have striven to eradicate, I dry my tears and take up the fallen sword. Bloodied and beaten I will fight back until I too am cut down but I will not surrender. My name is Ela, daughter of the Earth

Do you still not know who I am?

Can you still not recognize me? 

Do you still think I am here only to serve your purpose?

Open your eyes and see while you still can.

I am Woman

I am Strong

And

I am Free.

                                                                                                                  Martha ‘Gipsiecrone’ Bowman