A lesson in time — the eternal youth and the wise crone

Sometimes the goal is to drop the “I” from all your sentences. To identify less and less with your self or your sex or your station in life. And sometimes there is a need to do the polar opposite of that — to hold on to our form in a closed fist, to re-tell our personal myth over and over again, drop roots into the earth so our spirits don’t float away. I try to let go and hold at the same time. I am a woman with aspects of all different ages and genders within me. In my visions, I ring the church bell of my cathedral and I call them all home.

Night dream, October 22, 2022

The small boy within me dives into a cenote, but is unable to climb back out. He waits patiently for me to save him.

I’m scared, I say, I don’t know how to swim. But I jump in anyway.

This is the entrance to my underworld.

There is no way out, except for a spiraling tower that belongs to the wise crone within me. It’s locked. She has the passcode, but she can’t remember it in her old age.

The small boy and I know we will eventually become this older woman as time passes, bringing along the memory of the code.

All we can do is patiently wait.