The Grandmothers pull me down into my subconscious, where all my wild parts live. They beckon me to follow, with a single gesture of their wrinkled hands.
It is all you, it is all in you
breathe your sorrows small
love them small
live them small
We know it is a big ask
but you must make room for your sorrow
Darling, live well
If we should die tonight, let the world know our voices rang out
To sing all the words to all the songs that left their marks in our hearts
What would we use as currency in a society without money? What would we value? What would we work for, and how would we meet our needs? Even more curious, in a post-capitalistic society, how would we measure wealth, if money were no longer a driving factor?
In a world so divorced from our own original mythology, we so easily forget that we are ourselves the inhabitants of an unfolding human narrative. Transcending story, we leave behind not only the worst, but also the very best, of what it means to be alive. We risk losing the wisdom that arises ...