Over the weekend I inadvertently resumed my lifelong “activist” role, but with a significant shift as of last evening’s conversation with a neighbor half my age. She kindly let me know that I did not have to do so much myself (with all the technological issues that come up with websites, in this case, Blogger, one I’ve never learned how to use!) That all I needed to do now in my life was act as an advisor. That younger ones were ready to take the reins. We were speaking of our neighborhood. But I feel this shift radiating out . . .

Also, she was blown away when I hauled out for her to see, after mentioning the word “crone” and she got very excited, my box of copies of Crone Chronicles: A Journal of Conscious Aging, which I founded at the age of 46, exactly her age now! She let me know in no uncertain terms that there is a new generation of women who are eager to absorb the wisdom of older woman.

Oh wow. I just google searched <Crone Chronicles interview> and the entire first page is filled with Crone Chronicles this and that. Most of it not from my years with the original Crone Chronicles (1989-2001). The. original baby spawned multigenerations.

Here’s that (2012) interview, including the numinous dream of a Raven on my shoulders, back in 1989, cawing “WAKE UP! IT’S TIME!:

THE CRONE CHRONICLES EXPERIMENT

Meanwhile, speaking of activism, I ran into two old friends whom I rarely run into anymore at the local Saturday market. One of them I haven’t seen for over ten years! The other one? She and I had mutually decided to at least see each other for lunch, once, about a month ago.

Now here’s what’s weird. Our three-way conversation was strong, electric, magnetic, standing there inside Bloomington’s Winter Farmer’s Market (the oldest one in Indiana!). The first woman had stopped me at one of the booths, saying she had looked at my face from both sides, and realized it was me, Ann! (Yes, we have both aged, and it shows.)

She pulled me aside and said, “I have been thinking about something for months now,” looking at me meaningfully, “getting a small group of older women together to meet once a month.” Her tone was low, but urgent, as if she had finally found the one who would easily receive what she had to say. Just then, the second woman came up. We filled her in. All of us thought maybe we should name the group. The second woman said, how about something with the word “Crone”!

Wow! I hadn’t wanted to use that term, because, in polite society it has been taboo. (I have long specialized in puncturing taboos. Why? Because taboos contain hidden power that needs to be released.) But oh, NO! Now that word has apparently entered the vernacular in a big way!

The upshot: the three of us are now in cahoots, planning to gather a small group of crones together, with the three of us meeting first, on March 16 at noon at my house over lunch, to decide details.

Meanwhile, when out and about, I mentioned the idea to two more older women, in succession, both within 24 hours of our original three-way conversation. To both, I just asked, off the cuff, “Would you like to be part of a Crone group that meets monthly?” And both said YES, instantly, eagerly. Yes, I used the word “Crone” and they didn’t find it a bit offensive!

Oh geez! What if this town is shock full of (often isolated) old women who would love to get together in small intimate groups once monthly, to share their interior worlds and external situations in society, with one another, and no reservations? Oops!

So here we go. Apparently, I just can’t help being an activist. However, my role has shifted. I no longer have to ignite anything. All I have to do is witness, radiate, and make suggestions in my new advisor role.