Crones Glass Slippers & Beautiful Old Women
NOTE: The post this week is a continuation of last weeks post encouraging women to remember the crones. If you didn’t read it, go back and do so, then come back to Part Two.
“First off,” the beautiful crone said, “is to stop that infernal whining. You must let go of the idea that if the stupid glass slipper fit your big foot, your life would have been perfect. The shoe didn’t fit your big foot! What is, is. Get over it.”
“Okay, Ms. Smarty Pants. Just tell me how in this world am I supposed to do that?”
“Stop thinking about what didn’t work. To dwell on anything we have no power to change is a useless exercise, and we end up getting more and more depressed, and we spend our days whining about what might have been. Not beneficial for crones.
“You see, the more you whine, the more stuck you are in the past—a past you can’t fix. The end result is you stay stuck right there at the moment the prince tried to put that silly glass shoe on your foot. That’s truly over and done with, but because you keep whining about losing out, you’re still caught at that moment in time. Which ends up helping you find even more to whine about. Which also makes you one of those ugly old crones.
“That was then—this is now. Whining makes you dry up into an old hag. Look in that mirror. Do you see one juicy thing about you?”
The whiney crone looked. She didn’t like what she saw. “You mean to tell me, if I stop whining, and stop worrying about not having glass slippers, these wrinkles might go away?”
“It won’t make the wrinkles go away, but they’ll soften. You’ll have more energy—a passion for life. Get involved—care about something. Get interested in something—take your mind off of yourself and put it on others. Find something funny to laugh about—every day, without fail. If you can’t find it, create it—go find a young lover or something.” She laughed.
“Yeah, right. Like that’s going to happen.”
“So, that’s all I need do? Then I won’t be one of those old crones who no one wants to be around?”
“Goodness no. There’s a lot more to life than that. Grow something. Crones are good at pruning, weeding.”
“You mean like a garden? I can’t do that, for my back is too stiff and my joints, they ache like a son-of-a-gun. Every time I kneel, my—”
“There you go, whining again. Growing something doesn’t mean it has to be plants, my silly sister. It can be, but other things need to grow, too. Nurture something—whether it be a garden or people. Find something—or someone—vulnerable—like a child that’s lonely, or a young mother who can learn from your wisdom. For, despite your whining, you have learned a few things over the years—and that is the wisdom of the ages—otherwise known as Women’s Intuition. Trust what you know deep down in your bones. Let that wisdom bubble to the top. Share it with those open to receive it—those who look for the wisdom of the ages. Learn to practice patience—then teach it to the impatient.”
“Is that all?” Drizella wondered how in the world she could remember all these lessons, let alone do them. “I should’ve been taking notes.”
The wise, juicy old crone smiled, for she knew the secret of the HOW. “By finding your voice, my dear. For silence equals consent. Crones like you and me? We speak our minds. We tell ’em how the cow ate the cabbage—that the emperor’s running around outside nekked. That’s how. Find your voice, use the wisdom of the ages, grow something, let go of the past, stop your dang whining and laugh—and learn the beauty of having a big foot.”
“I can do that,” Drizella said, and smiled. “Thank you my dear sister.”
***Note: This tale was inspired by Jean Shinoda Bolen’s book, Crones Don’t Whine, published by Conart Press