When a woman has owned her passionate nature, allowing love to flood her heart, her thoughts grow wild and fierce and beautiful. Her juices flow. Her heart expands. She has thrown off crutch and compromise. She has glimpsed the enchanted kingdom, the vast and magical realms of the Goddess within her. Here, all things are transformed. And there is a purpose to this: that the world might be mothered back to a great and glorious state. When a woman conceives her true self, a miracle occurs and life around her begins again. –Marianne Williamson, A Woman’s Worth
I write when I can and often because my heart says, “Type it out. Read it. Delete it. Keep Writing.” It’s kind of like a mental shampoo regimen. I know that my sisterhood experience has been both my trouble and my solution. When I was young. I felt I had plenty of friends until one day in 3rd grade all these friends showed up to school wearing the same T-shirt and I didn’t. It said Cool Kids Club. They may have spelled it differently. I actually wrote out Kool Kids Klub, but that would make it the KKK and surely the mother that put those shirts together wasn’t THAT out of touch. Was she?
My experience there left me raw and untrusting of young girls and their mothers. I looked around to get my bearings. My mom… well, my mom was in my head so much I didn’t know where she ended and I began. Her sister, one of my aunts, scared the pants off me. The other aunts were a comfort, but so far away. My little sister made me mental. So I decided women were best observed in the Grandma zone.
My Grandmas were the best. One of my grandmas loved to play with my hair and tell stories. The other one was all about going to the salon to have her nails as well as her hair done right. They both inspired me to laugh, dance, play games, cook, read, and make art. They gave me hope and the gumption to carry on in spite of mean and hurtful words and actions of other females. They were and still are my bearings in this wild and wooly world.
Although some Grandmas are factually twisted, most are gnarled with age and wisdom. Not all Grandmas rock and roll like my Grandma driving her convertible. Some just rock – think rocking chair. Some just roll – think dough. Some are friends of the mysterious Good Fairy – another story for another day. Some are simply carrying lemonade or pretty plates of really good food. All do seem to know the value of a well-timed smile. And most do their best to teach love and kindness.
I know women are complex creatures, but thanks to the Sisterhood of the Grandmas, I know it is possible to bear hardships and be an angel on earth at any age. Please take a sec to listen to this song by Sweet Honey in the Rock.