Green greetings to you all.
I am musing about being elder. Elderly. An elder. Old. Older. Olderly.
Three experiences weave in my musing. One: A rather large conference, where we were told that elders were being honored. The very eldest was mentioned, then someone not much elder than I spoke. Nice.
Two: A smaller conference, where the elders – those 70 and older – were given a special place to sit and other small kindnesses throughout our time together. Younger women walked with us to our cars or our rooms, unobtrusively, not interfering, but at hand in case we needed help over the rough terrain. Exquisite.
Three: A gathering of a large circle of women, where the youngers told the elders that they would like to serve them dinner, and did so, beautifully. Wild meat provided the basis for Feasting the Ancients, with pumpkin soufflé and cinnamon whipped cream to top it off. Incredible.
We like being respected for being old, older, elder. We have seen the sun go ‘round a whole lot. (That’s what makes us elder.) And we have come to understand what is truly valuable in life. We appreciate it when you take the time to listen to the elders, even if we sometimes ramble.
We like being cossetted. Our old, older, elder bones do appreciate a little extra comfort. And a little extra sweetness.
Meanwhile, back at the Wise Woman Center, the year is coming to a close. The very last workshops of the year will be this weekend, but there will be more work exchange weekends. I’ll be teaching in Woodstock, at Mirabai Books later this month, [link] as well as presenting at a Women’s Health Symposium in Stone Ridge just before Halloween.
See you there.
~ Weed Walk ~