Sophie on her firs day with us--ten years ago.
Yep, both of us have aged since then.
Sometimes
I’m a little slow about making connections, but an online review this morning
caught my attention and gave me an “Aha!” moment. Stephanie Raffelock, a
relative newcomer to a small online writers’ group which nourishes me, had a
virtual launch of her new book last night. In reading a review this morning, I
realized that Stephanie is also the author of A Delightful Little Book on
Aging, which I heard a lot about last year. The premise is that older women
are flourishing in entertainment, business and politics. Many of us--me for
sure—feel that at heart we are still twenty. Okay, maybe thirty is my imaginary
age, but of course I’m fifty years beyond that, and the physical effects of aging
do show. But I am grateful to still have my mind and my spirit. Essentially, Stephanie
used stories and essays to encourage women to celebrate every day and welcome
aging. “Growing old,” she writes, “is a privilege.” She surely speaks for me in
that.
But
now to her new book, Creatrix Rising: Unlocking the Power of Midlife Women. Stephanie
claims that women throughout history women have had three phases in life:
maiden, mother, crone, the latter being an unflattering term which to me calls
forth visions of the three witches from MacBeth, standing over their cauldron.
But in the eighties, a new movement began which encouraged women to embrace the
term crone. Some women even go through croning ceremonies, where they are formally
welcomed into a group in a ritual that is sometimes solemn, sometimes
light-hearted. But croning emphasizes that as women age, they develop wisdom, compassion, healing laughter,
and even bawdiness. I don’t know about you, but I feel a lot wiser than
I did at thirty. I won’t comment on bawdy, though my son criticized a word I used
recently.
In her new book, Stephanie once again uses stories,
essays, and personal experience to trace the way women have found their voice
and their power in last fifty years. She proposes that a new archetype is emerging:
the Creatrix, women who may well fulfill the prophecy of the Dalai Lama
that women will save the world. I was reminded of the ancient Chinese saying
that women hold up half the sky. These days I think we may have the larger
half.
Both of Raffelock’s books are on my TBR list.
Meanwhile back in the mundane world, it was a day of household chores,
lightened by a visit from my Canadian daughter and her husband. (I’m waiting
for cool weather to cook him stuffed eggplant—just sounds too heavy right now
but he’s one of the few people I know who shares my love of eggplant.) This
morning I made egg salad, put away the laundry that had been sitting on my
bureau for two days, sorted recipes, ordered groceries, and tried endlessly to
degrease the meatloaf pan that had lamb in it. My final recommendation was that
it needs to go in the dishwasher. Tomorrow will be much the same, since I have
promised to pickle a new batch of cucumbers and onions—no one but me eats the
onions, and I want to holler at them that I deliberately use sweet onions, and once
they absorb the vinegar seasoning, they are every bit as good as the cucumber.
And then I am making dinner—one of those recipes I salvaged from my years of
cooking for kids, this one involving chicken strips, tomatoes, and lime juice.
Sue emailed this morning to ask if I am
receiving guests—she knows that I’m careful about covid exposure, but I assured
her I would look forward to a visit. In truth, I had been thinking that maybe
they had voted me off the island. Christian joined us, though Jordan was at a
PTA meeting, and we had a good visit. It sure seems we all know a lot of people
in a world of hurt in right now. Feeling blessed again.
Christian used his air fryer to make fish and
chips tonight—delicious. I bought some malt vinegar, and he made a comparison I
hadn’t thought of—Long John Silver’s. I had wondered if he’d use malt vinegar,
but he said that was fine—and then when he mentioned the chain restaurant, I thought,
“Of course!” We had one in the neighborhood when my kids were in high school—they
used to eat the crispies—but it’s long gone. Now we know we can do it at home—with
a lot less grease.
A good day. I’m ready to curl up with a book.
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