The Elder Berry Woman – Feminism and Religion

Moderator’s Note: FAR will be on hiatus for the month of January. We wish you all a very Happy New Year.

Before we head into our hiatus we will post a four part serialized story from our long-time contributor Sara Wright. It is her personal wisdom story. Today is part 2 of 4. Enjoy!

“I want to trust you Berry Woman, but I can’t let go of my fear.” I feel ashamed admitting the truth.

“You endured the legacy of abandonment, and this has given you great strength, but you have also been cut away from your ability to trust, and the safety of being Earthed. You are like a tree without a taproot, vulnerable to collapse in heavy winds and storms. If you can lean into me just for a moment you will feel a difference. Shut your eyes. Try it.”

I close my eyes. I breathe deeply, sudden images of hearts thrumming, soft skin next to mine… then I feel the warmth of my two little dogs. I am totally relaxed; I trust my dogs implicitly.

“That’s right, start with who you do trust – you are well aware that your dogs have been your most powerful teachers since childhood.”

I get it.

Start with what I have, not with what I don’t. I think about Nature whose benign presence is palpable in all but my most despairing moments. Isn’t this how the Berry Woman came to me? A big part of me must already trust her.

“Let’s leave the trust issue for now and move on to the second problem. You have no faith in your ability to persevere. You are strong but you must say no to the negative voices that undermine you, and to do that you must be able to listen to what they are telling you.”

Moderator’s Note: FAR will be on hiatus for the month of January. We wish you all a very Happy New Year.

Before we head into our hiatus we are trying something a little different from what we usually do. For the next four days we will post a four-part serialized story from our long-time contributor Sara Wright. It is her personal wisdom story. Enjoy!

Preface:

I began this story 10 years ago, put it away unfinished, completed it 5 years ago just before Covid struck, and lost it. When did it suddenly surface? On the Eve of All Hallows. Three days ago.

Because the story is autobiographical it deals with my personal issues. However, there are universal elements that people may identify with… this tale attempts to deal with some of the questions and the problems associated with aging, fear of death, and dying. I would greatly appreciate feedback.

The Elder Berry Woman

I turned 70 a month ago, crossing an invisible threshold. With this birthday I reluctantly entered the first year of my ‘elder’ years. “Red Birds” awakened me at dawn. The two cardinals spent the morning hours chirping and hopping around the grapevines outside my bedroom window. I felt deep gratitude for these feathered presences that seemed to understand that this birthday was charged with a heaviness I couldn’t diffuse. My intimate relationship with these birds has been predicated on grief. These cardinals were reaffirming that Nature responds to the longings of the hungry heart.

I have reached the conclusion that aging is a subject that no one wants to touch in case it’s catching. We sprout platitudes. We pretend that age won’t rob us of our abilities or our autonomy. We “forge on” with military precision until we discover that even raking leaves can pull muscles, creating new inroads for pain like I did just last week. Others “soldier on” hiking or scaling mountains when feet, ankles, knees, and hips are starting to complain. Forced snow – shoveling strains back muscles sometimes to the breaking point, as does heavy garden work. In our culture this bull –like ego driven behavior is lauded while bodies weep. “Keep busy” pancaked women chime with false Barbie faces cracking under the strain of deadly smiles. “You’re only as old as you think.”