Grandmother Wisdom: a Chat with Annell Livingston and Barbara Mackenzie

Sherry: A confluence of recent events, including the Womens’ March in January, and the suffering of the children at the southern border, had Annell Livingston, Barbara Mackenzie and myself talking about the need for Grandmother Wisdom, or Wise Woman Wisdom, in these times.

Long ago, a matriarchal culture lived peacefully on the earth. Patriarchy (and its warring “us and them” perspective, not to mention the emphasis on profit over planet), has been terribly damaging to Mother Earth  and all her creatures. We are the only species who destroys our own habitat, along with that of other creatures. It is mind-boggling. I wonder when survival will finally come before “economic interests”, and am reminded of this quote, from the documentary Awake: A Dream of Standing Rock :

“In prophecy, it is said in times of terrible trouble, first, the young will rise. Behind them will be the mothers and grandmothers. And after that, the warriors will rise.”

We are seeing this now. The young are rising, women are rising, and indigenous people are rising and speaking truth to power. Grandmothers, with our lived history and life wisdom, are rising.

Annell Livingston, of Somethings  I Think About, lives in Taos, New Mexico,  under the gaze of Taos Mountain. Annell, you live among a very ancient culture, the native people of the Pueblo.  Do you feel its history in the land around you? Will you share your thoughts about Grandmother Wisdom with us?

Annell:  Much has been written about The Wisdom of Women, or Grandmother Wisdom.  Women are taking their place in society, equal to men.  And women have something to say.  In the past,  women have  been voiceless or mute, unheard.   Now women are speaking,  and are speaking for all creatures living on the earth, and for the earth itself.  We speak for the “other,” those who are different, those of color, children, and small things.  We are in a time of reclaiming of ourselves. 

We are awaking in a time of our own making.  A place of darkness.  This is a place of “outcasts,” and we know ourselves to have been the “outcast”.  No longer afraid of aging, or of dying.   No longer afraid of who we are.   No longer afraid of our own bodies.  No longer afraid of our power.  We wrap ourselves in our power,  and wear it proudly.   For all to see.   We laugh out loud.  As Virginia Woolf said, “a room of her own.”  A room where we can be free to be, no longer told we are not good enough.  No longer afraid of what “he” might say, instead we are finding our way.

Sherry: This reminds me of the article “Kali Takes America”, when Vera de Chalambert wrote, right after the 2016 election: “Make no mistake, it is really Holy Darkness that has won this election….the Dark Mother….oracle of holy change….brought down our house in a shocking blow; all illusions stripped in a single night. We are not who we thought we were. Now we must get ready to stand in her fires of transmutation.”

Annell: We are still learning who we are, and who she was… and who she was, back in time to the beginning.  This is the “Wisdom of the Grandmothers” painted on the walls of the cave.   As we run our hands over the stone walls, we find what is now, and who we have become.   The follower becomes the followed, moon in the sky, what we have been seeking, is ourselves.  We see what has been painted over, erased. 

We are finding our way with the help of the Grandmothers; we are one with all that is, the endless possibility of form, taking new shape at the speed of light.

The new space is filled with the presence of mothers, and everyone is a daughter.  Shaped by the movements of white-haired women and ringing with the laughter of old lady friends.  A place filled with the love of women for women and the play of little girls.

Starlight in darkness, lit up with her thoughts.  She is the maker, the builder, the doer, the finder.  We claim this space for our own.    In the past we have been invisible, called a witch, tortured, burned at the stake, a time governed by fire.  We have been prohibited from practicing medicine.  She knows her time has come; it is now that she listens and is heard, no longer alone.  The Age of her Resonance.  

My only qualification to speak is that I am a woman, old enough to be a Grandmother. I live in Taos, New Mexico, in one of the most beautiful places in the world.  I live on the mesa west of the village of Taos, above Taos Valley.  I can see Taos Pueblo from my back window and hear the drums beat as they drift over the sage brush.  Taos Pueblo is at the foot of sacred Taos Mountain.  The Mother Mountain.
 

Taos Pueblo is one of the oldest continuously occupied communities, over a thousand years old.  And the people of Taos Pueblo honor their traditions.   It is known for being one of the most private, secretive, and conservative pueblos. (There are eight Pueblos in Northern New Mexico.)  The people almost never speak of their religious customs to outsiders, and because their language has never been written down, much of the culture remains unknown to the rest of the world.  Taos Pueblo has been designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Taos Pueblo is a reservation of 95,000 acres, and about 4,500 people live in the area.  The people of Taos Pueblo speak a variation of the Tanoan language.

source Wikipedia Commons

Sherry:  I am fascinated by your desert landscape, with its ancient history. I would love to share the poem you wrote that began our conversation about Grandmother Wisdom, if I may:

A Woman Gives the Full Moon Names

Native tribes have names

For the full moon

To mark the passing of time

A woman could give the full moon

Names to mark the passing of her life

Beginning with the time of birth moon

Little girl moon

School begins moon

Time of the young woman moon

Time of marriage moon

Time of children moon

Time of the full woman moon

Time of old age moon

Time of death moon

The circle 

Of the moon complete

Sherry: We are in the time of Wise Woman Moon, time for grandmothers to arise and share their earth wisdom, ignored and dismissed by the patriarchy for far too long. Thank you, Annell.

I came across this quote by Sharon Blackie, author of If Women Rose Rooted. It speaks to the rising of the Divine Feminine, and our herstory:

"If women remember that once upon a time we sang with the tongues of seals and flew with the wings of swans, that we forged our own path through the dark forest, while creating a community of its many inhabitants, then we will rise up rooted, like trees.......well, then, women might indeed save, not just ourselves, but the world."  Truth.

Barbara Mackenzie, of signed….bkm, is one of our very first Poets United members from our beginnings in 2010. She  lives in northern California and is 1/8 Sioux. Barbara, I know your culture reveres your elders. I resonate deeply with your beliefs and traditions, and admire how your people live with reverence for Mother Earth.

Barbara: I did watch a lot of Standing Rock and was deeply moved by the experience.  I know, however, man has and is always capable of cruelty to other humans -  it does not matter the color of skin.  Each race should be proud of their own. 

My mother was Native American when it was not cool to be so - she was only 1/4 but carried the skin and hair;  she paid a deep price for it. We are all gifts, no matter the color, and embracing our heritage is important.  Not all Natives love the Earth or its promises - I have seen this.  They too are human - we are all children of this great mother, and must do what we can to protect her.

You are right; it will be up to the young now to save her - our generation and economy has left her a mess,  though we did bring attention to the issue - like Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring.  So much more to do.  A population that is a burden for her, a free and entitled generation that do not even know where their food comes from. 
  

The earth will win out. She always has.  We may be gone. She may have enough of us.   Maybe the few words we write while here will make a difference- maybe we can be a voice for her.

Sherry: This is what I fervently hope, Barbara. So many of my poems are pleas for awareness and action. We do what we can. 

Would you talk to us about Grandmother Wisdom, about prophecy….anything you wish to share with us from the wealth of your cultural traditions. We are all ears!

Barbara: My Great Grandmother Elizabeth was full Dakota Sioux, she was orphaned in the Minnesota Uprising in 1862 in New Ulm, Minnesota.   And so the story was passed on from generation to generation, from grandmother to grandmother.   Grandmothers are keepers of the stories, and ensure their wisdom moves forward with each generation. 

It was passed to me by my non-native grandmother who married one of Elizabeth’s sons - she guarded it and passed it to all her children and grandchildren.  She told how Elizabeth and her sister were in the tall grass, hiding, after their parents were killed. A brave came by and picked her up on horseback - she never saw her sister again.   

She was left in South Dakota near Fort Sisseton and there she would live out her days, have her children, and pass the blood of the Native American to her offspring.   But all grandmothers pass a piece of their soul with each generation, either through blood or story. And it is in these stories that we find our own wisdom and shelter. 

Sherry: That is an amazing history - or herstory! I recently learned that the egg that determined who we would be was formed inside our mother’s fetus while she was in our grandmother’s womb! Our beginning starts with them, not only our mothers. Perhaps this is another reason that our bonds with our grandmothers are so strong.

Barbara: The current ways of the world are not their ways - they knew the earth; they held the sky in their hearts.   My story-telling grandmother was born in a log cabin, born Swedish and Norwegian, the first of 12 children. Her father would be the one who brought all 12 children into this world. He was not a doctor but a farmer, who knew the gift of life as the deer knows her fawn. 

She would grow, others born, and stayed with her grandmother as the family moved west to Sisseton for land.   She would join them a few years later and become the mother of 11, after she married my 1/2 Native grandfather.   She would become the greatest influence to me and my brothers and sisters - her patience and eternal beauty was as earthly and whole as the earth.   

She believed in all people, and the gift of her stories and her love were her legacy until her death after 99 years.   She touched more souls and lived through more hardship then one should be able to bear, but she loved life, nature and her children.

Sherry: I love “they held the sky in their hearts". It sounds like your grandmother left many gifts to your family.

Barbara: Grandmothers are messengers, they are goddesses, carrying the light that is past for the world. Let us learn from their bloodlines the way of the earth, for she is our first mother and we have been put in charge to protect her.   She has many things to teach us, about ourselves and those around us.  From her we are born and unto her we will again rest.  

Sherry: Barbara, thank you for writing a poem especially for this chat. Let’s share it with our readers:

"Dignity"

Statue of A Sioux Woman 

in South Dakota

Artist: Dale Lamphere

source

Wisdom of Grandmothers

We collect wisdom in shards
And nettles
Dropped by winged women from the sky
We gather wisdom like souls that gather on the backs
of the great whales (centered and secure)
We (woman) harvest wisdom one seed,
one kernel at a time
We trash the harvest throw it to the sky gods for blessing
and health
We knead her and bake her we eat of her body

As a grandmother wears her offspring in each line on her face,
so too we wear Wisdom

Climb to the moon she says cling to her as the fetus to the fertile womb(man)- she will give you strength she will show you
your given path
be it wood or water -
be it desert or stone

Listen close (your ear) for the cry of the whale
Listen closer still (stillness)
for the call of the winged woman - she is Wisdom
the guardian of the gate
Call out to her at the water’s reflection and she will reveal 

her face
Round and full
Filled with the giving

Sherry: “Listen… for the cry of the whale”… I can see the winged woman’s face, round and full with the giving. What a glorious poem this is! Thank you so much, Barbara, for all you have shared with us here, and for this incomparably beautiful poem.

Let me leave you with my anguished wolf howls, and my insistence that our consciousness and our way of being on this earth can yet transform. Because it must. And there is no “other”. There is only you and me, human beings, alive on Planet Earth.

source

GRANDMOTHERS WITH WOLF HOWLS IN OUR HEARTS

Listen to the song of the ancients,
Grandmothers and Grandfathers from the Old Ways.
For we are the seventh generation,
the white buffalo calf has been born,
and the time of prophecy is at hand.

On the wind, I can hear Grandmother weeping.
She is calling to us to stand for the water, the air,
the forest, the earth and all its creatures.

What world will we leave to the children
seven generations from now?

The Black Snake slithers across the land.
Oil spills into rivers.
Mother Earth's womb is torn asunder by fracking.
Whales choke on plastic in a dying ocean
and the two poles are melting, week by week.

A madman sits in the throne of power
with money as his only god.
All protection is being stripped away;
men with dead eyes stalk the halls of government,
claiming truth is false news
and outrageous lies are truth.

In our hearts, Wild Woman stirs in protest.
This is our earth, the home that we love.
You cannot threaten our children's future
without incurring our wrath.
The Grandmothers' blood runs through our veins.
Our backbones grew strong in birthing.
Our hearts know truth.
We will never believe your lies.
When it comes to our children,
we have no choice but to fight.

We are gathering in front of 

the White House walls
in peace, but with hearts like banshees.

We are standing by the sides of rivers 

and sacred burial grounds.
We cannot turn away, for our beloveds are buried here
and our children  - and yours! - need this water to drink.
You have dotted the landscape of our nightmares
with strip mines and oil derricks and fracking.
Everywhere are nuclear power plants
that threaten our combined existence.
And now you rattle the sabers of war
and cast eyes on our fresh-cheeked children?

No! It is Enough.

We have lived men’s ways for millennia,
and look what a mess we're in.
The Grandmothers and the Mothers 

and the dancing Maidens
and the strong little rainbow children are rising
with fire in our eyes and transformation in our hearts -
with compassion even for you men in the halls of power,
wounded and empty, whose dead eyes proclaim
you have never felt truly loved.

Here is a secret: even a billion trillion dollars
will not ease that wound.

Instead, hug your sad-eyed sons and smile
- not like crocodiles -  at your unhappy wives.
Trade in your gold walls for a chance to be real,
and let the rest of us live in peace.

This war is a holy war of light over darkness
and truth over lies.
You have might, but we have Right
on our side,
and wolf howls in our hearts
that will never be silent
until social justice is
the rule of the land.

As humans, we have been less than we were meant to be. But we can rise. Our Grandmother Spirits, that have survived so much, and learned to fly, know this. We are rising, as a morning bird seeks higher ground.

My friends, we must never stop dreaming and believing. But we also need – most urgently – to act, to vote, to march, to contact our elected officials and insist they address climate change, to speak up for social justice, and to protest all that is wrong. We must actively strive for change.

There is much we can do: protect forests, plant trees, oppose projects that damage the earth, stand with the oppressed, and be a voice for those who cannot speak. And we can write our poems, hoping they send some good, caring energy out into the world and touch some minds and hearts along the way.

Thank you so much, Annell and Barbara, for this timely and important conversation, and for sharing your thoughts and poems with us. I feel inspired and hopeful, and I hope our readers do as well.

Do come back, friends, and see who we talk to next. Who knows? It might be you!

*Source

For those interested in reading further on this topic:

Woman and Nature: the Roaring Inside Her, by Susan Griffin

The Four Phases of a Woman’s Moon Cycle

The Moon School – The Divine Feminine

Kali Takes America – Vera de Chalambert

BLOG OF THE WEEK ~ AN UPDATE WITH BKM (BARBARA MACKENZIE)

Today, my friends, we are paying a visit to one of Poets United's very first members, Barbara Mackenzie, otherwise known as bkm, who blogs at signed bkm. Barbara joined Poets United in 2010, when Robert Lloyd first began the site. She took a few years hiatus from writing, as poets do from time to time, and we were so pleased to see her name pop up again at Mr Linky. I asked Barbara if she would give us an update, and she graciously agreed. Make yourself a lovely cup of afternoon tea, and pull your chairs in close. Let's dive in!   

Sherry: Wonderful to be chatting with you again, Barbara. We last spoke with you in 2011, for our Life of a Poet series. Would you give us a snapshot of your life today? 

Barbara: I live in Northern California in a valley community steeped in farming from nuts to rice to olive oil.  I live with my husband and one rescue dog, a black shepherd named Indy that is a sweet heart.  I am also in the process of getting a new puppy (a cavapoo); she will be moving in the beginning of January.  

Indy

Sherry: Oh, my goodness, Barbara. Indy looks like my boy, Pup. And you are so lucky to be getting a puppy! I long for one. Haddie is adorable.

Haddie

Barbara: I have been retired from Federal Service since 2009 but work part time in town for a Reclamation District that services the rice farmers in the area.  It is just enough to keep my hand in the workforce and socialize.

Sherry: It is nice when we work fewer hours. That works well with the creative process. You were very active in the poetry world, and then took some time away, as poets do from time to time. Tell us about what brought you back?

Barbara: I was very active in 2010 and 2011, writing and experimenting with various forms, then my husband became ill; that took precedence over writing.  Then I had a few health issues myself, but now everything has stabilized with the both of us, and life is moving at a good and healthy pace.  I now have time to listen to the words in my head and let them take form again with time to put them to the page.

  

Sherry: And we are so pleased to have you back! I'm so happy to know that you have both returned to good health. When did you first begin writing poetry, Barbara? What do you love about it?

Barbara: I began writing a few words as a child, always being drawn to verse and fairy tales.  I loved children’s poetry books and stories and collected and cherish them to this day.  I played with it throughout my life only studying it on my own mainly by reading various poets. 

source

Drawn of course to Browning, Dickinson, Frost and Millay .  I did not get really serious about it until about 2005, probably because I had more time available.

What I love about poetry is that a whole story can be told in few words, the challenge of expressing a vision and or emotion with few lines is what I love the most. I have never been a lover of novels or long drawn out story telling, maybe because I see the world in snippets of small tiny stories and events that make up the collective which is life.  

Sherry: That is a good explanation! Which do you prefer, when writing a poem, form or free verse?  Is there a form you find most challenging?

Barbara: I prefer free verse as any of those who have read my poetry can note. I occasionally will take on a sonnet or prose form, but prefer to let the words direct themselves and create their own form.  My poetry is how I view the world at that moment; it is up to me to put that view into writing and to let the words speak for themselves as they feel the need. I find writing poetry cleansing and at times a sacred space away from the world.

source

  

Sherry: I like the sound of that: a sacred space away from the world. When reading other poets, what kind of poem brings the strongest response from you? 

Barbara: It can be just about any form, but what the words have to do is take me to that place or moment or experience where I can feel, smell or hide in the words. When a love poem can let me experience the touch or warmth of a lover, when a river can beg me follow or I can feel and smell its rush of water or I (become/am) the one looking out a window as the writer and observe the world below with all its happenings and all its color.  I want to be drawn in and left wanting more.

Sherry: That could not be said any better. What impact does blogging have on your work? 

Barbara: Blogging is where all my work winds up. I have not written on paper in quite a while. Not only does it allow me to write quickly and place thought to paper, it allows me to then place it out there into the cyber world and hope that someone enjoys it. I have never published a collection or book of poems, so blogging allows me to set the words free and get some feedback and connect with other poets and, in kind, read their work. 

            

Sherry: This would be the perfect time to look at a few of your poems.

long sought

do not love me like another or one with feathered hat you bought

love me like the lover your heart has for so long sought

take me to the morning, the one the dawn has yet to kiss,

take me there, there where long since lovers in forever reminisce

held between the moon and midnight, between the stars and eternity

holding my name as your next breathe - is held in sweetest ecstasy...

do not love me like another or one with feathered hat you bought

love me like the lover your heart has for so long sought

give me but the moments that write volumes without end

suspend the ever after knowing full well it shall not come again

let me read within your eyes the words your silent lips dare not address

and press them to the pages that my life will inscribe as - its happiness

no, do not love me like another or one with feathered hat you bought

love me like the lover your heart has for so long now - sought....

bkmackenzie

copyrighted 2010

Sherry: Oh, so romantic, Barbara. How lovely. 

Mississippi Mud

i have pulled

the bullets from my head

and laid them on

the table

your attempt

to kill me has again failed

(failure) it was you

who chose a white world an unclouded day world

not me - i told you

i preferred black and white - soil

and mud against a purified

parceling - muddy, murky writing, mississippi bottom

mud - Faulkner writing, sweaty,

somewhere between light and dark - somewhere between

living and dying; an unsettling word - don't think you

can hold me against

a white background - an all white background

dressed in white

i don't know that kind'a

humble....

bkmackenzie

copyrighted 2011

Sherry: I can feel the narrator, not wanting to be boxed in, defined, preferring the unsettled, conducive to creative release. Well said! And lastly, we have a poem written more recently, which I really love. Let's take a peek.

clouded heart

  

do not reprimand me

i have been under the influence

the present moon has rendered me

speechless

and unquantifiable

as

human

i love you

more than a raining sky loves tears

mine

weeping warm

for a moon covered in the greys

of a clouded heart

how can you fault me for such

loving something so primal

as a moon

bkmackenzie

2016

Sherry: I adore "i love you / more than a raining sky loves tears." Beautiful. What other interests do you pursue when you aren’t writing, kiddo?

Barbara: I have had many interests throughout the years accompanying poetry. I sang in choirs for years, studied philosophy and human psychology, and am a close follower of Carl Jung’s view of life. I have many interests and consider myself a lifelong learner.  

Currently I have expanded creative forces into quilting, having studied textiles and their design. I am looking now into creating quilts that have a unique form of expression. I especially love the Modern/Abstract Quilts their simplicity and art forms.

Sherry: Your quilts are so beautiful. I imagine that must be very peaceful and satisfying work. Is there anything you’d like to say to Poets United, in closing? 

Barbara: I am thankful Poets United has always been there, with a place to express oneself and to make it available to be read by others. It has been a place where I have connected and met other poets from across the globe, to not only read their work but understand what is happening in their world.

 

I am especially thankful for you, Sherry, for all you have done and championed in keeping Poets United going and poets connected; that is a blessing for all of us.  

Sherry: We have a wonderful team, kiddo; I am just one humble part of it. I am so grateful that Mary stepped in to keep the site going when it was looking for an admin. Poets United is one of the great blessings of my life. We are very grateful for founding members like you, who keep coming back. Thank you for this lovely visit. We look forward to reading much more of your work.

It is so lovely, week after week, hearing from both old friends and new, catching up, getting to know each other better with every year that passes. Do come back and see who we talk to next. Who knows? It might be you!

Poetry Blog of the Week (12 July, 2010) - Signed.....bkm

Each week at Poets United we try to introduce our members and readers to a poetry blog found here in our community. We introduce each blog by giving a small snippet about the poet responsible for hosting this blog and the style of the blog. We also link to at least one of our favorite poems that can be found in the highlighted poet’s blog. Poets United is about reading, writing and enjoying one another’s poetry and this just one more way to show our support for one another. We hope you enjoy reading the highlighted blogs.

This Weeks Poetry Blog is:

Signed... ..bkm - The mysterious bkm helms this elegant little poetry and writing blog. The poetry and stories found on this site have that old Hollywood feel; it’s as if the prose presented here capture and manipulate an era gone by bringing it to the present. In addition to the poetry offered here, the photos chosen to ride along with the words and the overall layout of the site pull together nicely into a chic little blog. A prime example of the classic appeal that Signed…..bkm presents is the poem “A Lesser God”. This poem, to me, seemingly sets the stage for a silver screen bohemia version of Hepburn arguing the intellects of the day while sitting at a simple outdoor café. If that may be too big of a leap for some readers then I offer another example of the nostalgic air that the blog presents, the short story “A Man and A Woman”. It is a flash story that gracefully skirts around a French classic film and two lovers. It is a simply charming and enjoyable must read. Reading either of these two works will not be a disappointment and once you’ve been lured in by the style and appeal of bkm’s writing I am fairly certain you will move beyond these two pieces and explore the rest of the site. Signed…..bkm will leave you craving more after each visit.