From the Great Council of Grandmothers,

through Sharon McErlane

Live From THIS Place

I went to the Grandmothers, although I wasn’t really sure why. What did I want to ask them? But before I could form a question, they spoke. “Why do you think we come to you as the Grandmothers?” they asked. “Why do we show up as women? Older women? Why as a group?” they asked, peering intently into my eyes. “I don’t know, Grandmothers,” I said. “I mean, I have some ideas about these things but I don’t really know.”

“We are wise women,” they said, referring to themselves, ” … older, experienced in living. We’ve learned how to give away, how to love with no strings attached. We listen and because we do, we’ve accrued great understanding. You don’t gain that except through experience,” they laughed, “and we have experience! We also work together,” they smiled, “always together.

“In the world the older woman is overlooked, dismissed, and ignored,” they said, and I found that I agreed with them. “Most people are in a great hurry. Rushing, pushing, worrying, scrambling,” they said, “but not us. No,” they shook their heads. “We know better. We understand that nothing happens before its time. There’s no rushing life,” they said. “It unfolds on its own. You’ve learned that too, haven’t you?” they asked, looking me over. “Uh, yes, Grandmothers,” I agreed, “well, at least I’m continuing to learn.”

“We know, we know!” they crowed. “And we’re here to teach you!” “Oh!” I exclaimed. “Is that what this is about? Is it time for me to learn more patience?” but the Grandmothers only laughed.

“You are growing impatient,” they said, “impatient with the way things are in the world. Eager for goodness, for kindness and peace to reassert themselves on earth. You’re tired of all the darkness. Tired of the anger and meanness that continue to surface. In fact,” they said, “you can hardly bear any more of it.” “Yes, Grandmothers,” I shook my head, “you’re right.”

“Come here!” they suddenly said, and reached their arms to me. “Step into our circle. Come into alignment with us. Don’t hold yourself separate,” they said. “Don’t hold yourself ‘over there,'” they gestured, “but instead, come ‘over here’!” I did as they said. I stepped forward into their embrace and when I did, they aligned my spine with theirs. Now I was part of a long line of women … part of the formation that is the Grandmothers.

“Take a look at life on earth from THIS position,” they said, and I lifted my head and gazed out over the horizon. Everywhere I looked there was beauty. Above and below, near and far. Beauty. Only beauty. Flowing patterns of color and form. It was a visual symphony, magnificent in every way. “Where’s all the darkness? The ugliness?” I asked, squinting to see where it was hiding. But there was no darkness. There was no ugliness. Only beauty. Beauty and then … more beauty.

“Live from this place,” the Grandmothers said. “Look out at the world from here, from the place of alignment with us. We promise that things will look very different to you,” they said.

The Grandmothers had given me a new way of seeing the world. It wasn’t a new world; this world had always been there, but before they adjusted my vision, I hadn’t been able to see it. But now I could because I had the larger view. I turned to the Grandmothers then, so moved by their generosity, I couldn’t speak. All I could do was mutely nod my head in thanks to them for this great gift they’d given me. This gift of the larger vision is for you too.

from Sharon McErlane