A few years ago, I came across a book called “Crones Don’t Whine” by Jean Shinoda Bolen, M.D. I’m willing to admit that I’ve probably done more than my share of whining at various points in my life, so perhaps that’s what attracted me. I don’t think it was because I had ever considered calling myself a crone.
The author (who it turns out is the first cousin of a friend) writes that “to be a crone is about inner development, not outer appearance.” It’s not what I thought of when I first considered the word.
The usual image, the one that leaped to mind then and sometimes even now, is of the wicked stepmother in “Sleeping Beauty,” who shows up with a poisoned apple while dressed as a really ugly old witch — not how I picture myself even in my most negative moments.
But like a lot of words where meanings have shifted with time (Did you know that a clue was originally a ball of yarn? Me either) or been assigned different meanings to suit political leanings (think “woke”1), crone, at least in Shinoda Bolen’s book is no longer a “cruel and ugly old woman” as defined by Merriam-Webster, but a person capable of expressing her true self.
“She does not advert her eyes or numb her mind from reality. She can see the flaws and imperfections in herself and others, but the light in which she sees is not harsh and judgmental. She has learned to trust herself to know what she knows.”2
Naturally, I’m more than happy to adopt that definition, even when I don’t think I live up to it.
Shinoda Bolen goes on to list 13 qualities of being a crone. Trust me, if you’re still young and you read the book, you’ll come away wanting to hurry up the aging process. If you already have more years behind you than in front of you, the book will give you some new ways to think about how you’re currently approaching being the oldest person in the room.
I think that’s why it recently came to mind again and sent me hunting for my copy. When I look around the yoga studio to see who else is in the class, it’s pretty obvious that there might be one other person approaching my age and 15 or so who are not. The same goes for a couple of classes I’m taking this winter to try to tap into my artistic side, as if that alone wasn’t challenging enough. As charming and talented as my classmates are, it’s still a little disconcerting to consider the age gap.
Rereading portions of the “Crones Don’t Whine” doesn’t make me less conscious of the gap, but it does make me see that it’s not worth worrying about.
“I yam what I yam.” — Popeye, the Sailor Man
Certainly I know better than to quarrel with the wisdom of a 91-year-old cartoon character who pronounces “am” as “yam.”
Woke’s original meaning is “aware of and actively attentive to important societal facts and issues (especially issues of racial and social justice).” It’s also used to disparage people who do just that. Merriam-Webster
“Crones Don’t Whine; Concentrated Wisdom for Juicy Women.” Jean Shinoda Bolen, M.D. Conart Press 2003. Page 8, Kindle version.
Thanks for this article. I am going to a group on aging tomorrow and will use the quote you provided. I love the ideas of wisdom and inner work Beth
Sharon Blackie calls this time in women's lives "hagitude," which isn't much better, I guess. But the same kind of emphasis on wisdom and empowerment applies: https://hagitude.org