The Raven and the Wren

Sitting in the waiting room of a surgical hospital is how I spent election morning. Wondering if the surgeon would be able to concentrate as he repaired the tiny holes in my sister’s ear, and would she still maintain any hearing in her right ear? I sat there with my nephew, waiting for her surgery outcome, and waiting for our country’s outcome as well. In the end, neither turned out like we hoped. So far her hearing is still with us, but the recovery hasn’t been as easy as we hoped. Doesn’t look like the recovery for this country is going to be as easy as we had hoped either.

There are a million things I could say, a million opinions I could echo back at you to relay what so many others are also feeling, but we already know all that don’t we? The rivers of fear and anger are running both ways right now, and it’s almost impossible to tell which way to point your canoes to avoid the whirlpools of despair. As I watched the election results come in, I bit my tongue, all the “I told you so’s” running bloody down the back of my throat. I sat talking with my sister, as we both watched our fates unfold. What is it to be a woman in these United States right now? What is it to be anything of any otherness right now? If you stand in shoes other than the status quo of white straight male, what does that mean?

It means resistance. It means putting my body where my mouth is. It means standing in the doorway, when the big bad wolf blows, no matter how hard. It means fighting back after the last bell rings, and sometimes fighting dirty. It means supporting marginalized groups of people, it means all those things you keep saying you’re going to do, have to get done. It means I have to make a choice. I can “survive” this calamity or I can rage through it like a forest fire. That choice is mine, and it’s also yours. As for me? I say let it burn.

birds flying across cloudy sky — photo by Jasmeet Singh

Growing up, I was often accused of being overly dramatic. I know, right, who could have ever thought such a thing? Too emotional, too reactive to everything, and too loud in my responses. If I had a dollar for every time I was told I was being too loud, I could’ve bought this thing, too. Over the years I’ve often wondered about that. Was I really too loud, or was I an example of the kind of woman we need to start as and grow from? Do loud women start as loud children, is that the
place where we first lose our voice? I’m pretty sure it is. What I do know is this, right now, at this moment we need the loud women. The ones with fire in their breath and rage in their eyes. The ones with fingers like talons and voices like banshees. Are you not mourning yet, don’t you sense that deep need for keening? If not, as a woman you’ve missed the whole dang thing.

I think part of me just expects women to naturally stand up for the rights of others, to protect those that need protecting, and to help those that need help. While I reckon that’s the responsibility of everyone, it generally falls on the few. So now the question for myself is, how do I do that? How do I fight back, how do I stand in my strength and maintain the softness and
gentleness my immediate family and friends need at times? I’m sure that’s a question many of us have been asking ourselves for years.

For me, personally, I can’t help but feel the strength of the amazing women around me, and the many I see fighting from afar. I hear their voices in my head and I feel their struggle in my veins, just as I have since childhood. Maybe that’s why I was so loud, maybe that’s why I learned to use my voice willfully and of my own accord at a very early age. Maybe it was a kind of preparatory school for my adulthood. I don’t know the answer to that, but I do know this, now is the time for our loud voices. We can no longer sit in the back of the room and wait our turn, we can no longer allow our voices to be stifled. We must call out every threat to our existence. It doesn’t matter what direction this threat comes from. It no longer matters who it comes from.

I have a seven year old little girl, a lot of folks don’t know that, a lot of folks don’t know I have little small hobbits still rolling around here. They are the joy of my life. Every day I learn, I learn more about who I am and who I truly want to be. Every day I learn what it means to be a woman of strength and how to model that back to little eyes. Every day I learn what it means to raise a strong and willful child. The child with briars in her hair and mud on her toes, that loudly cries No! The child that stands in her emotions and lets them all fly, and to hell with how others perceive them. The child that demands respect but also gives it when earned, the little girl that knows hugging is her choice and that saying no is her right.

But the reality is this, right now her rights are in extreme danger. Right now she has less rights than I had at her exact age. So I don’t have a lot of choices here, do I? I can continue to find new ways to fight back, I can find new ways to be part of the resistance, because I don’t have a choice. My little girl’s life depends on it. All the while the balance must be held of helping others along the way.

Am I angry? I am so angry, and I carry that anger with me and try to keep it in the category of righteous anger. I slip and I fall off that teetering fence all the time, and I land smack in the middle of a lawn made of lava. I’m not nearly as good at playing ‘the floor is lava’ as my kiddos are, so I just kinda thrash around in that boiling anger pool. Then I get back up and carry on.

I recently wrote about watching all the devastation unfold in Western North Carolina. Many people I love and highly respect were directly impacted, and I watched in horror as houses and lives were simply washed away. When the sun came again what I saw was an army of women, doing the work we have done for millenia. Is there food, is there water, what do the babies need, what do the children need, what does our community need? But the words are true for any great fight we as women fight each and every day. Maybe it will help you through a few things over this next bit of time.

The duality of who we are is often our greatest strength. The “bothness”, that ability to love with the light of a thousand flames and then turn and burn with a fire of all consuming righteous anger. Now is the time. Now is the moment to dance this dance of ever changing rhythms and hold fast to who we are at the same time. To move our feet as a whole, until we’re all dancing the same beat. I’ve been accused of being a little fatalistic, of being the henny penny with the sky always falling. Well buckle up, buttercup, it is falling. Right now, at this very moment, and that damned umbrella ain’t gonna do a thing! This is a fatalistic situation. It’s resistance or death. That’s the hill some of us are already on.

I’m the Raven and I’m the Wren
I am lion and I am lamb
I am water and I am fire
I am nightmare and desire

I’m a mother to this world,
And I’ll bare a cradle to my grave
But I will not turn from my path
I’ll be a light that guides the way.

from “The Raven and the Wren” by Krista Chapman Green (c) 2024

You can hear (and puchase!) this song here on Krista’s Bandcamp site.

After reading all this back, maybe I’ve simply come up with more questions than answers. Maybe I will wake up tomorrow and this will have all been a bad dream. My small girl goblin will be safe and all her rights restored. All the homes will be rebuilt and lives returned and the world will be a place of love and acceptance. People of all colors, genders and identities will just live their lives as happy folks, with only small problems in need of small fixes.

I believe that morning will come. When the sun rises and we all rise with it, strong loving humans whose greatest desire is just to help each other live a life untangled by hate and greed, but that morning isn’t here yet. So I and many others just like me will keep fighting, keep protecting, and keep loving. Because it will take all of those things to make that morning possible.

I love you all, it doesn’t matter if we haven met. You are in my thoughts as we navigate this new and strange world. I’m with you, standing with you, shoulder to shoulder and hand in hand.

All proceeds from the purchase of the Raven And the Wren go to The Mother Grove Goddess Temple to be used for recovery efforts for those devastated by Hurricane Helene. The funds are appreciated more than you know. The song can be purchased on my bandcamp page. We will also be holding an online fundraiser on December 14. So please watch for more information on my facebook page and The Mother Grove page. I feel so blessed to be a part of a large group of musicians coming together to meet need where it is.

Together we are so much more than we can ever be alone. May these coming holidays, in whatever way you keep, them bring you together with the people you love. Perhaps you can find room for a few new faces that might be alone this year.

cover photo of birds flying across a cloudy sky by Jasmeet Singh

For more information about Krista Chapman Green, including her collected articles here on Pagan Song, her bio, and links to Krista’s sites on the web, check out Krista’s page on Pagan Song.

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