Calling a Murder of Crow Womyn: Calling on Crones Becoming

I’m a long-processor. While some folks are able to have an experience and immediately share what they think, feel, believe, and will do with the experience, I can’t. I have an experience - whether it’s a trance, a shamanic journey, or watching the disturbing news play out on the internet, the information sits on the surface, and floats like oil for a while. I couldn’t really talk about it if I wanted to.  

Eventually, the oil separates and sinks slowly becoming integrated within me - in my brain, in my heart, in my blood and bones. Once that happens, I MIGHT be able to talk about it. I MIGHT be able to share my feelings, and I MIGHT be able to define some action that could be useful.  

The recent SCOTUS decision is one of those experiences. While I watched oh-so-many people hit the social networks with their rage and fury, with their research, their quotes, and pictures of marches and demonstrations, I sat quietly, I sat still. I looked at the mountain. I didn’t touch the oil that I knew was floating on the top of the water. It wouldn’t have done any good.

Instead, I listened to the birds. First the ravens - because what Norse shamanic woman doesn’t listen to ravens? And then I heard the crows - the smaller, more social, and sometimes chattier crows. They had something to say.

I also went on an omen hunt. I sat and listened to the wind and called out to the skies on the land that raised me. I sat and sang the runes with my eyes closed, and when I opened my eyes, a beautiful mare with a white blaze was staring at me as two more mares walked toward me. A pink locust sat next to my foot.

Crows. Horses. Locusts. Wind.

Community, communication, destruction, song.

I am an old lady.  Not an old old lady, but an old lady…oldish, really, I suppose. I’m 52. My moon-cycle is still coming, but it’s wiggly, unreliable, and clearly trying to let go. I am on the edge of complete infertility. I say “complete” because I have reached 52 without being pregnant but one time, and that pregnancy lasted only about a minute before it washed away, a tiny tiny tiny tiny clot in a small puddle of blood. I haven’t used any “protection” since I was in my early 20s. The SCOTUS decision doesn’t impact me as a reproducing female. That’s part of the reason this has taken me so long to process. I have a dog in this race for only 2 reasons: I have friends and beloveds who have the ability to reproduce and who are now in danger, and I am a womyn with a body and thus a 2nd class citizen.  

The questions I was holding when I went looking for an omen were these: “Do I have a role in this, and if so, what action am I called to take?”

The answer is yes.  I do.  And what am I to do?  The answer is to do what I do, and that is to build a community. I am called to create a new social, learning, and action network - a murder of crows or Crones committed to developing their wisdom and medicine, loving the earth and the bodies born on this planet, and singing or speaking or writing or creating against this and all oppression.

Old ladies, Crones in the making - that’s who I’m calling out to.  

We are powerful BECAUSE it might seem like we are becoming invisible to society, unimportant, unnecessary. We are powerful BECAUSE we have lived as long as we have, dropped our need to give too many fucks, and shed at least some of the baggage that kept us tied down.  We are powerful, and we are at our most powerful when we are wise, connected, and vocal.

Crone Womyn. Crow Womyn.  Let’s gather together and make some noise.


If you or someone you know is interested in hearing more as this network develops, please send an email to and include Crow Womyn in the subject line.  I'll add you to the loop, and you'll know what I know as I know it.



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