The Deep Dreaming of Enchanted Crones

Apr 09, 2025

There is time during the day to engage in the activism necessary to fight for our democracy. Sometimes, there is too much time—too much awareness of what is happening, too much reflection on how to navigate the uncharted waters of a government led by a madman. One of the ways I cope with the heaviness of these historic times is by cloaking them in the language of mythology and symbolism. Creative imagination buffers the suffering and reminds me that the human story is one of war—and of the eternal longing to return to the heart of wonder that we call home.

A dark and cloistered forest path leads to a clearing where old women dance, remembering the wildness of youth and the promises of unspoken poems. The song they sing is one of lamentation—a haunting melody of the suffering flooding our world. Aching, empty arms reach for what once was, and is no longer. Will it ever be again?

Bless the cauldron of tears collected by these dancing, weeping women. This rainwater of the soul baptizes and initiates us into a new world—one that now more than ever needs the deep dreaming of enchanted crones. These crones have not forgotten that the veil between the visible and invisible is sheer enough to slip through. The invisible is a place of rest, a sacred temenos in which to heal and gather courage, while the visible world waits for our return, carrying voices that sing of justice and freedom.

We’ve come to know him too well—the monstrous cyclops just outside the door. His single eye is trained only on destruction. His is the cry of “Burn it all down,” wailed by a wounded child who gave his heart to revenge and his soul to the gods of greed. The putrid breath of his lies seeps beneath doors, the yellow smoke of hatred and vengeance. We cannot let it choke us off from our own humanity.

Enchantment lives on in the DNA of women. It is a feeling tone of deep pleasure—a rapture of the soul drawn toward the beauty of creation and creativity. Enchantment is the vision and charm of possibility. It is the quiet grace of deep dreaming, which never forgets the wonder of this world or this life.

The image of dancing old women taps into a wise place that understands the daily labor:

Lift up those around you with kindness and goodwill. Kindness is the bedrock of a civil society.
Goodwill is the welcoming hand that reminds us we are not alone—we are stronger together.
Make something every day. Tend to gardens. Prepare nourishing meals.
Create art with thread and fiber, paint and pencil.
Play music that transports the heart.
Dance. Move the numbing poison of the cyclops’s breath out of your body.
Sing the songs of justice. Blend your voice with the activism of speaking out.
See and name the goodness in others. Be slow to criticize and quick to praise.
Collect small joys.
Keep the phrase “Live fully and love well” in your pocket.

We are being asked—invited—to ground ourselves in new meaning. This chaos, this upheaval, is a call to mine the depths of our psyche and reimagine, reclaim, and rejuvenate ourselves, our people, and our country. The enchanted crones have not forgotten. They are the guardians of what must be kept alive in our hearts.

Dear reader, each day find a way to escape the intensity for a little while, but Don’t go back to sleep, as Rumi warned. Stay awake and draw strength from the invisible and the quiet, from the enchanted crones who dare to dream deeply.

Here are just some of the enchanted crones I imagine dancing with on the other side of the veil. Their scars have deepened both their wisdom and their resolve. Meet them here and let them soothe and inspire you. We do that for each other: