I have a Dream. I have a Dream that a council of Grandmothers similar to the International Council of Thirteen Indigenous Grandmothers walks into the US Congress building and takes it over.
But these are not only indigenous Grandmothers. These are the Grandmothers of the men and women whom are currently holding office there, as elected officials.
In this dream, the Grandmothers walk into each Representative and Senator’s offices and takes these men and women by the scruff of their neck and marches them into their huge meeting chambers and sits them down. Most of these elected officials will go kicking and screaming, but there will be no way to resist the power of these Grandmothers. Other elected officials, a few, will welcome the Grandmother that has marched into their office and lead them to the large chamber hall. A few.
And once they are all there, it will be time for the Grandmothers to talk. And they will talk. They will raise their voices at times. They will let these ‘adults’ there in Congress know that the modus operandi is not working. And all of these elected officials need to “knock it off or no more apple pie, ever. No more homemade apple pie again in their lives.”
They will also threaten to send these elected officials to bed early. Or possibly even ground them.
They will make it very clear that the childish behaviors and refusal to take into account the unborn children of the next – yes – seven generations in their decision making has got to just stop. Or Else.
There will not be any spankings. There will not be any hands raised at all. And the elected officials will not be able to interrupt. There will not even be any allowance for questions. You don’t question a Grandmother who has just had enough. You listen to her.
You listen to her because she is wise. She has lived a very full life and experienced tremendous joy and suffering, and love and sorrow. She has seen people die close to her. She has raised a family and lived with a man who did or did not treat her well. She has grown into a powerful force in her family that can pull everyone together and still cook the entire Thanksgiving meal, in her own kitchen, with no help. Thank you very much, and clear out of the way.
You listen to one of these Grandmothers because they carry a truth that only a sage crone can carry. And this is about loving the children. This is about loving the Earth and taking care of the Earth. This is about putting petty stuff aside and laughing at the rediculousness of four years. This is about stomping on egos and power that is false and has been holding sway too long.
This is about recognizing where the real power has lay latent and suppressed for way too long, in the bellies of these ancient women who are trying to sleep at night and not cry each evening into their pillows because of the suffering all around.
Yes, this is a dream.
But I would like to get a group of these Grandmothers together and ask them if they might want to rent a bus and go to DC and round up some legislators. The scruff of the neck is a good place to start to get someone’s attention.
Or maybe it will just be the threat of never having any more apple pie, homemade no less, ever again.
This just might work.