Workbook · The Devoted series
The Devoted Crone
Weaving Legacy
Some things we carry for decades: a choice we can't forgive, a hurt that still stings, a hard season we never talk about. The Crone asks you to bring all of it to her fire, set down what was never yours to keep, and weave the rest into something worth handing on.
The fire at dusk
An old woman sits by a small fire with her hands full of weaving. A younger woman comes down the track with red eyes and sits across from her without a word. The old woman pours tea and says something so outrageous the girl laughs before she can stop herself.
Then she listens. All of it. And when the girl falls quiet, she asks one question: "Is there anything more you'd like to share?"
The Crone isn't waiting at the end of your life. She's the part of you that has already come through endings, and knows how to turn them into wisdom. You don't need silver hair to meet her. You only need to be ready to stop carrying things alone.
Who it's for
For the woman ready to set down the old weight, and pass on what it taught her.
She might be a grandmother, or she might be thirty and already tired of pretending the hard years didn't happen. She has lived enough to know some things for certain, and she wants that knowing to land somewhere: in her children, her community, the women walking a few steps behind her.
Nana Miriama Tahi at her homestead, with harakeke (flax) growing behind her.
What's inside
Four lessons, each one a strand, woven into a kete (basket) you can keep or give away
Every lesson ends with practical steps, pages to write on, and space to look at the patterns running through your whole life, not only one moment of it.
Her shadows and her legacy
Each lesson starts in the shadow, then shows you what she does with it.
The Crone's shadows are heavy because they've often been carried for so long. She doesn't pretend they aren't there. She picks each one up, turns it over, and finds the legacy hiding inside it.
From Kia
"I grew up in Australia feeling like my Māori side belonged to someone else. My first trip home was for my Nana Miriama's tangi (funeral). I stepped off the plane and my uncle and cousin said, 'Welcome home, bub.' I've never forgotten it. The women of my line had been holding my place the whole time."
Inside, I share Nana Miriama's cup-of-tea medicine, the weaving she did alongside Rangimārie Hetet, and the lessons the Crone has been teaching me since her face first came to me in meditation.
Your investment
$20
a small price for something you'll hand on
The fourth workbook in the Devoted series, closing the first circle after the Maiden, the Mother and the Maga.
The Devoted series