There is a song Linda Ronstadt sings, from her Mexican heritage, about women, the lyrics are:
Oh the women ‘cross the river carry water from the well at break of day
And they talk to one another; God only knows what they might say
You might get an education after years of dedication
You might finally get a glimpse of what is right and what is wrong
But the women ‘cross the river; well they knew that all along
Oh the women ‘cross the river work with tools that are ancient and hand-made
And they plow their fields in perfect rows and then they rest beneath the shade
Now we have learned to build, out of concrete, out of steel
And our buildings stand a thousand years but then even they are bound to fall
But the women ‘cross the river never learned to build a wall
Oh the women ‘cross the river are as gentle as the dew upon the ground
How I love to hear them laughing in the rain when it makes that perfect sound
Now a soldier with a gun and a battle to be won
Might kill you with a bullet and you never even know the reason why
But the women ‘cross the river; they can kill you with their eyes
Oh the women ‘cross the river; they can kill you with their eyes
I thought about these types of women while in Mexico. The United States has been unable to elect or even fathom a woman for president, and the current president of Mexico is Claudia Sheinbaum Pardo, a Mexican Jewish climate specialist. She is considered the 4th most powerful woman in the world! She is also both Sephardic and Ashkenazic.
Speaking of strong women, spending time again at Frida Kahlo’s house in Coyoacán, any idea of Frida as an invalid, as a cuckquean by Diego, vanishes in the power of the woman’s artistry, both in her life and in her work.
But nothing compares to my favorite virgin – la Virgen de Guadalupe – who appears to a peasant, Juan Diego in 1531, and in the first image transfer we know of, becomes part of Juan’s sarape. We went to the Basilica – not one but five churches with a sprawling plaza built to honor her. There in the church resides the fabric from Juan Diego. Well it is suspected this was a ploy by the Catholic Church to get the indigenous folks on board with catholicism but I love her story. I watched ancient women get on their knees and walk across the plaza to the Basilica – the modern one, designed by Pedro Ramírez Vázquez – which holds 8,000 people!
I could have spent more time at the Basilica rather than the pyramids – it has more connection to now – I took my artifacts that I had purchased for our Dia de los Muertos event and walked over to have them blessed by a priest who was outside offering benedictions. He was doling out drops of Holy Water with a big scepter on folks as they stepped up, but when he turned and saw me he nearly emptied the bucket like a fire hose drenching me in Holy Water! Lord Today!
Afterwards, we climbed the stairs to one of the oldest of the churches, but first stopped for Linda and I to light candles for our loved ones.
We skipped the photo op on a donkey, but I couldn’t help but snap a photo of these two on them! I love our Lady of Guadalupe because she is a morena, a brown-skinned woman, and her story is a story of the people. Even if she was a ploy to get the peasants on board, she makes more sense than the other miracles I’ve heard of.
[Thank you for reading my writing; I love hearing from you and
would love to gather your responses here, instead of on social media.]