The Hag
Aging is no fun. As I deal with my distress about changing appearance, aching joints, learning to recognize myself as a senior citizen, I decided to make a mask about that. The Hag is as ugly an old woman as I could make her: stringy hair, colorless skin, washed out features. Yet when I finished I noticed how brightly her eyes shine and I recognize her wisdom. She tells me there is freedom in growing older. There is a different kind of beauty. And there is joy.
She says:
“I am woman over 50, crone, wise woman, wild woman, mystic, cynic, psychic, sage. Invisible to most people, fearsome to some, ugly to others, I am the mother daughters fear they will become — and they will.”
