Bread and Roses

   My friend, Madame One Tree, wrote a response to my depressive lament over my abundant size. Click here to check out a burlesque show by a Big Grrl over at Madame's place! I absolutely adore Katherine Lashe, and Madame has good thoughts. I'm glad to find a woman who shares my passion for the Divine Feminine.

   In other thoughts on womanity, my dear Anna sent me this:

Song Lyrics of Bread and Roses



As we go marching, marching, in the beauty of the day,

A million darkened kitchens, a thousand mill lofts gray,

Are touched with all the radiance that a sudden sun discloses,

For the people hear us singing: Bread and Roses! Bread and Roses!


As we go marching, marching, we battle too for men,

For they are women's children, and we mother them again.

Our lives shall not be sweated from birth until life closes;
Hearts starve as well as bodies; give us bread, but give us roses.


As we go marching, marching, unnumbered women dead

Go crying through our singing their ancient call for bread.

Small art and love and beauty their drudging spirits knew.

Yes, it is bread we fight for, but we fight for roses too.


As we go marching, marching, we bring the greater days,

The rising of the women means the rising of the race.

No more the drudge and idler, ten that toil where one reposes,

But a sharing of life's glories: Bread and roses, bread and roses.


Our lives shall not be sweated from birth until life closes;

Hearts starve as well as bodies; bread and roses, bread and roses.

    I like this song, and I would love to learn it and sing it with my girls. I hope that classicists do not object, but here is a modernization of the old song, remade in honor of international women's day:


 
    My mother taught me a lot of the peace songs that she knew, and we thought it appropriate to sing them to my nephew while he was trapped in the car with us on the way to Woodstock! We sang,"Where have all the flowers gone?", "Blowing In The Wind", "We Shall Overcome", "We are a Rainbow Made of Children" and even "If I had a Hammer." I wonder if my mom knows this one? I bet she does. I wasn't raised by wolves, just hippies. We sing a lot.
 
   I spent my day as women all over the world probably did. I did about twenty dollars worth of laundry at the laundromat, sorting, folding, and hauling with my daughters. I scrubbed the bathroom. I scrubbed the kitchen. I cooked  nutritious meals at home. I delivered food to my man at work, little ones following behind me. The children went to the corner store with pocket money. I spoke to my mother. I cursed the humid weather. I scolded my children. When the weather broke, and the rain angrily pounded down, I sent the children outside to play in the downpour, mostly to get them out of my hair. Not much different from a thousand of my ancestors, and in its own way, rewarding.
 
Love and light,
your friend,
Mountain