In these tales, the Aryans always retain their superhuman qualities. If true, Eisler's narrative stands as a dire warning of the fate that awaits a society that abandons hierarchy, male dominance, and violence for egalitarian pacifism. It is, in fact, a version of the Aryan superman myth which was the founding legend of Nazi Germany. This narrative dates back to the nineteenth century. According to these writers, this idyllic agricultural society was put to the torch by invading Indo-European speakers armed with superior military technologies. The symbol of these villains is the titular blade.Įisler's book is a further development of the thesis advanced by the Indo-Europeanist Marija Gimbutas and the archeologist James Mellaart about a supposed unitary matrilineal and Goddess-worshipping culture that was claimed to be widespread throughout "Old Europe", in the Balkans, Anatolia, Crete, Malta, and the northeastern Mediterranean. These people were the nomads of the Eurasian steppes who first tamed horses and built the first wheeled vehicles. These people worship a male god or gods of war, vengeance, and honor. In these societies, men rule by force, and women are oppressed. Their symbol is the titular chalice.īut they are threatened by the forces of evil patriarchy, which is hierarchical, warlike, and based on dominance and submission. These societies once existed throughout early Bronze Age Europe. This creates a wonderful society which is egalitarian, peaceful, and matrifocal, centering on nurture and worshipping a benevolent mother goddess. One was a "gylany", Eisler's neologism for a society in which relationships between the sexes are an egalitarian partnership. Read the poem again, aloud (if you didn’t the first time).Human societies in prehistoric antiquity were of two kinds, according to Eisler.Jot down what you notice, what you like, what you don’t like, what questions you have, and at least one way in which the poem speaks to your soul.Three of Carroll’s Make Me poems are here. All you need is a pencil and paper (or a computer, if you prefer to be able to read your own writing). Lean into the metaphor and make your poem a prayer.Įven when you don’t feel like writing a poem, you can always journal about one. Pick something from nature, pick a tool, pick a sacred vessel. Now as I look out at my tree, unexpectedly green after recent unusual summer rains, it is also my tree of promise.
The result? I wrote something I wouldn’t have written otherwise - and I prayed something I wouldn’t have prayed otherwise. If I were to become redbud, what would I be that I am not yet? What questions do I need to ask of the God who makes trees? What unexpected answers might He give if I were to pray the prayers of a redbud? With Carroll’s poems in mind, I wanted mine to not only be a nature poem - an I sure like redbuds, aren’t they pretty poem - but also a poem of metaphor. We planted it with hope that we might find some shade from the near-constant barrage of burning sun, drying our souls like the parched ground. It was always a tree of God’s promise for my mother. It is now as tall as the house and still growing.
I wrote Make Me Redbud after the native tree we planted in our tiny backyard four years ago when we moved to this house. Carroll hails from Vermont, and I, from Texas, so my Make Me poems sound different from hers. If you are writing/praying “ Make Me Red-Tailed Hawk,” you are praying something different into being than if you are praying “Make Me Canary.” When Carroll writes “Make Me Willow,” she becomes the tree known for its weeping.Īlas, I have no willow trees where I live. It comes from a Greek work meaning “to transfer.” In other words, this becomes that. Metaphor is a powerful tool for the poet and the pray-er. It changed not only how she wrote, but how she prayed. Through writing these Make Me poems, however, she began to lean into metaphor.
In her dark seasons, she had been working through her pain by writing about beauty in nature. In an interview with Ruminate, Carroll said these are poems of lament. There are seven of them: “Make Me a River,” “Make Me a Chalice,” “Make Me Sheet Moss,” “Make Me Willow,” “Make Me Red-Tailed Hawk,” and “Make Me Plow Blade.” I spent a month steeping in these poems and the others in the collection, journaling and writing my own poems in response. Then a friend gifted me Carroll’s Habitation of Wonder, and I read the “Make Me” poems for myself. Collins wrote her own versions in response to Carroll’s in her Hearts on Pilgrimage. I first came across Abigail Carroll’s “Make Me” poems by proxy.