Old Crane Woman is sitting on her egg. Day after day, hour after hour, hatching her egg, and Old Crane Woman is thinking. She’s thinking about love. You think she doesn’t love, Old Crane Woman? You think she’s too old to love? You think she’s too cranky?
Old Crane Woman loves. I’ll tell you what she loves. Old Crane Woman loves truth. Yes, she can hear you sighing over there; you think she cares? You think she doesn’t know what it means? She has no patience with philosophy; she doesn’t much care to debate the meaning of words. Doesn’t much care what you think words mean; just cares what you do about them. That’s Old Crane Woman; she’s tired of all the bullshit. Old Crane Woman knows what she means. Truth is the heart of reality – that’s what Old Crane Woman means. Truth is the right order of things. Take it or leave it, she doesn’t care: truth is the making or breaking of the world. Truth is the cup of justice, the scales of balance, the stone of responsibility. And Old Crane Woman has no time for those who don’t take responsibility.
Look at the world, Old Crane Woman whispers. You made it. Is it true? You made it in your own image. Is your image true? Stand back now and judge it. Is your judgment true?
If the world you made is not true, what will you do about it? Old Crane Woman won’t rest till you’ve done something about it. How will you make the world true?
Old Crane Woman is hatching an egg.
What is she hatching?