Dear St Anne, Find Me A Man
"He loves me, he loves me not" goes the childhood flower petal game, where a young girl has her first experience of divination to determine who her future love may be. If you open any book on foraging, herbal remedies or plant folklore you will find many similar practices, whereby herbs and flowers will be placed in buttonholes and under pillows to allow the young maiden to see the future.
And while this may seem romantic and wistful, beneath it all we see a ruthlessness that young girls have, an intuitive knowing that the type of man you end up with can make or break you. In times gone by the matter of a husband could be life or death, and a prudent choice was essential for a safe life and getting your basic needs met. As the phrase goes; "if your husband chews, be glad he doesn't smoke. If your husband chews and smokes, be glad he doesn't drink. And if he does all three, be glad he won't live long"
With stakes that high, how were young women to know who was the one for them?
Clarissa Pinkola Estes talks in her book Women Who Run With The Wolves about the importance of grandmothers and mothers teaching young girls survival instincts and discernment, in a world that so often tells women to be nice and polite instead of listen to their inner wolf that raises its hackles and growls danger. "Be friendly, but never tame" she says, lest you fall prey to the type of unscrupulous man who is happy to love bomb and overwhelm your sensibilities as a means of trapping.
So many women discover the monster beneath when it is too late. Just like Bluebeard's chorus of dead wives, our grandmothers through the generations who were trapped are singing us to safety from beyond the veil. I have heard them in my dark moments.
In Italian Folk Magic by Mary-Grace Fahrun, she talks of a well beloved grandmother in Naples called Signora Teresa who had a number of tricks for picking a husband. Who, after all, is wiser than a grandmother? When we lived communally she would have observed the young men from cradle to manhood and could observe who was courteous, kind and hard-working and who was bad news. In the old tales, character is always determined by how kind one treats the old woman who appears as if by magic.
When Signora Teresa passed away girls prayed to her and made her a local saint, and Fahrun's aunts prayed to her to find their niece a good husband. The legend says that you must pray to Signora Teresa and carry a basil leaf and a clove of garlic in your purse, and the basil will attract a good man and the garlic drive away a bad one.
I will never forget the way my grandmother's eyebrows raised when I left the house to kiss an ex-boyfriend goodbye, at his insistence. "That won't last long" she said wryly, mouth grim. And I will never forget the first time she met my husband and told me, quite seriously - "he's kind. You want to hold onto that one."
In the modern world we can leave unsuitable men, leave marriages that have run their course or become abusive, but the world of dating for women is still fraught with peril when there are no wise grandmothers overseeing the young people. Commitment-phobes, situationships, criminal records, misogynists.Who are you going to call to help you?
Two years ago I took part in the St. Anne novena. In the roman catholic tradition, Anne is the mother of the Virgin Mary who can be prayed to for all matters love related. "Dear St. Anne, find me a man" goes the rhyming petition. Peek beneath the surface and you find the grandmother spirit, the goddess Ana, the wise crone, sanitised for the conquering religion but still retaining all her power.
In a novena, you petition the saint every day in the hopes that you will obtain your miracle. So I asked St Anne to find me somebody decent, somebody who really wanted to be a husband in the truest sense of the word. After so long resisting and putting up barriers to what I truly wanted, I was willing to acknowledge the innocent desire of my heart that had been so often trampled.
It seems to me that admitting what you really and truly want is the hardest part. Because it makes you feel vulnerable.
Like village grandmothers, the goddess knows us all, as midwife and mother has birthed our souls and bodies onto earth, knows the desires of our heart and what would be for our highest good.
I look at my hand and the daisy engagement ring that adorns it - "I once was poison ivy but now I'm your daisy" sings Taylor Swift, acknowledging the softening power of love in our lives. Daisies in my ears, daisies on my wedding cake. For innocence and renewal, for divination.
After my wedding day I get out my St Anne chaplet that I used two years ago and realise that at one end is the saint medal and the other a daisy bead that I put all my hopes and dreams into. Rose quartz beads for unconditional love. And a wise granny to call every day.
It seems to me that the old charms are the best charms, that old spells still work true.
And for matters of the heart, ask your grandmother!
