“So do you ever hang out with old people?” These were the first christening words of grandmother and I’s exchange. There is a certain pathway of wisdom, one that begins deep, deep in the immortal depths of the oceans of time. It flows forth from the heavens, mountain springs, and with every heartbeat. The stories of our grandmothers is the resonating voice of the ancient wisdom resounding through timeless bounds.

         “Even at the primal moments of human existence,the sperm fight one another until the end of the beginning. Thus through chaos, perfection is born,” she whispered with a faint, all knowing smile.

        Wisdom has no language, no solid form; it is in the song of the wind in the trees, the ripple of the water and the cracks and grandmothers hands.