Quote by Ellie Lieberman

“You know of a girl and her apple,” The old woman's voice is steady, cutting through the noise. A patient presence that ensnares even the attention of the trees, their branches and thinning leaves stilling as the tongues below them do, too. “Or some version of it. You know of the snake, wise and guiding. The 'me too' and 'I know the way because I've walked the path' in its hiss and slither. But you do not know the tree itself.” And her story begins. You do not know the tree itself, but once you did. Once, all did. Every house had an altar and there the pillar sat. But, by the time the books were written, they found her impossible to erase, so they took her name and called her nothing but an object. It is no accident that the fruit and the snake found home in a tree. Just as it is no accident that the tree becomes a stationary fixture. But, surely, it, too was just as breathing, just as alive. As the old woman in red speaks, the children's very imaginations dance wildly around her blaze, some primal knowing stirring deep within. They meant to bury her, but like most of the stories they tried to eliminate through the permanence of ink and binding of pages, they hadn't realized she became a seed. A dew drop on all of our own spiderwebs, if we care to listen. The more you listen, the more you hear. You see. You feel. And the more you come to know… -Excerpt from “Her True Name: A Story from the Grandmother Tree” – featured in Asherah: Roots of the Mother Tree.”

Quote by Ellie Lieberman