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“Eve is a different sort of girl. She tries to make herself fit. She works tirelessly, exhaustingly at it. There certainly is a safety to the prescribed, neat little boxes. But the snake touches an ache that finds healing in every hiss. And when Eve sits at the roots of the tree, they wrapped around her like a mother's hug, welcoming her home, too. She breathes in the mossy bark, the flowers that grow around it, finds comfort in the way the wind whistles through its dancing leaves. In reply she murmurs, not a prayer, but a portrait of the seeds she hides in the depths of her soul. And the tree at the heart of the walled garden called Paradise listens. Sometimes, she thinks, I am not the name he's given me and therefore maybe neither is the grass or that animal in the distance or even the sky. Words become their own walls of sort, especially when everything is made to fit his definition. Eve swears she can feel a rumble from deep within the bark, a bumble bee's hum. If you wish to own something, you give it a name, comes the answer. If you wish to know something, you listen to what it tells you. Yes, the snake hisses. - excerpt from “Her True Name: A Story from the Grandmother Tree” – featured in Asherah: Roots of the Mother Tree.” — Ellie Lieberman