In the silent moments that I try to cover up with music or movies, the spirits await.
When the silence comes once again, I have to face the spirits. The spirits are not only the Gods, and my Beloved Dead, they are also the spirits of torment and anguish and grief. They are the spirits that I attempt to banish with the constant drone of noise I filter through the television screen and the sound system, but because of their very insidious nature it is hard to drown them out for long, especially when I have witching to do.
This month has been one of relative blog silence, due to a number of things, mainly the prescience of a painful experience that eventually came to pass, and my worry and anxiety over my unemployment. In both my worry and grief, there hasn’t been much room for writing, as my concentration always withers in such a heightened state of mental duress.
When the tears wouldn’t come, my body took the toll. I was drained and exhausted to a degree I have haven’t felt since the death of my father. My back ached with grief. It wasn’t a shocking death, I had been staving it off for months, the worry, the anxiety, the knowing, but when it did come it still shook me, the sorrow overcame me and the spirits of grief rode me.
Saying goodbye is difficult, especially when you are saying goodbye to a companion that has been with you for more than half your life. She hasn’t completely left, she is always in my heart, and her ashes are kept by my ancestral altar, soft and gentle Pixie will always be remembered.
In the silent moments I can no longer hear the tickety-tick of her tiny feet on the floors, or her snoring whilst I write and the emptiness in the room overwhelms me. In those moments I stand by the window and burn some incense and candles and perhaps offer her some coffee. Sometimes there are tears and sometimes the sadness just sweeps over my body like a gentle breath. I say goodbye but her soulfulness remains within in my memories.
Tonight I celebrate Deipnon, and with Deipnon I do more witches work. Alongside the honouring of my Beloved dead, I ask for the touch of Hekate Atalos. I have swept through the house, clearing away the clinging grief, I have thrown away the outworn, I have washed my rugs which bled out some of their red, and in the soft moments where the clearing and releasing helps me to come to terms with my loss, I feel Her gentle touch. To Hekate Atalos, I offer lavender and sweet wine, I offer Her my tears and the work of my hands. She is compassion, and tenderness and like the soft scent of lavender, She heals, calms and relieves the pain of grief.