In December 2017, I did a secret ritual. One which may have been considered profane. I burned my cord for the Covenant of Hekate. I did not however leave the group, or officially send in my email of resignation until a week ago. I stuck around. I dragged my feet. I kept waiting, and hoping something would change, that I would be proved wrong.
And then I wasn’t.
A certain happening in the group made me question absolutely everything. I cannot have been the only member disturbed by the move, disturbed by the distribution of a “special” title for “special” members that “Hekate” felt needed special recognition- some of those members being simply what I personally felt were teachers pets, the ones that didn’t work against the grain.
Soon after joining, some of the members which I held in high esteem left, or took sabbatical. It made me wonder, but I also just stuck around. I met a good friend through the group, someone I truly respect, and that must probably be the only thing that gave me pause for thought. I don’t have a problem with most of the members, most people have a genuine love and devotion for Hekate, and I respect that. But I personally started feeling more and more distant from the group over time. Anytime certain aspects of Hekate were brought up, they were met with derision- infernal, angry, terrifying aspects were swept under the rug because we were all her sons and daughters, and that face is only shown to those who didn’t understand or who had made her angry.
I had been drawn in by the shiny light of the Sacred Fires, like a moth to a flame, and like a moth I burned in those fires of devotion. But I didn’t come out transformed and renewed, at least not in the way I expected. One night on the night that was reserved for The Rite of Her Sacred Fires, a May Full moon I went to bed a little early too tired to practice the rite, wanting to do it the next day rather. I woke up in the middle of the night, the landlords dogs whom I was looking after for the night were growling, and there was a sound, which I didn’t know was the sound of crowbars breaking open my security door. I messaged The Hedgehog that something was wrong, “Please come now!”
I was attacked in my own home, almost murdered by intruders. My laptop and tablet were stolen, and I had bruises and a shoulder cuff injury which would take weeks to mend. The Hedgehog had scared them off. But I had been screaming, screaming very loud and no one, no neighbour heard me,or if they did, they didn’t care, it wasn’t them. Even if they called the cops, our police force is so inept they would not have done a thing anyway.
I did not partake in the RoHSF the next day- still broken, and half gone from the events of the night before- and I never practiced it again. It just seemed so hollow now. The rite lacked something, and it did not take me deep into the brambles, thorns and wild places that my own Hekataean, Devilish rituals did. From the time of the Goose Moon, I was undergoing some kind of underworld initiation. And it wasn’t pleasant. It was not motherly, and tender, and good. It was brutal, and painful, and literally life threatening. I don’t know how I came out alive from all the events.
There were good times of spiritual devotion and beauty, and acts of witchcraft and sorcery which brought me back to myself, and then there were times when feelings of emptiness, and sorrow, and spiritual stagnation occurred.
Hekate gave me certain tasks and I started drifting, and drifting, and drifting, away from the covenant, a little leftwards, but ever crooked. Of course I had my tasks from the Yaga, and my tasks from Anubis, but I never belonged to any group or coven that claimed devotion to them, it was all just me and Them.
So in December 2017, I secretly burned my cord, after getting feelings, inclinations, messages from Hekate, and then I saw certain things I was not happy with, and a week ago I officially sent in my email stating my wishes to resign, I removed myself from the group, and I have felt the deepest sense of relief and feeling of rightness for my decision.
This has been a strange few weeks for me. I spent a few weeks working on pieces for the Hades Devotional, which may or may not be accepted, but either way I plan on working them into a future project of mine. The time spent on these pieces really brought me back to a place of devotion and spirituality that had been lacking for a long time. They made me look at things with renewed eyes, consumed in a different kind of flame than the RoHSF, one based on my intuitions and understanding of Poison, the Crossroads Goddess, and the retinue of the Underworld.
During this last week I have lost a dog companion whose life was too short. I am still in a state of grief for Delilah’s death, and I don’t think I am ever going to feel at peace with that, despite the fact that she is now buried in her home, because her death was unnecessary, too brutal and too soon. I did offer up my sorrows and tears at Hekate’s altar, I did cry, and scream and beg for some kind of answer. I don’t know if an answer will really come. I know I once believed otherwise, but I don’t believe the gods or all-knowing, or all-pervasive. I don’t believe that everything that happens is in their will, or in their power. They too are part of the web of the fates, events that happen for no rhyme or reason, perhaps simply because one thread weaved here instead of there.
From here I continue with the task Hekate gave me a year and a half ago, following my own path with Her, rather than seeking it elsewhere, taking to heart my own words which I shared on Facebook in August:
Hekate is in the poisonous sap of oleander trees, and the smell of Brugmansia flowers at night as they seduce you in your dreams. She is in the roots of the Hellebore, in the deep dark earth, she is in the lightning in the storms, she is the hope behind every Mandragora and Aconite seed I plant, and the persistence to carry on even though I have failed again and again. She is in the eyes of every dog, and the warning in every growl or snarl. She is standing at the crossroads with a knife in one hand and the poison plants in the other. This is the Hekate I know, and she is not found in the groups and pages. No she is found elsewhere- the distant one, beyond public sight, beyond titles and silly gimmicky courses. Go find her in the wind as it howls through the pine trees, find her on the rooftops howling at the moon, find her in the earth, in the wet, dark soil as you pull up roots of poisonous things, find her in the forbidden places and times where we witches haunt. She is there hidden- distant one.