It gets dark earlier and earlier every evening. We're headed, mad dash now, towards the dark. In just five weeks, we'll reach the day of the longest dark. And, how will you spend it? What would you do, if you knew that you had unlimited time in the dark to do it? I've been feeling, ever since Samhein, a much more pronounced thinning of the veil than is normal. I expect it to begin to solidify by Yule. What would you like to do, what do you need to do, before the veil again becomes opaque?
We're headed for the Long Night, when my circle tells stories, sings songs, stays up late, and gets up early to make enough noise to wake the Sun. I treasure that night, spent in the bosom of my circle, spent surrounded by women who help me through the silent dark and into the noisy light. Someday, I am counting on them to make enough noise to wake the ferryman for me, to see me over the River Styx, to watch with me through the longest dark.
Who do you count upon for that? What does the dark hold for you now?
I'm a woman, a Witch, a mother, a grandmother, an eco-feminist, a gardener, a reader, a writer, and a priestess of the Great Mother Earth. Hecate appears in the
Homeric Ode to Demeter, which tells of Hades who caught Persophone
"up reluctant on his golden car and bare her away lamenting. . . . But no one, either of the deathless gods or of mortal men, heard her voice, nor yet the olive-trees bearing rich fruit: only tenderhearted Hecate, bright-coiffed, the daughter of Persaeus, heard the girl from her cave . . . ."