Last night, my amazing circle of women came together to do magic beneath the Full Moon.
When we went out onto the deck to, literally, howl at the moon, something howled back. It came from a long way away, and I'm not sure if it was a dog or a wolf, but whatever it was, it heard us, and answered us, and reminded us that we are not alone. Reminded us that, the moment we turn to the dark, wild, misty side of ourselves, the universe is waiting there to answer us.
And, all day, driving to work, sitting at my computer, loading the dishwasher, I keep remembering that spooky, answering howl coming through the mist, and I smile to myself. I smile the deep, secret smile of a witch.
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 . . . ."