Even Though You Have Broken Your Vows A Thousand Times
Thinking about a get together with some magical women coming up in a few weeks where we'll be discussing, inter alia, our daily practice, I think that the story of my daily practice can be summed up in a poem by Rumi:
Wanderers, worshippers, lovers of leaving! Even though you have broken your vows a thousand times, Come! Yet again, come, come. Ours is not a caravan of despair.
With my Moon in drifty Pisces, my Ascendent in flighty Gemini, and my Moon in lazy Taurus, it's not as if I am ideally aspected for a practice that requires attention, dedication, focus. And, yet, over and over -- often enough to have almost worn a groove in the pine floors of my ritual room -- I lower my old and creaky body to the floor, sit at my low altar, light the candles, light the incense, shake the seed pod rattle. Over and over, until I imagine that they all laugh, as in the LeGuin story, "Oh, it's that one again," I call the Elements, my allies, the 4 Goddesses with whom I work. Over and over, even when it takes long minutes to bring my monkey mind back, back, back, a thousand times, back to the breathing exercises, I remember: Mine is not a caravan of despair.
Do you have a daily practice? What is it? What is it that keeps you coming back? What would get you to return to it?
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 . . . ."