There is no “should.” At least that’s what the more evolved people say.
I opened my journey to Hekate this spring. She came in sweet and promised to be gentle. I knew She goes through our soul’s closets and drags out all of our ghosts. I also knew She turns these ghosts into sledgehammers and shatters what’s left of those soul-closets and it hurts like hell. I’ve seen Her do it to my Votaries (Priest/esses in Training).
I feel like the Bride at the end of Kill Bill Volume 2:
I guess I thought I was immune. I’ve already been through Brigid and Morrigan’s wringers. Maybe Hekate and I could just have a spiritual tea party. Yes, I was naive. Both me and The Bride. (But we both still kick ass!) Anyway, I mentioned my recent Hekate experience on social media and someone responded, “Um….you know that she’s not just a goddess but a Titan, right?”
Um. Yes. I knew that.
I learned a few other things via a tough, Hekatean week. I know it’s sexy for spiritual/metaphysical/occult writers to be beacons of divine inspiration and limitless wisdom. It’s comforting to have people in your life who are always right.
That person isn’t me, unfortunately. But maybe you’ll relate to stories of my recent revelations.
1.) No matter how you meant it, saying “Um….you know that xyz is 123, right?” on social media makes you sound like an asshole.
I’m sure I’ve done that before, so I’m not going to do it again. Sorry to everyone on whose posts I may have done that!
2.) If you write about your journey, someone will think it’s a call for advice. They’ll throw that advice and maybe even throw in an unsolicited Tarot reading, too.
Putting this out there, now: The Morrigan is packed with my personal journey. It is not a call for advice and it’s definitely not a call for an unsolicited Tarot reading. It IS however, a call for people to read it and say, “Fuck. That was me too.” And then we’ll toast our iced teas together and either laugh loudly or cry softly (probably both).
3.) Most people won’t change. Even fewer are going to apologize for the shit they did to you way back when.
This is the big one for me this week. I’m being vague and it’s deliberate. I’m sure the story will eventually make its way into a book, but not the blog.
I realized how much time I’ve been spending waiting for people from my past to realize they did me wrong, and either become the people I’d hoped they become, or at least admit they screwed up. It was a sad realization, but OMG I feel like a weight’s been lifted off my heart.
Some of the apologies I feel like I’ve been owed are never, ever coming.
Most people are the way they are and don’t change. No amount of me wanting them to be someone else is going to make that happen. Let’s say it again for the people who just walked in: Most people won’t change. Even fewer are going to apologize for the shit they did to you way back when.
At the same time, I have seen people grow, demonstrate accountability, and try to make amends. I’ve realized how very special those people are.
4.) Sometimes, it’s really not our fucking fault.
When I left my Coven two years ago, one of my members said, “Starting right now, you’re going to stop blaming yourself for everything.” I didn’t, and stubbornly continued to blame myself for everything that went wrong in that Coven.
This week, I realized why: If I can’t control everything that happened, if I can’t go into the past and undo things that made me or others sad or uncomfortable, at least I can blame myself.
To be fair, I have made plenty of mistakes–both within the Coven and in just wandering through life. But I’m not responsible for everything that has happened to me…or others. It felt frustrating at first. If I won’t blame myself or wait for someone else to come along and accept the blame, what can I do with what happened?
I realized the best I can do is accept. I can accept that the crap thing happened. Then, I can move on.
5.) I love to dance.
I just love to dance and I don’t do it often enough. This week, I took a walk to the river with an old friend and a new one. The new friend began this beautiful impromptu dance routine that was a combination of ballet and pole. “I’m copying your choreography!” I announced and followed her moves, not caring that she was far more advanced than I and that I might even look foolish. It was one of the best moments of my week, just moving to a rhythm someone else could hear.
6.) My musical tastes are New Wave, Motown, Weird Girls Who Play Their Instruments Well, and Beyonce.
I don’t know why, but whenever someone has asked me what kind of music I listen to, I’ve always frozen up. Maybe it’s because musical tastes and interests were a way boys (and later young men) could make me feel small. “You say you like NAME, but you haven’t heard (INSERT TITLE OF OBSCURE BOOTLEG ALBUM HE PROBABLY STOLE FROM HIS EX-GIRLFRIEND)?” >snickers<. I think I believed I had bad taste in music. I almost never even put music on around my husband, just assuming he would hate whatever I played, even when he offered control of the car stereo.
But this week, a colleague (male colleague) asked what music I listen to. I took a breath and said, “New Wave, Motown, Weird Girls Who Play Their Instruments Well (Tori Amos, Elle King, Gin Wigmore, Amanda Palmer), and Beyonce. I then said I’d been listening to a lot of early 90s Madonna this week, even though Bedtime Stories is a direct rip-off of TLC and Salt-n-Pepa, but “Take a Bow” is one of my comfort songs in that I had a tough goodbye this week, and also that it’s one of the most beautiful music videos ever (for the record, I’m not into bull-fighting, but I don’t think this video glorifies the practice. Maybe I’ll write a blog-dissertation on that another day!).
We then started talking more about MoTown and Babyface and other 90s sensations and I realized I actually do know my shit when it comes to music. Even if he didn’t like the same stuff I did, we could talk about what’s good and teach each other some things.
Why did it take me to 37 to figure these out?
I don’t know. I’m just grateful I finally did.
Thank you, Hekate.