Resurrection in Madness

The end is just another beginning as we return to life; because really, most of us are just spiritually dead walking around in meat suits. In resurrecting our practice, we are also resurrecting our spiritual selves. I find myself being the 'feast or famine' type and I am sure the deities I work with loathe me for it... but obviously there is something sentimental about me or they would never pay me attention. I bug them so much that eventually they are forced to hear me out or forever be bothered by the adorations and beseeching of a mad woman. As I finish this devotional project, I realize I have nothing more to say. I feel the blank emptiness which comes from intense Zen meditations, the peace and mindfulness associated with completing a service, ritual, or any sacred time spent out of ordinary reality can seem like forever. I have barely been able to complete my homework assignments over the last 13 days; not able to write or read anything not related to Hekatean thought or chthonic practice. My family has become accustomed to my nightly meditations, prayers sent with the burning of incense, and strange, intangible uttering as I pray to Hekate in dead languages. My recitation is taken from the album Tales of Moon Face by Jade Sol Luna, from the track “Welcome to Styx”. As I continue with this practice, I find the words becoming intelligible with heightened meaning (I use his Latin version), giving me strength and courage to face the parts of myself I fear most and in their exposure, burning them up in the light of Lucifera.

We honor you Queen of the black night. Hecate, mother of magic, at moonlit crossroads you befriend the hopeless. Torch held high you walk beside Demeter searching for Persephone. You work from afar; weaving spells of water, earth and sky you catch every eye in a fatal trance. Persian Artemis, invincible huntress, you hold freedom’s key. I honor you Hecate, accept our love and bless us, inspire all in the dark.