Hekate (from The Goddess Oracle by Amy Sophia Marashinsky) is my guide for December.
For the last couple of months, I have pulled Goddess cards from whichever oracle deck has responded. My request is for a goddess (or multiple) to connect with, to look to, to learn from in order to meet the month’s challenges and continue on my journey. This particular deck is one that I’ve had for a while, but hadn’t (until tonight) responded to my energy.
When Hekate popped out, I saw her and felt a wave of sadness. Part of me, the old me, has to die. I have to let her go. I know this has been coming and not just because of all the times the Death Card has appeared in my personal tarot readings. But I’ve felt the increasing push towards change, towards a crossroads as well.
As a young Gemini, I discovered how to transform my exterior to change what I felt inside. If my heart got broken or something negative happened in my life I changed my hair, my appearance, New clothes, different swagger. I’d delete all my social media, photos, journal entries. A complete data wipe and new image of a better OS went on my metaphorical hard drive. Looking back, this is quite the example of Glamour Magick. But I was doing this all the way back in high school, maybe middle school before I first explored witchcraft. I wasn’t erasing memories per se, because I’m still sentimental and hold onto certain items from people. But anything written or illustrated that cataloged hurt, confrontation, disappointment, whatever, I’d dump it. Even burn it. This ability to manipulate my appearance is also why I enjoy makeup and costumes/cosplay so much. It’s the reason why I can use a photo of my face on social media and still be in the broom closet. That’s me, but not the version of me my family or colleagues see. They don’t know her. They wouldn’t recognize her — me in that form if we passed on the street.
I was watching one of my favorite streamers on Twitch earlier today and as he was playing he mentioned that this was the last month of the decade. For whatever reason, that hadn’t sank in until he mentioned it. I was actually sat at my desk cleaning out and reorganizing my makeup collection (don’t judge me, please.) and when he said it, I froze and thought all the way back to 2009. In the last ten years: Our matriarch died. My mother died. We finally lost the financial battle to save the last home we still owned. A lot of family skeletons came out — some of which I’m still dealing with and processing. The man I had loved for most of my life finally admitted to me that he wasn’t ever going to meet me half way and confessed he hadn’t really ever intended to (still not quite sure I buy that, but who the fuck cares at this point?). Certain people that my family (or myself) helped out of jams didn’t come through when I really needed them. My father, what remains of my family — I’ve been asking to see the truth and it’s been showed to me. But damn, I wasn’t prepared.
Both my father and my last maternal relative have had golden opportunities to change their respective lives this year. I mean, world class medical assistance. Both shit on it and refused to participate. And I’m sitting here watching these two people in their old age continuing to destroy their bodies. I have to make changes within myself. Otherwise, my mildly (at this point, compared to theirs) destructive behaviors will spiral out of control and then my fate in my old age could be being alone, in crisis, possibly on the street.
“The way to choose is to let die. The way to choose is to fly free.”
So yes, this version of me that loved that guy since forever, this version of me that reconnected with my mother and helped her through what would be the last years on this planet — it’s time to release her, to shed this avatar. I am not giving up memories, experience, or knowledge. I am simply releasing everything that is immaterial so that I can evolve into the next version of my self.
And yes, there is a part of me that still doesn’t want to go through this process, to give “her” up, because it believe this will destroy the last emotional connect to those two special people. This rebirth, this new entity I will become won’t have those cords tied to them. In a sense, I will no longer know them. It’s hard to explain. My mother I will always know and love. I will remain connected to her spirit. But my mother as a person, her life on this earth, that part of her — this new version of me won’t be connected to that on a visceral level. It’s like laying in the indentation on the bed of someone you love that you’ve lost. There’s a comfort from being in that space. Maybe you can still smell them or feel them. But then when you have to move on to a new bed, which doesn’t have that indentation — you still have them in your heart, but not as tangibly because your touchstone is gone. Maybe that’s a bit better of a way to describe it. The hurt and upset and trials and tribulations happened to the old me. This new one inherits that knowledge, but without the baggage and trauma of having actually experienced it.
In Amy Marashinsky’s book for The Goddess Oracle, she includes a visualization ritual for each goddess. The one for Hekate includes a part involving winds washing over the participant. It mirrors what I go through when I’m in my car, windows down, late at night. The breeze off the Gulf sweetened with salt caresses my skin and swirls within the cabin of the car. A witchy podcast is usually playing on the stereo. My anger, hurt, grief, discouragement are blown away as I cruise the near empty streets under the moon. That air sign magic.
With death comes renewal.