Posts Tagged deity

A Sudden Sense of Liberty

A while ago, I was seeking an image, for a deity who had been poking me. Nothing seemed to ‘click’, until…

I cannot draw well, but this was a start.

Fast-forward to yesterday. Through lots of upheaval and a near-cancellation, I sat to have the final version tattooed onto my wrist, by Saz from Human Canvas.

As I sat down, I heard the overhead music, and said deity singing along gently as they watched us, as the ink was drilled into me with a feeling like burning…

And I’ve been reminded of some fun with Photoshop that happened a while ago:

We discussed synchronicity as I was inked. This has absolutely been a journey of listening and moving forward. And I know that I’m not done yet.

Sharing just as much as I want to right now. But this is how my process works – inspiration, awareness and action.

Step, step, step.

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Living Magic

I promised that I’d write about my Samhain ritual this year. It began with my last blog post here, actually, where I was pondering exactly what I’d do. Some planning began, but largely I let things happen as they would. Which led to interesting results.

Several days after writing that, I was very ill indeed. My depression attacked with full force. Medical professionals were called (and were helpful, insomuch as they could be), I battled hard to get through. And I did, for here I am.

Right in the middle of all that was the weekend before Samhain. Most people seemed to be celebrating it then, for some reason, and several journalists called to ask for chats. Honestly, this was the last thing that I wanted. But game face went on, and it was on the telephone at least. Chatting to many people from the comfort of my sofa. I could do that.

The usual questions came. ‘How did you become a Druid?’ ‘What does Halloween mean for you?’ ‘How will you be celebrating?’

The Sunday morning DJ was lovely. I was there on the phone, with a pagan friend present in the studio, and the host clearly wanted our discussion to go on for longer. The fascination in her voice was clear – she genuinely did want to know more.

I felt myself smile. I opened up, shared anecdotes of Samhains past, tried to convey some of the sense of magic that I’ve always felt at this time of year.

(I just typed ‘magic’ as ‘majic’. I kind of prefer that :D)

I spoke of how we feel the presence of our ancestors at this time of year, but not at all in a scary way. These are our family, from those we knew who’ve passed recently to relative strangers only met in ritual. But those who are there care for us enough to come along, to see how we’re doing and share some time.

I felt my spirits begin to lift.

The day came. My husband was at work on night-shifts on Samhain Eve and Samhain itself, so he spent the day asleep before heading out. I was mostly on my own, or with the dogs and cats.

I woke up feeling terrible. The black dog was gnawing at my mind, questioning everything that I had thought to do. Could I even do this at all? Who was I to share thoughts on this when I couldn’t even sort myself out? The movie ‘Practical Magic’ was on – I felt like one of the leading witches, hiding under her blankets, worn out.

I thought of my ancestors. I didn’t want to let them down – a constant challenge in the back of my mind when I’m unwell. I want to honour them in my life, my work, to do my best.

And the sense of many grandmothers were at my shoulder. Not so much saying ‘You can do this’ as gently, encouraging a child. ‘Come on, you can do it. Let’s take the dogs out. Get yourself dressed, nice and warm. Remember hat and gloves!’

I wrapped up safely and walked out into the day. The darkness receded, as my ancestors walked with me. My eyes opened and my spirit too, as I truly felt the connection to the simple, everyday places that are my hilltop home.

I was reminded of the myth of the Cailleach in the light touch of frost on my cheek. It would get a lot colder, but for now I had a beautiful blue sky, sunlight occasionally peeping from behind white clouds, and crisp grass under my feet. Golden leaves surrounded us as the pups played. I looked out and saw the mist over the houses below. Always strange to be ‘above’ that, being so high up, especially when so much of my life was spent a mile or two from the south coast.

I felt my heart lift, and the depression stayed away. I kept seeing and hearing the same phrases around me – to see clearly, to see through the dark. I kept my eyes open, and my thoughts.

And sometimes, when what could be considered an ‘omen’ or synchronicity just whaps you in the face, you can’t ignore it. I realized that I had to see clearly that day – I had an opticians appointment at lunchtime!

The high street was full of seasonal decorations. I sat in the waiting area next to a beautiful little witch with a bag shaped like a cat. I listened to those around me talk and laugh about the things they’d seen (Spiderman had come into the shop ahead of me, to get his glasses fixed after he sat on them). Everyone was in a tangibly festival mood.

Not only was the eye test fine, but my eyes had actually improved. I could see more clearly. I need to change my reading glasses, but I could see more without them. I tried not to laugh.

All day, the mix of the mundane and the magical swirled around me. I never felt alone or overwhelmed. I wasn’t sure how to prepare for the evening, though – what ritual to do. Hmm. Continue to let it come naturally?

Himself and I had a brief hour together before he left, and we saw the children on the street enjoying their monstering. Many houses were having parties, as it’s a school holiday week, and the parents were getting involved as well. The air was filled with subtle lights and woodsmoke.

I had spent much of the day baking – something I’d been unable to do before, due to mood and lack of energy. Now the house smelt of pumpkin cookies and cake.

I sat with my tea after the last small zombie had left. What to do, what to do…

And I walked the house. I started looking out over the garden, at first seeing nothing but the darkness… and then the reflected lights causing shapes to dance in the windows. The kitchen was still warm. The candles I had lit in the living room flickered, reflecting in the mirror.

The spirits of the house were there. The ancestors were there. Not just that evening, but always, should we choose to recognise or call upon them.

The lesson of the day truly was to ‘see’ – clearly and deeply. To cut through the dark, to look over the mists, to see shapes in the negative spaces. This wasn’t about casting a circle or formal words. This was about everyday practice, real and lived. Talismans, incense and special clothing may help, but I carry the magic within me, in every breath. In the words and feelings that I share. In my open heart.

I do my best. I live my practice, and my truth. Sometimes the darkness rises to overwhelm me, but I know it. I know that it can be beaten back or overcome.

I hold on to my faith – in my Self, in my ancestors, in my Gods (who were absolutely looking on and laughing as I came to each realization through the day). I share my stories, and smile as I hear the tales of others. We all move forward into the winter together, and we keep each other’s light burning to help guide us all.

What are we doing? Whatever we can.

***

A small addendum. As we enter the ‘quiet’ months, I’m working more from home, but am still definitely here. I have a Patreon, which very much keeps me going when I’m not out and about ‘doing’ a lot – there will be more stories on there every week (as well as other unique creations!), as a thankyou to those who support me. Please do join in if you’re able, as every little really does help ($1 = 60p approximately!).

Samhain blessings, my friends xx

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Creativity and Mysticism

One of the things I love about my own path is that I cannot help exploring new ‘branches’. Key words or topics snag in my head and I have to follow where they lead – or they stick around, niggling me until I pay them appropriate attention! This is where most blog posts come from too, by the way. It’s why I’m sitting here right now.

One big example of this is my next book, the foundation of which has been around for a while. I want to look at connection to the wider world, the greater forces that we are intrinsically part of, and those which we choose to join with – or which choose us, if you prefer.

(Amusingly, as I typed that, my laptop let me know that my Wifi had dropped and I needed to manually reconnect. Thankyou, Powers that Be!)

Deep relationship with deity has its own word, as a recognised phenomena: Mysticism. Which I see used all the time in the context of anything remotely ‘cosmic’ or New Age, but which has actually been used for centuries in most of the major faiths of our world. When I first began exploring, I discovered a book that I’ve returned to often, as it speaks eloquently of both connection to God and the trials women have had to face in doing so in anything other than a secret manner: ‘Enduring Grace‘, by Carol L. Flinders.

I’m not going into this in too much detail here, as that’s for my book itself. Rather, I want to talk about how I’m working with sacred connection at the moment.

As creativity is so intrinsic to my Druidry, inspiration is a huge part of what fuels my work. I try to listen for interesting perspectives or taps on the shoulder – as I said, those ‘branching paths’ that call me. By this point in life, if I ignore those nudges for the sake of, say, busyness with other things, I should know that a kick in the rear to focus!! will be in my immediate future.

For years, I never thought of myself as a person who was any good with their hands. Now I’m a confirmed Knitter, this makes me smile – the old Goth bookworm working with colours and patterns, textures and shapes, using a skill mostly thought of as for grandmothers… I have no problem with shaking up any stereotypes!

There are patterns used by, I believe, mostly Christian folk to create ‘prayer shawls’ – usually gifts for others in need, but in a regular pattern in order to share spiritual good wishes and physical snuggles. I looked at this idea briefly, and… well… I can see how it works as a meditation, due to its repetitiven nature. But after a couple of rows of that, I was actually quite bored.

(I’m not sure if it’s me that’s just awkward or if I’m hitting on something here. Traditional prayer shawls are dull to me. As are the bland ‘Moon Cookies‘ used in some Wiccan rituals, and even the drone of neo-traditional Pagan chants! Not disparaging these in any way, but I need something more to fire me up and make me feel inspired.)

So I kept exploring. Ravelry is a greater resource for all sorts of pattern ‘recipes’, and my first attempt was a shawl with beautiful flow, cables and colours. Despite my lack of experience with sacred shawls, from the first this one appeared to be for Oshun. She kept appearing around me in pictures, tv shows and books, with the same colours and shapes, so there we were.

This was a ‘test’ case, of sorts, to see how the project evolved from thought to finished item, but once the shawl was complete, I knew it wasn’t for me. So I took it about with me, letting other people take a look and have a feel of its softness. But it still hasn’t found a home. It will one day, I’m certain.

Then I dug a little deeper. Playing with form and function – should this be crisp wool or smooth silk? Is it to hold safe like a hug, or provide shielding and protection? Quite a few interesting results happened, and I was pleased (as were a few recipients!).

Recently, a friend asked for a particular design that I’d worn in the past, but now dedicated to Freya. I hardly had to do anything, as this mostly came together itself! Wool arrived, the design was set, I had the person in my mind. This wasn’t feathers, interestingly, but more flowing shades of gold. I wasn’t quite sure it would work at first, but it has. It’s almost complete, but I’m now looking for some gold beads to finish it off – that seems appropriate.

For myself, as I’ve been exploring for the book, I’ve wanted to get closer to certain deities, as it seems they’ve wanted to get close to me. Dreams have been interesting worlds right now, and I’ve been looking for ways to express those in reality. Traditional colours and shapes (like Freya’s wings) didn’t seem right. Why follow paths already trodden many times? This was to reflect my relationship with Them.

Then once again, things started to come together. A pattern appeared, suitable for the form and purpose that I wanted. Wool was found, which worked together (again, somewhat unexpectedly – put together with a hope and a prayer!). It’s in progress now.

I hadn’t wanted to work on the Freya shawl in recent weeks, as I’ve been having difficulties in myself which I didn’t want to impress into the work. So this alternative seemed natural. It’s keeping me going through the tough times, as is its purpose now and when complete.

These things are literally evolving. Books to do this too – Book 3 seemed to be one thing, and has now combined with other ideas to transform into something at once larger and more focused. When writing fiction, sometimes characters seem to speak up and let me know what they want to do – to hell with my plans! I know for a fact that this isn’t just something that happens to me. This makes me feel very much like a conduit for the creativity itself, to the Awen happening, active and alive.

When making anything, a key focus of the magic is intention. What is your goal? Even if you’re not sure what you’re quite needing to do, you have an idea. Part of the process is giving yourself up to that, letting the evolution happen. For me, this is entirely correct… and definitely shows me how our ancestors believed the Muses guided their hands, pens and brushes.

So this is me exploring. What can I do on any given day, physically and mentally? What do I need to do? Where do those requirements meet? I like to be busy, but also know that I have to rest. This is one way of connecting, focusing with every stitch on the intention in what I’m doing. Not quite sure where the path will lead, but letting my subconscious (and any external messages) guide the way.

Oh, and the deity that I’m working with for me right now… did I forget to mention who it was? That seems appropriate too. But here’s a picture of where it is today.

Shawl

Like my writing, like my relationship with the deity in question, like my life… all a work in progress. And I do my best to keep inspired and enjoy the journey.

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Harvest

Today is Lammas. I’ve written about it in general terms before, so I won’t be going over what it is and how to celebrate – there’s plenty of ways to explore that on this big Internet-place.

This year, I’m truly pondering what Harvest my household is bringing in.

July was virtually barren in this part of the world. No rain at all. Yellowing fields, parched crops, pups who couldn’t understand why there were no daytime walks… and I felt stifled by the heat. It’s very unusual to have such a long period of intense sun here. Our one and only fan broke, and it turned out to be an almost fruitless quest to find another – there were none to be had in the main towns and cities around!

July saw me more or less constantly covered in sweat and with an overheated brain that just wanted to rest.

So when the rains finally came last week, they truly were like a cooling balm. The ground feels ‘well’ again, and activities (for ourselves and the pups) can resume.

This has got me pondering (of course). We are so intrinsically connected to our home habitats. We were forced to realize the effect that such extremes of weather can have. As with people trying and failing to carry on as normal in deep snow, those heading outside without protection found themselves needing medical attention. We have to adjust to our circumstances – which we have, in part, helped to create.

I’ve been doing what I can during the period of Enforced Rest due to Heat. A lot of the time, this has involved siestas, either to read or simply to think and dream. I’ve been listening, prioritising, endeavouring to realign myself with the flow that I need to be in right now. Certain things have become clearer as a result.

I’ve cleared my timetable of some commitments, giving me more time to plan and do. I’m writing more (see?). I’m figuring out where my heart wants me to go, and what I can reasonably do to make this happen.

I’ve found myself working more with deity, especially after a recent trip to Denmark for a beautiful Handfasting. Nothing like talking to Norse folk in their own backyard… and then realizing that as we fly home, so they’re here too, in my own ancestry, my visible DNA.

Doorway

I see so many people trying to work out what they want from the world, and what they can do to achieve it. LGBTQ+ Pride. Protests to express strength and determination. Personal power standing up to create change.

Perhaps, as the cold, long winter forced us to stay inside and share time and stories, so this Summer is pushing us in a similar way. To do what we can. To celebrate who we are, truly. To look around and say Yes! (Or No)

My household has also found itself undertaking a belated ‘Spring Clean’. Tidying, getting rid of what is no longer needed, reworking space and items to better fit. Inevitably, old things are rediscovered. Unwanted items are passed on to those who can use them. Home-space is being reworked in readiness for the time to come.

This is my harvest, as it begins. Working to explore the ideas that have come about over this warm season. Setting space for them. Preparing for the next turn of the year, by focusing on what fuels us and changing our surroundings accordingly. Storing up, ready for winter.

I see the berries on the bushes, appearing early but not quite ready yet. I see many bees and butterflies, busy about their work, transforming themselves and their homes.

I take time as needed. I do what I can. I share with others, for we are all connected. I’m inspired by the land and people around, the ‘vibes’ of the world right now. I stand in hope this Lammas-tide, that we can make our space what we need it to be.

I give thanks for the love of a good home. For laughing company, through thick and thin. For determination and the energy to express it. For connection with those who guide me. For the strength to step back when self-care time is needed.

What is our harvest this year, truly?

Raising a glass to you all, my friends. Thank you for continuing to keep me company in these interesting times. Much love x

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Truths and Apologies

Memes are such a constant background noise these days, aren’t they? Cute little sayings, often with a pretty picture, to provoke or inspire. I once sat in an office with walls covered with ‘motivational posters’.

Sometimes that can be helpful. A quick, easily-digestible sentence or two, summing up a feeling or emotion. Validating something far more complex.

But as I love playing with words, sometimes I dig deeper… and find a less comfortable place.

For example: How are you? I’m fine.

This is a lie. Powerful images demonstrate this here (warning – challenging pictures). Many people don’t want to see. ‘Fine’ is enough.

I’ve not been fine for a while now; or rather, I’ve had good days and bad days. This is normal.

But I’ve not posted for far longer than I’d like, because… well… I’ve been battling. I’m sure many of you know those insidious thoughts. ‘You’re useless. Nobody cares. Nothing you say is worth hearing.’ And that most evil of all: ‘Just stop.’

I’m not alone in this, not by a long shot. I’ve heard tell of several other contemporary writers who have such difficulties – from Scott Lynch to JK Rowling. Much has been written about the creative fire being linked to mental illness (eg this interesting essay).

But worst of all for me is that inner voice telling me how much I let people down. Because of those precursors to memes, the oversimplistic misunderstandings that we’ve been told all our lives. ‘You don’t think that.’ ‘Don’t be stupid.’ ‘You’re always making excuses.’

From frustrated family members to overbearing bosses, we’ve all heard it. Someone doesn’t want to look deeper, or listen to what’s really going on, so they lash out. Hey – we’ve all done it too, I’m sure.

This is part of the journey, however. As we stop – whether voluntarily or forced to by circumstance – so we realize how awful this is. How unhelpful, degrading and, frankly, wrong.

Nobody is worthless. Nobody is useless. Why can’t I do that? Why shouldn’t I? If there’s a reason, then so there is, but more often than not, the person throwing the demands around is projecting, trying to control, to fit you into their world.

And if you challenge those statements? Have you ever tried? I have, a couple of times. The expression on the person’s face (a teacher and a boss, as I recall) was priceless. It’s as if a disobedient pet suddenly spoke back.

We are often taught to keep quiet, for the sake of peace. As we grow older in this crazy world, though, we discover that while quiet can be nice, safe and cosy, it doesn’t necessarily do much to change things that are wrong. We need to speak up, to challenge, to look deeper.

I’ve had to take time in recent months. I’ve had no choice. Panic attacks, severe anxiety, what is now being called ‘major depressive episodes’. Some days, I haven’t trusted myself to put thoughts together enough to write anything.

Today, a dear friend sent me a meme that summed things up nicely, and inspired this post:

Some Days...

And this is true. Some days, more than others.

Then yesterday, another friend reminded me of my favourite phrase for my Druidry: ‘What are you doing?’

Am I trying? Really? OK. Reboot from Start. Let’s challenge those unhelpful voices within.

I’ve been told that before, by doctors, professional therapists and other ‘experts’. It’s not as easy as it sounds.

So how best do I challenge them? The awful things that I tell myself – would I ever say such things to another person? Of course not. But they’ve been said often enough to me, surely I must deserve them. And so I’m dragged along with the flow of negative emotion.

A few nights ago, struck with insomnia, I found myself reading about deities who challenge. And I thought ‘Hey – I’m Pagan. Let’s ask one of those experts.’

So I quietly called upon that deity to help. To see if they’d listen.

And they did.

I sat for a while, pouring it all out, while that person sat quietly, just listening. Giving me their full attention. Understanding, sympathising. Not judging. Seeing deeper than the trite insults and demands, to the effect they had.

And when I was done, they were there with a hug. And so I let myself be held.

I do believe that as Pagans, we are blessed to have such methods to help us. Ancestors, helpful spirits, deities to call on. We are never truly alone, even when it feels like it. The tricky part is remembering that. And as with friends who are there for you, not being afraid to call them up and ask for a chat.

The key here is to speak your truth. Excuses won’t cut it (and are insulting, to them and you). This is the time for soul-truths, deep and painful. To be excised like infection from a wound. A scab can’t heal if it’s just covering a blockage of pus. Yes – that’s unpleasant. So is this process.

So here I am again, asking for your patience as I work things through. The medics are being helpful at least (another huge blessing!), and those of you who’ve offered help are valued more highly than any coin I can think of.

I am trying. I’m always sorry for letting folk down; I take pride in stepping up to keep my promises, and hate it when I can’t. Please know that if I can’t, I really can’t. It’s not an excuse. Those are the worst times.

But the flows rise and fall, and I work with them, as best I can. I battle through the storms and am so glad of the good days, of things I accomplish – even these wee words today. What I once took for granted, I now see as a huge gift. Perhaps that’s the latest lesson to take from this winter season.

Much love, dear ones. I am doing my best, with truth and sincerity. We move into Spring with tiny seeds planted. Gods willing, they will blossom and bring us joy in mind, body and spirit moving foward.

Onward.

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The Sacred and Me

Years ago, I came across a beautiful prayer in a Pagan book (I believe by Francesca de Grandis, but I’ve sadly not been able to find it since).

The prayer thanked the Goddess (if the speaker was female, God if male) by honouring Her/Him in every day life. Something like ‘I walk on Your body, with Your feet, and raise Your hands’…

I love playing with language, and this is just delicious. Boundaries are being pulled down, the binary of Me/You being removed. I am You. Goddess is Me.

It felt like that moment when you fully understand what walking on the body of the Goddess means – if you regard the Earth beneath us (and around us, and above us) as Her form. After contemplating this when first starting out as a baby Pagan, I was actually daunted to even take a single step. But I did, and I moved on. I felt a bit silly for worrying. She caught me, after all. Gravity’s a blessing too, and the Earth is pretty sturdy. Just don’t take it for granted (toddlers know this wisdom well).

Now, I know not everybody works with deity as a male or female form/idea – but many do, as it helps us to personify a very large concept in order to better understand it.

But you don’t have to acknowledge that personification to understand my point here: Your body is deity. Your hands are those of a Goddess or God. Your ideas have value, your words speak sacred truths, your spirit is immortal…

I can almost hear the doubt in you now. But bear with me.

I know we don’t regard ourselves as anything approaching deific, and the ego required to walk that path can perhaps be too monstrous to contemplate. But again, not quite what I mean. This is not about power or ego; this is about the sacred, value and intention.

Consider this idea for a moment. You are sacred. Your every word carries power, your touch is magical, your hugs are a blessing.

Isn’t that true? Even just a little bit? Certainly if you’re a parent to a young child – you are their universe, their guide and guardian. Best Mum/Dad Ever!

So if we walk in this truth, how do we honour ourselves as sacred? Do we dress well, in clothes of quality that suit us, or do we throw on a t-shirt and jeans? Do we nourish ourselves with well-cooked food or grab a pre-packed sandwich? Do we even notice as we clean ourselves in the morning, or just get done what needs to be done before rushing off to the next task?

I’m sure you see where I’m going now. This isn’t intended to be judgmental at all (I do all of those ‘lazy’ things above), but simply ask for consideration.

The intention of my challenge to myself was in the back of my mind as I began my day. I decided to get on with a reluctant job that I’d been putting off, and go through some old clothes (I’ve lost weight lately due to running). And I discovered the sheer value and appreciation of clothes which fit well and serve their purpose – whether that’s decent underwear, a sturdy coat or a fitted top. So many items ended up in the pile for charity because it didn’t fit as I’d physically changed, or – as I realized – it likely never had fit well, not really.

I don’t go clothes shopping for fun. It’s never been easy for me, as I do like things to look good, and am very aware of not fitting into the ‘trendy’ mould that society requires. But this means that sometimes I’ve had to make do. Being happy with how I present myself has had to be sacrificed to what I can afford and making do with the best I can find.

I’ve heard this from friends who are healers. We have to sacrifice decent cleansing and body products for those we can afford, regardless of what they contain. The same with food.

Again – this is not a guilt-trip. As I walk my day today, I am considering. If I am Goddess, how do I honour myself? If I wish to adorn myself, what fabrics, scents and colours do I use? Am I ‘making do’ or putting in effort? How much do I value myself, after all – would I treat friends or family this way?

And while I consider how I represent myself, how do I speak to others as I go about my day? Do I gossip and whinge, or share a smile and a happy story? Do I honestly seek help when needed, or hide in pain? Truth or falsehood, balance and power… inspiration and connection. The old song: What am I doing?

I honour my Goddess in my journey as I explore with good intention. Because by doing so, I am honouring my Self. I must remember, at heart, to care. To love.

I try my best. And I trust Her (Me) to catch me when I fall, and find the strength to try again.

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Mercury Rising

It’s Monday. I made it.

The last week has been horrendous. Hellacious. A battle on every front, during which I could only seem to stand my ground, moving neither forward nor back. “If I can make it to Monday,” I would tell myself, “Then it’ll be ok.” ‘Make it to Monday’ was my mantra.

I’m sure we’ve all had times like this. Periods of difficulty, where each day seems to last at least a year, with so much thrown at us that we feel like simply giving up in the face of the deluge.

I’m no expert in astrology, but we’ve just come out of a period of Mercury retrograde – a time of pause and reflection. Because basically, if you try to do anything… forget it. It is not happening. Stars or not, this sums up the last few weeks. Mercury, God of travel and communication, was going backwards.

No matter what I did, I was stymied. Talks fell through, emails went unanswered (or receiving vague and unhelpful answers at best) – the world seemed to be moving, but just not the part I was in. Writing didn’t flow, any work was a challenge. So many pieces of technology broke or failed; even my shoes fell apart. Sometimes it felt as if I was bashing my head against a wall. What was I supposed to do with my time?! I do like to keep busy; even when relaxing, I like to be doing something, be is reading, knitting… whatever comes to hand. Even these simple activities couldn’t keep my attention.

And then last weekend, my first ever animal friend, who had been in my life since his ‘rescue’ from a local sanctuary, took himself out of the living room window with a brief final look at me… and vanished. He’s been ill for a while, had Harry the geriatric cat – an inoperable ear condition that meant he was fairly deaf (and so wonky enough that he missed when jumping at objects, which confused him no end), losing his sight, with no teeth and all the signs of senility.

He was scared of the mattress, because of how it felt underfoot – but he snuggled into bed with me when I was alone after my divorce. His loud purr from my lap was such a comfort. We’d play ‘licky/kicky’ games together on the stair (he grabbed and kicked at my fingers, I’d tickle his belly).

But now, it seemed, his time was done.

Lovely folk confirmed to me that ‘this is something cats do’ – they take themselves away to find a quiet place, where they won’t be found. In one sense, that hurts; but in another, I understand.

I found myself nodding. Because over these same past few weeks (months?), I’d been thinking the same. When the darkness seemed inescapable, with no way out… I’d considered taking myself away, for the sake of everyone.

Yes, I know – irrational. Depression does that. Things that would seem manageable, easy to deal with when perspective is ‘normal’ can be almost the end of the world when you’re down in the dark. Getting dressed is a challenge; leaving the house akin to scaling Everest. It may not be ‘all about me’, I may be selfish and inconsiderate… but sometimes there just isn’t anything outside your own head. That’s how it can feel. And it’s so very scary.

Last week, it seemed that knock came after knock. If I could just make it through… I kept telling myself, over and over. It wasn’t all about me. But feeling trapped and alone (even if I wasn’t) made it seem so.

I had to trust that Harry had done what he thought best. I had to trust myself, that I had the strength to survive (and that survival was, in fact, the right decision). This, too, will pass.

Mercury was taking me deep.

Years ago, when I first dipped a toe into Paganism, I sat in my bedroom and meditated, nervously asking for any deity who might like to take me on to make themselves known. I was curious, but had no real idea what I was getting into. But I had made my decision, and asked the question. I’m not sure what I expected, but certainly not who arrived.

A beautiful lady with the head of a cat stepped forward, shining and golden. I was taken on, as a kitten perhaps: a trainee priestess of Bast.

I had no idea what I was doing. But I was so staggered at the force of the experience, I resolved to simply (!) do my best.

Over the years since, my Lady has moved more into the background; a constant presence, but letting me learn what I have to. I’ve come to understand the fluidity of Deity, how personification is a human need, but which those forces which guide us can use to help us see what needs to be seen.

I’ve worked closely with other deities since, from Sekhmet to Hekate, Herne and Loki (not all at once!). I’ve learned. But She has been there, to be glimpsed when least expected. In no way separate from my life, but constant, present, in all Her aspects.

Harry was my friend, companion and guardian – but he was always his own person. I’m now in a house full of canines (all male). Life takes us on strange, winding routes.

I’ve made it to Monday. I’ve been reading the tales of others this morning, online and in print, the curling paths of life. Simple actions have taken on the importance of prayer – I’ve made it (this far).

We ebb and flow. Ourselves and those forces that we connect with – the stars, the gods, those living beings we share space with, larger forces of Nature that we are subject to. We touch and part. We learn and teach, inspire and are inspired.

I think back to the past week. To those shining lights which glowed all the more strongly for the hardness that they broke through. A call from a friend; a simple message. A request, a shared thought, a gift. A story can be the most powerful of connections, a smile the greatest achievement. A memory, held close.

Monday morning. The next week stretches ahead. My body is free from pain; my mind free from darkness. I honour what is past, promising not to forget. And step forward.

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