Not To Be...Forgotten

Merry Meet Once Again, Family and Friends!

So, I must admit, that I've been laying back quite a bit lately.  What I mean is, I've been more focused on those things that are most important and enjoyable.  Spending time with my family and friends, reading, practicing, dancing, catching up on Facebook.  I have found myself taking time just being thankful for my blessings and to take life a little less seriously.  This is not necessarily a bad thing at all, as it has given me the opportunity to reconnect with the those people and parts of myself that are really important.

I was walking by my altar before work yesterday morning and realized that there was one thing I had forgotten to do.  It had been quite a while since I'd honored my patroness, Hecate.  I usually make it a point of leaving fresh flowers, wine or mead and candles as a sign of my devotion to her.  The last wine I'd left had almost run dry and I made a mental note to remedy this as soon as possible.

I have personally found that Hecate is not the type of Deity that one works with casually.  She doesn't seem to appreciate an "as needed" relationship.  I don't merely work with Hecate, I am oathbound by blood to her.  My own. 

Last night after dinner, as I sat by the fireplace reading, I remembered my promise to her from that morning.  I stopped what I was doing and headed upstairs to retrieve my altar chalice.  On the way however, I was distracted by a conversation with my son and afterward couldn't remember, for the life of me, what it was that I had gotten up to do!  Don't ya just hate that!!!  "What was it I was doing?", I asked myself.  I knew it was something important, but I couldn't remember what.  Then it hit me!  "Holy crap!", feeling guilty that I'd forgotten.  "She is not going to be happy!"

I rushed upstairs to get the chalice and then went out onto our deck to spill what remained of the wine back to the Earth.  "A Gift for a Gift".  Just as I leaned over the deck, I caught the leg of my pants on the branch of a climbing wild rose bush.  The sharp thorn pierced the fabric, tearing my flesh!  My first words (no they didn't begin with "Mother") were, "Yeah, I get it!", acknowledging that there is and always will be, a price to pay for her Wisdom, and that she generously shares her blessings with those who honor her.

I went back into the house and looked down to see a rich crimson stain was now seeping through my pant leg. I lifted the fabric to survey the damage and found that blood was now trickling down my leg and onto my freshly scrubbed kitchen floor!!! I guessed I'd probably survive and rather than let this distract me from the task at hand, I began filling the chalice with red wine.  I whispered my words of heartfelt gratitude, held the cup against my bare skin, then watched as my own life's blood mixed with my offering to the Dark Mother.  "A Gift for a Gift".

In Darkness, Light!



Tracy