Two days ago, I was composing in my head a post about how much good dedicating my August to Hekate was doing for me on a purely practical level. That night, I couldn’t sleep, didn’t sleep until after 9am, and have spent the last two days mired in depression and nastiness.
It’s still been doing me a lot of good. The last two days are serving as a reminder of how bad August usually is. That it’s been only a handful of days this month instead of most days is amazing, especially since this year I’m enduring August without AC in the bedroom.
I’ve mostly been getting to sleep while it’s dark out, and often waking up before noon. I’ve had an improved ability to concentrate on average (depending on the heat index for the day; today was shite). I’ve been able to spend time with friends and keep social appointments. I have yet to have a screaming hissyfit at anyone at all. I remain connected to the world around me, for the most part, instead of having my head in the Underworld.
Which is not to say that things have been all good or anything. I am having most of my usual health problems with the heat, aside from the severe insomnia: loss of appetite and inability to eat leading to low blood sugar, mood swings, edema, aches and pains, random welts showing up on my skin, rashes, dehydration. I’ve been caring for all of those as best I can, trying to stay on top of food, taking long cool baths, drinking as much water as I can make myself drink, painkillers and cortisone creams. And the ongoing life troubles I’m having remain, well, ongoing.
But The Problem of August is better than last year, better than most years I remember. I must be doing something right. I’m still trapped inside it, but it binds less tightly.
Thank you, Hekate.
I’m not writing here about the dreams I have or the insights I receive or my experiences during worship. I sometimes start to, but find, once again, that my worship of Hekate is far more secretive than my worship of Dionysos. The work I do turns out to be intensely private, even when there is nothing specific that ought not be told or even that can’t be adequately communicated. I am reminded, again and again, that Hekate is a goddess of Secrets as well as Mysteries. Hidden things are hers, and therefor many things that are hers remain hidden, even if they are plain to see.