I found out I have Bronchitis yesterday. On a course of antibiotics. Posts will be delayed.
There are many kinds of darkness.
Some must be respected, avoided, acknowledged. Others are meant to heal us. Help us rest. Hibernate. Grow on the inside.
All seeds start in Darkness. Even ours.
We strive to be the creatures of light while being born of Darkness and Blood. We need not be ashamed of it. It is simply where we came from. Not who we are.
As the skies darken we must let go. Let go of all the things you don’t need anymore. Just like the leafy trees. Let go that which cannot be renewed. Pull your resources inward to survive The Long Dark. The Death of who we were. The germination of who we are. Dreams of who we will be.
It is also a time of Ghosts. Old and new ones. Ghosts you didn’t realize were following you. That you didn’t realize you cared so much about. Some you are desperate to be rid of, others you cling to.
This is the time of year I feel most myself. Most in tune with who and what I am. I wonder if Persephone has similar feelings? Does she relish the dark? The return of her Lovers caress? His all encompassing Darkness, and the comfort she finds there?
Hades is not my Lover but my God is similar. He is comfortable in Darkness. Was born into it. Comitted his first Tricks and Crimes in it. He travels through it. Becomes it. Bends it to his will with his masterful hands. I can feel him there the most.
Chthonic Hermes is who comes to me, his touch in the cooling winds, following in the footsteps of Death. The Aftermath of The Wild Hunt. The Wreckage. He walks among it, gathering souls to take Over.
Hail Hermes, my Beloved. Welcome Home.
Orphic Hymn 57 to Chthonian Hermes :
“To Hermes Khthonios (Chthonian, of the Underworld), Fumigation from Storax. Hermes, I call, whom fate decrees to dwell near to Kokytos, the famed stream of Haides, and in necessity’s (Ananke’s) dread path, whose bourn to none that reach it ever permits return. O Bakkheios (Bacchian) Hermes, progeny divine of Dionysos, parent of the vine, and of celestial Aphrodite, Paphian queen, dark-eyelashed Goddess, of a lovely mien: who constant wanderest through the sacred seats where Haides’ dread empress, Persephone, retreats; to wretched souls the leader of the way, when fate decrees, to regions void of day. Thine is the wand which causes sleep to fly, or lulls to slumberous rest the weary eye; for Persephone, through Tartaros dark and wide, gave thee for ever flowing souls to guide. Come, blessed power, the sacrifice attend, and grant thy mystics’ works a happy end.”
Sometimes you don’t really understand the signs, until they hit you in the face. Or the ground liquefies between your feet.
And you can’t believe you’ve been so blind.
All will be well.
I’ve learnt to swim.
“I’m scared,” I whisper to Him in the Storm. We are surrounded by Darkness. I cannot see Him yet. I feel Him though, His warm embrace from behind. The reassurance of His size, the weight of Him. He has black wings. The Man in Black. He presses His lips to my ear, “I am with you always, I never really leave you. We are bound together, you and I, always. Follow me into the Dark. I will show you the way. Trust in me and I will see you through.”
Reach out into the Darkness, I will meet you there.
I didn’t actually look at the time when I grasped frantically for the candles. With shaking hands I cleared away the remnants of the last tealight, lighting the new one as I whisper His name.
Hear me, Hermes! Hear me, my Beloved. Hear my prayer and be with me.
The prayer itself is wordless. It’s really an outpouring of emotion into the void, so to speak. I need Him to feel what I am feeling. I need to feel Him in return. As I sat, chatting with a beloved friend, I would look at the candle from time to time. It helped reduce the panic. Life is heavy right now. The lows are payment for the highs. Or at least the balance to the highs.
I had not intended to keep a candle burning all day but when I discovered the first had burnt out I felt compelled to light another. And so I have all day. Lighting another as soon as one goes out. I always figured I didn’t have time for proper vigils but this impromtu one has proven otherwise. Vigils work perfectly well if you aren’t there every second.
Hail to Hermes. My Beloved God. May He always be remembered. May He always have a spark burning.
I promised Hermes a permanent shrine once we moved. That was in May. I’ve been thinking about it a lot but was, admittedly, procrastinating.
An opportunity to provide a ritual service for Him on behalf of another presented itself. Through that service I aquired this beautiful wooden shrine box in gratitude. I am overwhelmed by this gift.
I finally felt that it was time to light it up. It was a very rough day on every possible level. My Beloved Psychopomp was very close to me today. I felt His warm hands upon my heart.
I sing the praises of my Beloved Hermes. May His name forever be spoken. May His grace touch us all.