Virtual Hekatesion

Mother, I ask for Your protection. I know what time of year it is, what happened at almost this time a year ago. And here I am again... Truth has been spoken in conversations again, and I know it doesn't sit well with her when any unpleasant truth about the bully is revealed. And I know why. I know that she is so insecure about herself that she feels she cannot afford to confront the truth about the bully even being a bully. She thinks she can't handle what would happen if she had to process the harm that the one she is in love with does.  But that means others have to carry the harm. And You know that I have carried that kind of harm all my life, and that all of us should be freed from it. I didn't tell the truth to try to change her mind about anything. I told the truth because I don't deserve to be forced to hide it and carry it inside of me. And yet...I don't feel free. Not even a little. Here I am now, afraid of being punished for that truth. So I ask for Your ...

Mother, thank You for the message in the cards today! I held onto it in my heart, and sometimes reminded myself of it in my thoughts.  Because of the book I'm reading - and I suspect this may be mixed with Your guidance - I think I have a better understanding of why I have to work so hard to accomplish so little in times of great stress and suffering. My society encourages us to look at other people. Which people we want to learn from so we can match their success, which people are causing our problems... always other people. So I learned to try to get other people to change what they do when I don't feel like I have direct control of problems. But what they do isn't really what I want. I want to be reasonably safe. I want to not live in fear. I want to have comfort to keep learning and doing things I love. And maybe I actually prevent some of that, or limit it, by focusing on thinking the only way is to change someone else. Especially since I do my best to protect them in ...

Mother, please tell him I love him. That I will love him through all the forevers.  I want to ask You to tell him I miss him, but... I don't know. I know I miss him. I don't know if I want him to know. I don't want to give him pain. Age gave him pain. I want him to be happy and free forever. Or maybe he's serving You. For him, I guess that would be a different form of happy and free.  It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. And sometimes it seems like even the air won't fill that space. I'm scared to love like that again, and also scared there could never be love like that again. But I just want joy and love for him. The song he most responded to when I played on the stringed instruments...I play it now on the piano. For him. Please, Mother, give him love.

I asked for this.  I asked for her to not be able to ignore the truth, and that means I asked for her to hurt. Or to hurt more. She's been hurting all along.  She eases the pain by blaming it on everyone and everything except the bully. But this can't keep going on, and the only way it will change is when she finally has to take action on the source. So she has to experience the truth. I wish there was another way. I have tried every way I can think of - even the ones I knew wouldn't work, just in case. All I have left is for her to have no choice other than to recognize the truth. That includes recognizing that it's not just happening to her, and that she is contributing to the pain of others by letting things continue. But, Mother, this needs to be the pain of growth. The pain that leads to healthy, effective action. That we can all look back one day and honestly say everything is better after the change.  She's not easy to work with when she's ignoring the tr...

It's no longer just "fear". It's terror, and all that implies.  But I am still thankful, Mother. I am so close to the edge, and so afraid of falling that I'm also afraid that fear will make me fall...but still thankful.  I don't know why I am here. To give thanks, yes. To ask for help? I don't know. Just to be heard? Maybe. But I am here. In all of this, I still turn to You. And in all of this terror, I still give thanks.

Khaire Hekate! Mother, I bring You a poem as a gift. Poetry is a love I made the mistake of letting other people's opinions take from me. Thankfully, I can reclaim it. For months now, the number of poems I have written and am writing continues to grow.  Past, Present, Future all meet here. Neither this, nor that. Between. Liminal space where time sheds meaning. Vulnerability is strength. Embrace yourself. No echoes of the sun. No illusions of light dancing here. Raw power in this darkness. Ancient, naked, honest, and inconquerable. Pour oil, water, wine. Lay out garlic, eggs, bread, cheese. Feast. Whisper your secrets. Truth is prayer. Trust the path you choose. I hesitate to think of my writing as worthy of being called a hymn, but it is. It is a poem written in praise of an Immortal One. As important as it is to be humble, it should only be in healthy ways. I need to work on truly learning that. If my work was not worthy, there would be no reason to offer it to You. Thank You for...