Offerings to Hekate
By Ellen Lorenzi-Prince
I am Hers. Hekateís. What this makes me, I canít say. A priestess? Did She have priestesses? How could She when She didnít have temples. She had crossroads. She had thresholds. She had the underworld, the earth and the sky.
And She had ghosts and witches. Iím pretty sure Iím not a ghost.
A witch then.
But not like any other woman of my circle. Some of them do not embrace the word witch. And none of us embrace an exclusive tradition. We are all seekers.
Except Iíve been found.
Itís what I wanted. But I donít know what it means. And I donít have anyone to ask.
My circle mother tells me I can be a priestess if I want. Officially, not just romantically. She tells me she has been though the year and a day teachings and is ordained. She can introduce me. But a voice inside me whispers ďNo.Ē (Hekate, is that you? Is it?) My spirit is my own. How can I follow anyone elseís program? Or anyone elseís Goddess?
Another voice warns of danger. I donít know what Iím doing. Iím not listening to anybody. Even to those much wiser than I.
I must believe I am listening to Her.