Absolutely*Kate, Hecate, Mistress of the Night

Absolutely*HeKATE – Three Times A Harm?

The Night of Hecate is upon us, and I have invited a dear friend to bless us with her spirited magic and crafty sense of divinity. She is bold, original, and as enchanting as any Goddess ~ please welcome, the amazing Kate Pilarcik, and her mystical scribe, “Three Times A Harm?”


By Absolutely*Kate,
endowed this scribing by goddess inspiration


Open the gate of Hekate . . . stand at the crossroads . . . and do come howl with she and the hunger of hounds this night. It’s Triple*Goddess night. That’s right. It could be a night of underworld fright or a preponderance of further insight to who, what, why you are. Dare you take that chance? Dare you not?

Come. Get thee inside thyself. You’ll see . . . . Perhaps.
Power always tells. So too my spells

Hail Hekate . . . Hecate (the ‘H’ breathes silent – pronounce as: e-ca-ta) . . . Triformus . . . The Triple Goddess . . . Queen of Fates . . . Dark Goddess of the Moon . . . Mistress of the Night . . . Maiden ~ Mother/Midwife ~ Shamaness/Crone . . . ancient genesis femininity of the Holy Trinity . . . patroness of witches/healers . . . all-three-seeing potential anew . . . ruling Heaven, Earth and Underworld too!

True. I hold sway and wonder over where you roam to better know home:
Seeing in all directions, I know at once your whence and chance and swirlcomestance.

Prophecies conjured are to be told. My torch is luminesce at darkside of my moon reflecting what dark periods mere mortals’ lives illuminate.
I am New, Full, Dark. I am lunar in cycle, psyche and spark.
I’ll find you, I will, coming, leaving and conceiving.

Powers? Ah, of the primal. By Zeus and Hades there’s no denial. Lunar fire moons her torch. Immortality is the swish of her serpent. And the trident is sharply complete with midwifery’s knife. She’s very cutting edge, is dear Hekate, revered in cultures and subcultures of the knowing ~ Greeks, Egyptians (so the papyrus tales) and most certainly the Celts. Healing magik will rise one’s resonance you know. But there were those —

Yes, yes, that Queen of Witches rap-a-hag-a-tat-tat.
How they drone of the wicked Crone.
What you take is what you make of it though.
Amazing the realm Christian tradition will symbolize to diabolize.
They vilified so puppets could preserve pulpits.

They blurred me to obscure me.
Power’s a tell I tell you. Power’s hell . . . or heaven incarnate. Perceptions are the spell. It all depends in the end on how you take it in . . . or how it takes you through your journeys.
You’re still with me now, aren’t you? Come. Tis my night!

Rituals through and true await you too. Thirteen herbs, not for beginners are baneful and can be painful, should killing by poison be your brew.

Darken nightshade, foxglove, belladonna oh belladonna, naturally datura and wolfsbane’s reign. Hemlock, mandrake, rue to rue and wild poppy too. Fly agaric, squirm wormwood, hellebore and then there’s yew for you. There’s benefits to be had. Tell them. Tell them. The conjure is not all bad.

She’s right you know. Tonight’s her night you know. But then later, have you a wish, a desire to conspire? Need you money, love, devotion? Assuredly Hekate can ready that potion. Is addiciton your affliction or crave you eloquence, journeys, blessings of protection, psychic flare or wisdom’s refined inner eye?

Aye! Divination, divination . . . lend me your credos.
And passion ~ you forgot to mention Passion. I sizzle there.

Righto. The young laughing Maiden fair. She’s everywhere. Long swish of the cloak, nubile nymph and satin skin trembling to a’beckon. Burning torches scorch sense of night. Scents and sensuality ply anticipation, tantalizing plight. Ripe nipple tendered to savour, I reckon.

You did.

Mais oui et sans regrette. We’ll always have Paris, on that you can bet. But my spiel of your triple splendid spell is the fullness of the frenzy of your night, this night. Are you ready? Will the sacred hounds be fed? Do you know where your dread will head?

That’s not for you to ask Mortal.

But how will you appear tonight? As tarnished Crone on the roam? Will you fly to the moon and stir fertility among the stars?

Never once am I what I was before . . . if I do not chance to be.
Tell me again. Tell me. – How do they call me now?

There is nothing like a dame in triplicate oh Hekate. They say you’re intrinsically ambivalent. You’re mysterious goes polymorphous. Ubiquity becomes you as you sneer the boundary of definition. Then there’s your triple-forming, one body, two bodies, three bodies all back to back. On that they say under the old devil moon and betwixt and between blue skies and sharp eyes you can look at all directions at once from the crossroads.

I taught that to Clapton once. Cast the spell after midnight.

Humour becomes you amongst the abundance you deign to reign. Jokes mid course curses lighten. Sappho the poet described you PC in BC ages old as the handmaiden of Aphrodite, “shining of gold”. In Mozart’s “Magic Flute”, melodically, methodically, you are revered as Queen of the Night. But back in the third century, the text from parchment of one of your more splendid homoerotic love spells hails you as “Mistress Rule of all mankind, all-dreadful one, bursting out of the Earth.” Is to love you . . . to fear you?

Well you’ve done both. What say thee now?

I’d say the goddess lady, lady, lady is a champ.

Then grow along with me. The Truth is yet to be.

Nice try. That was almost ‘besting’ Robert Browning.
I’ve the exact quotation though over my drawing board.

Find ye that coincidence? There hails no such thing earthling. Why were you drawn to particular words to give rise to your fate? Did you respond to what your literate mind read, on Browning, on Shakespeare, on Arthur Conan the Doyle? Or are minds prefed if you honour where magik takes you? Did they? Are there not moments of brilliance which shine beyond the pale? Give thee credit to muse or magik?

I prefer the strength of the reach of more positive affirmations. But they say you ARE the incarnate of stormy weather. They say your darker side aids death. That the evil in your haunts are of the more terrifying clatter.

But why should clatter matter? What do you honour? Following the they-sayers or to thine own self more the true? What speaks forthright for You? Aye. Tell me before I switch once more. And dusk and dark and my dogged hounds’ bark shall approach. The hounds and I will traverse graves this night. That is true. It’s what we do. There are gates to open for some souls dead, cares to carry in refuge to the Underworld or floggings by the Furies. Should dread follow in that wake, who am I or you to credit? Is it that damned and damning ‘They’ once more? A curse to curse, that encore.

If it vexes you so, why do you care? Your powers tumult this way, that way and then the next way. The mere ‘they’ can’t touch you. Is your bewitching a bother?

It’s the little minds. It always has been. History repeats its chime era after error. They feared my powers to the peoples so they distort me dissonant. Trite does not make right — they fear what they do not understand, Overworld, Underworld. Twisted, sad, shunning, mad. Scared little tight little human perceptions. Bah!

But in Rome, they did as the Romans do and worshipped you. Mother Goddess. It’s true. I googled you. You were heaven’s hell with the Hellenistics too. You reigned and poured magic and witchcraft, death and defying, birthing, trying and even re-renewal. You guarded, you cursed. You saw past, present, future. Evil could be stopped. Evil could be conjured. Protection, light, darkness, fright? How do you account for those kind of perceptions . . . chime after chime?

Alas perceptions never arrive on time,
and the world is full of flounderers dying to be free.

Who said that? It sounds familiar. Shakespeare? Sinatra? Surely not Clapton again?

An author lass who is yet more to be.
She shall harbinger well and produce no ship of fools.

You’re her guide?

I’ll guide all who’ll believe. I’m at the door. I AM the door.
I’m transfer and transference and another world more.


As sure as the moon rises, dances, heals and hinders.
What one hears from a guide is what their inner spirit spoke, inside.

Sooo, you are the forerunner of shape-shifters?
… In goddess-speak, I mean.

Women’s prerogative. Contradictions in form.
Whatever it takes to get the job done. Bring the message home.
Consistency, by the way, is a curtain pulled to hide behind.
Highly overated.

By Zeus mounting Olympus!

How high the moon? Yet my altars which alter when alteration finds are of the primal kind. Earth and beneath the earth where seed and fertility grows. Childbirth, crops, a gaining consciousness, death and its re-revelations. Dub that fate?

Or Hekate?

In the wise of the beholder one knows, comes to know or forbids what one fears to know. That outside your ken is already more than you know. Intutitive Wisdom ~ is it out of this world or dark and already deep, deep and feral within? What does light do to dark? Hark the dream, scream the whisper. Let divination become your own pillar to transcend your transitions. The artists, the sailors, the authors, the seers. Aye, all shepherds of souls. They sense, they voyage. They potential immense. But do you embrace inspiration or fear it?
Now that is the question.

Why does such a query make such a difference?

Everything makes a difference. Madness DOES have method to it.
Cauldrons stir o’er the intent of the fire. Powers can passion to poison. Powers can nurture a great deal of one’s heal.
Change through regeneration retains its own appeal. Stir, stir, then stir the more. It takes a dark cauldron to envision right light.

Sooo, Maiden, Midwife and Crone three, are you that omnipresence to watch over me?
From birth through death and knowledge to keep change alive by going deep?

Gateways and Doorways become me.
Abundance is how one purifies what Change is to become them.
Your mysteries are your treasures, be they dark, be they deep.
Bring your soul to your dreams . . . and Listen, Awaken, Sleep.


Wait! Where are you going??? HEKATE!?

S-T-I-R-R-I-N-G }

It was said across many lands that dusk suppers were tendered on stoops as steps to protect those knowing, within. Hekate and her prowling howling hounds fed upon honey cakes and mushrooms, fireside leftovers, then bestowed blessings back. Initiates were guided to their next realm. Some they say were witches. Some they say inspired.

Come 30 November, The Day of Hekate will meet you ~ at the Crossroads.

(c) 16 November, 2010 ~ The Night of HekateAuthor ~ Absolutely*Kate… soul inspired

Visit her blog: AT THE BIJOU

17 thoughts on “Absolutely*HeKATE – Three Times A Harm?”

  1. Well then Cowboy Surfer Harry, it worked. You just came and sat a spell!Spirited appreci'kation backatcha for likin' my flair Har and Ms Lydia, for grooving to the lore. Fascination, as I've found it ~ is e'er the best reward.~ Absolutely*Kate,inspired or channeled by Hekate('cause Erin asked for *majik*)


  2. I am completely ignorant to all of this witchery. Of spells and herbs and moons and potions I know nothing. Still, while I haven't a clue what it is you've just told me, I always appreciate the flair you send up in the telling!


  3. I heard the hounds howl … HEKATE was on the conjure for true *majik* this night … for two of the psyche-soul sisters which have better spiffed spirits are prowling at Erin's new black magic site. Outtasite! My heart sighs in a scream.Carrie and Jodi I bow to your Underworld eminence and ask the Furies to do a flyby 'round your writing cauldrons. *thankyou* (humbly) ~ Absolutely K*te


  4. Dear Jeanette ~ Erin and I are Gemini spirits who hear voices and indeed heed. This tale was how Hekate wanted me to spiel her spell. The cunning Cole knew I had it in me. Thank*you both. Erin's stunning sight truly is "that new black magic".~ Absolutely*Kate, goddess inspired this night


  5. From the terror-talents of a crime thriller Russian mob mind-manipulator author, that's one seriously wild shit good-stuff of a compliment Sean. Hectate will spare your worthy Celtic dwelling this night from the Furies.And me? I'll try to forgive you for what you did to my Steelers' plight. THANKS! ~ Absolutely*Kate


  6. AND HEKATE SMILES KNOWINGLY, the sensuous maiden rebirthing her goddess crone ~ "Well, well, well, the stars have come out of the firmament on my day of night." Tis potent PAUL BRAZILL I *clink* a much more swilling tankard to ~ "Na zdrovie chum" at all YOUR haunts!Aye and the mighty pen has leaked a welcome spurt from CHRIS ALLINOTTE, a knowing sort who dabbles in much more than *majik*. The spirit knows. It shows. "Merci beaucoup bon homme"Sister! Sisters! Why tis none other, poppin' fresh outta the coven than nifty NICOLE HADAWAY ~ legend of lore in her own wild dances under the darkside of any moon. Blessed be thee too, both Nicole and the cool Cole. You know witch way to groove, you do.***And in a puff and a swirl, she was off and out and away to three ways greet her night***~ Dark Goddess of the Moon,~ Hekate


  7. You are most welcome enigmatically elegant Erin. My thanks for the pleasure to be called on from your splendid site's cauldron, to conjure the Dark Goddess of the Moon's truer triple powers. Know thee the spirits of Hekate shall swirl swell 'round your writer's domain come dusk. (Leave honeycakes!)Ask not for whom the hounds howl.They'll howl for your best sellers.~ Humbly, I/she doffs our mystique~ Absolutely*Kate … scribing for Hekate


  8. You rock, A*Kate- you mesmerize and captivate the spirit, the collective of dreams, and weave them into lilting enchantment.Thanks for your splendid scribe!


  9. That was breathless fun – I'm exhausted! (and smiling.)As so often happens, pop culture has cemented an image in my mind – in this case, Neil Gaiman's "Kindly Ones" who serve for Hecate, and I could see them dancing throughout this.You've done them a good turn Kate!


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