Praise to you my mother!
She Who Girds the Sky and Embraces the Earth;
The Sow Who eats her Piglets; Lady of the Stars!
Take me into your embrace, as Heru awakens me.
Make me a star, to dwell in the space between.
I sat, after darkness fell, and drank what would be my third, fourth, and fifth glasses of absinthe. My eyes were closed, and the room was dark save for one small tea light illuminating a Moroccan-style lantern. Aloud, I repeated the hymn above while focusing on images of sunset, light joining darkness, and the King awakening. On the inside of my eyelids swirls of light and darkness danced, sometimes making random shapes and sometimes coalescing into something recognizable.
I breathed deeply, in and out, and listened for something beyond the day-to-day noise that was going on around me – the whir of a ceiling fan, car doors slamming outside, the caterwauling of our elder stateswoman cat (she always seems to know when to comment on something). As each sound intruded, I tried to push it out of my mind and was (mostly) successful.
I don’t know how long it took – maybe half an hour, or maybe half of the night. I know that I took the detritus of the evening to the kitchen, and I know I managed to stumble upstairs and fall into my bed. I know that my dreams were filled with Her, and that I am still trying to work out everything I experienced while sleeping.
I also know that, for one glorious moment, I felt Her arms around me.