Hermes, the Psychopomp

Spring        Waning Seed Moon

As the pace of physical activity picks up, I find my melancholy of a couple of weeks ago beginning to subside.  It triggered a yearning for a return to full time writing and an investigation into agency and its role in my regression, so it gave me a valuable perspective, one I had lost.

James Hillman says we meet the gods in our pathologies.  Hermes has guided me into the psyche of my past and then, Ariadne-like, also led me back to the present.  Now Brigid inspires me–the garden, the writing.  She is my domestic goddess (and not competitive at all with the fleshly one in my Kate).

I’ll light a candle for her at Beltane, not long from now, and dance around an ash, one that grows tall in our vegetable garden.  When the work moves within me and I follow its rhythm, it is Brigid who holds my hand.