top of page
Search


As the nights draw in and we begin the journey towards Samhain, I always feel the energy changing.The light fades earlier, the trees begin letting go of what they no longer need, and nature itself seems to be reminding us that there is a time for turning outward and a time for turning inward.

Samhain is a threshold.


The old Celtic festival marked the ending of one season and the beginning of another, and for many modern witches it remains a time to honour our ancestors, remember those who have gone before us, acknowledge endings and spend a little more time with the mysteries we can't necessarily see or explain.

And whenever we start talking about thresholds, crossroads, darkness, spirits and the unseen, one Goddess inevitably comes into the conversation.

Hecate.


Now, before somebody comes running at me waving a history book, let's get something straight.

Hecate isn't a Celtic Goddess and historically she has nothing to do with the original festival of Samhain. Her origins lie in the ancient Greek world.

But, as an eclectic witch I believe we can honour where traditions actually come from while also recognising when their energies speak beautifully to one another.

And Samhain season feels very Hecate to me.

Because Hecate is a Goddess of the places between.

Between one road and another.

Between what was and what will be.

Between darkness and light.

Between endings and beginnings.

And perhaps most importantly, between the person we have been and the person we are becoming.


So, Who Is Hecate?



Hecate — or Hekate, as her name is also written — is an ancient Goddess whose worship stretches back thousands of years.

Exactly where her worship originated is still debated, but she became an important deity within the ancient Greek world. One of our earliest major written references to her appears in Hesiod's Theogony, from around the 7th century BCE.

And this early Hecate might surprise anyone who has only ever encountered her as the spooky Goddess of witches and ghosts.

Hesiod describes her with enormous respect.

She has influence across earth, sea and sky and is associated with prosperity, victory, good fortune and favour. Zeus himself honours her.

So the idea that Hecate was simply some terrifying evil Goddess lurking around in the dark waiting to frighten people is miles away from the whole story.

Over time, her associations developed and expanded.

She became strongly connected with crossroads, thresholds, doorways, night, spirits, the dead, torches and eventually Magick and witchcraft.

Images of her were sometimes placed at entrances as protective guardians, while shrines and offerings were associated with crossroads.

Later depictions often show her in triple form, looking in three directions.

And I love that symbolism.

Because if you have ever stood at a crossroads in your own life, you'll know that sometimes you need to look in more than one direction before deciding where you're going next.



No, Hecate Isn't Evil


Poor Hecate has had some seriously bad PR.

Mention her name to someone whose only understanding of witchcraft comes from horror films and there is a fair chance they'll imagine something sinister.

Dark Goddess.

Queen of witches.

Ghosts.

The Underworld.

Death.

Night.

Therefore... evil.

But that's an enormous misunderstanding, and underneath it is something humans have been doing for a very long time.

We confuse darkness with evil.

They aren't the same thing.

Night isn't evil.

Death isn't evil.

Grief isn't evil.

Winter isn't evil.

Our shadow isn't evil.

There are parts of ourselves that are uncomfortable, wounded, frightened, angry, jealous, ashamed or grieving. Pretending those parts don't exist doesn't make us enlightened. It just means we're very good at shoving things under the spiritual carpet.

Hecate's energy, to me, isn't about worshipping darkness for the sake of darkness.

It's about being willing to carry a light into it.

And that is very different.



Hecate and Persephone — The Woman With the Torch

There are many versions and retellings of the story of Persephone, and one in particular has always spoken very deeply to me.

In the ancient story, Persephone is taken into the Underworld by Hades and her mother, Demeter, is devastated. She searches desperately for her daughter, while the earth begins to suffer alongside her.

Hecate had heard Persephone's cries.

In the earliest surviving version, Hecate joins Demeter in her search, carrying her torches, and later becomes Persephone's companion.

But there is another retelling of the story that I particularly love.

In this version, Hecate does what Hecate does best. She goes into the darkness.

Torch in hand, she descends into the Underworld to find Persephone.

She doesn't stand at the entrance calling into the dark.

She goes down.

She finds Persephone and bargains with Hades for her release. Because Persephone has eaten the seeds of the pomegranate, she cannot leave the Underworld forever. An agreement is reached that she will spend part of each year below with Hades and part of the year above with her mother.

And when the time comes for Persephone to return?

Hecate lights the way.

She raises her torch and leads Persephone out of the darkness and back towards the earth.

And with Persephone's return comes spring.

The earth wakes.

Green shoots push through the soil.

Flowers return.

Life begins again.

Then, when the wheel turns and Persephone must make her journey back to the Underworld, Hecate knows that road too.

I know this isn't the earliest version of the myth, but there is something in this retelling that I find incredibly powerful.

Because Hecate isn't frightened of the Underworld.

She knows that sometimes we have to descend.

Sometimes there are things waiting in our own darkness that need to be seen, understood or healed.

And she will take her torch and walk down there with us.

But this is the important bit.

She doesn't leave us there.

The same Goddess who carries the torch into the darkness carries it on the journey back towards the light.

And I think that's something we sometimes forget when we talk about shadow work.

The purpose isn't to live in the shadows.

It's to find what needs healing, tend to it, learn from it — and then come home.

Just as Hecate leads Persephone back towards the earth and the returning spring, she reminds us that however long our personal winter has been, there can be a spring waiting for us too.

Because Hecate knows the road into the darkness.

But more importantly...

she knows the road back.



Sometimes the Torch Shows You What You Don't Want to See


This is where Hecate becomes much more than an interesting Goddess from an ancient mythology book.

Her story becomes something we can recognise in ourselves.

Most of us will experience our own Underworld at some point.

Not a literal place beneath the earth, obviously, but those periods when life becomes difficult and we are forced inward.

Grief.

Heartbreak.

Change.

Loss.

Fear.

Trauma.

Menopause.

Children leaving home.

Relationships ending.

Friendships changing.

Jobs disappearing.

Getting older.

Realising that something we once desperately wanted isn't actually what we want anymore.

Sometimes we willingly enter those places because we know there is healing to be done.

Sometimes life gives us a bloody great shove.

And this is where I think Hecate's torch becomes such a beautiful symbol.

Because sometimes we ask for guidance expecting a great big illuminated EXIT sign.

Instead, Hecate turns the torch around and shines it on the thing we've spent years avoiding.

"Oh. That."

Yes, love.

That.

That wound.

That fear.

That belief about yourself you've carried since childhood.

That relationship you know isn't right.

That habit that once protected you but now keeps you small.

That anger you keep pretending isn't there.

That version of yourself you have outgrown.

This isn't punishment.

It is illumination.

You can't heal something you refuse to see.



But She Doesn't Leave You There


This is perhaps the part of Hecate's energy I love most.

She isn't simply a Goddess who leads us down into our shadows and leaves us rummaging around in them forever.

There has to be a journey back.

Persephone returns.

Changed, certainly.

You don't visit the Underworld and come back exactly the same person.

But she returns.

And Hecate accompanies her.

That's important.

Because shadow work isn't supposed to become another stick we beat ourselves with.

We don't have to spend our entire spiritual lives digging around looking for another bit of ourselves that needs fixing.

Sometimes you've done enough.

Sometimes you've learned the lesson.

Sometimes the door needs closing.

Sometimes Hecate's torch isn't illuminating another wound.

It's showing you the bloody way out.

And perhaps that is one of the greatest lessons she can teach us:

Knowing when to descend is wisdom.Knowing when to come back into the light is wisdom too.



Hecate at the Crossroads

Crossroads were sacred places associated with Hecate, and spiritually I think they remain one of the easiest ways to understand her.

A crossroads is a place of choice.

You cannot keep travelling every road.

Eventually you have to choose.

And choices nearly always involve a little death.

Choose one life and another possible life disappears.

Say yes to something and you may have to say no to something else.

Leave something behind and there will often be grief, even when leaving is absolutely the right thing to do.

Hecate doesn't necessarily choose the road for you.

I don't personally believe working with deity means handing over responsibility for our lives and waiting for instructions.

I think she holds the torch while we choose.

And sometimes that is much more powerful.



Working With Hecate


If you feel drawn towards Hecate, the first thing I'd suggest is wonderfully unexciting:

Learn about her.

Before rushing out to buy statues, special candles and half the witchcraft section of Etsy, spend some time getting to know who she actually is.

Read her myths.

Learn about her history.

Sit with her symbolism.

Notice what draws you towards her.

You don't have to declare yourself a devotee because you lit one candle on a Tuesday.

Relationships with deity can grow slowly.

You might begin simply by lighting a candle and saying:

Hecate, I would like to know you.

Then listen.

Not necessarily for a booming supernatural voice from the corner of the kitchen. If that happens, fair enough, but I'd probably check where the cat is first.

Listen through reflection.

Through dreams.

Through your own intuition.

Through what repeatedly comes up when you journal or meditate.

And keep your common sense switched on alongside your intuition. The two work perfectly well together.



Symbols and Offerings

Some traditional symbols strongly associated with Hecate include torches, keys, crossroads, doorways and dogs.

The key is particularly beautiful to work with.

A key can represent access, choice, knowledge and initiation.

It can lock something away.

It can release something that has been trapped.

It can close one door and open another.

You might keep a key on your altar during the darker months as a reminder to ask yourself:

What am I ready to close?

What am I ready to unlock?

And what door am I standing in front of because I'm frightened to turn the bloody key?

You can also make simple offerings.

They don't need to be extravagant.

Historically, food offerings were made to Hecate, particularly at the dark Moon/end of the lunar month. Modern practitioners offer all sorts of things, but sincerity and respect matter far more to me than buying something expensive because somebody on social media said Hecate demands it.

An offering can also be an action.

Feed someone.

Give to charity.

Help someone standing at their own crossroads.

Learn something.

Keep a promise to yourself.

Do the healing work you've been avoiding.

Devotion doesn't always have to look like an altar.



Hecate and Samhain


So why work with Hecate around Samhain if she isn't actually a Samhain Goddess?

Because this is a threshold season.

Nature itself is showing us death without pretending death is the end.

Leaves fall.

Plants die back.

Seeds disappear beneath the soil.

The nights grow longer.

Yet underneath all of that apparent death, next year's life is already waiting.

Samhain traditionally marks a turning point into the darker part of the year, and modern Pagan practice often uses this season for remembering our dead and honouring our ancestors.

Hecate's associations with thresholds, spirits, night, torches and transitions make her a powerful Goddess to contemplate at this time.

Not because we need to pretend two different ancient cultures were secretly practising the same religion.

They weren't.

But because spiritual traditions can speak to one another without us muddling their histories together.

At Samhain we stand at the threshold.

And Hecate understands thresholds very well indeed.



A Simple Hecate Ritual for Samhain Season

You don't need anything complicated for this.

You will need:

A candle An old key A piece of paper A pen

Sit somewhere quiet and place the key beside the candle.

Light your candle.

Take a few slow breaths and allow yourself to become still.

Then imagine yourself standing at a crossroads at night.

You don't need to force an elaborate visualisation. Just get a sense of being there.

Now ask yourself:

What have I carried this far that I don't want to carry into the next chapter of my life?

Don't immediately reach for the nice spiritual answer.

Be truthful.

Write whatever comes.

Then ask:

What needs my attention rather than my avoidance?

Write again.

And finally:

What am I ready to move towards?

When you've finished, hold the key in your hand.

Feel its weight.

Think about all the things a key can represent.

Opening.

Closing.

Choice.

Freedom.

Boundaries.

Then say:


Hecate, Torchbearer,Keeper of Keys and Guardian of the Crossroads,stand beside me as I meet what waits within the shadows.

Shine your torch upon what I need to see.Give me courage to face what needs healing,strength to release what is finished and wisdom to recognise the road that is mine.

Help me close the doors whose lessons are completeand give me courage to turn the key when a new door waits before me.

And when my work in the darkness is done,light the path that leads me home.


Then just sit for a while.

No pressure.

No demanding messages from the universe.

No expecting Hecate to send three black dogs, a mysterious key and the number 333 before bedtime.

Just sit.

Listen.

Be.

When you're ready, thank Hecate and extinguish your candle safely.

Keep your key somewhere special throughout the Samhain season.

Let it remind you that you are allowed to change.

You are allowed to leave things behind.

You are allowed to close doors.

And you are allowed to open new ones.



A Samhain Blessing of Hecate

May Hecate meet you gently at the crossroads.

May her torch illuminate what has remained hidden for too long,not to frighten you,but to help you understand it.

May her keys unlock what is ready to be freed and close the doors whose lessons are complete.

May you find courage when the road takes you through darkness,wisdom when the path divides,and trust in yourself when you must choose your own direction.

May your ancestors walk gently beside you through this Samhain season.

May the darkness give you rest.

May the shadows teach you without consuming you.

And when you have travelled far enough into the Underworld of your own soul,may a torch appear in the distance to remind you:

You were never meant to stay there.

Follow the light.

Come back wiser.

Come back stronger.

Come back carrying the pieces of yourself you thought you'd lost.

And above all...

Come back to yourself.

Bright Blessings witches.

May Hecate's torch light your way.

Bex xxx

 
 
 

Hello lovelies,

Here I am, entering the last week of my trip with very mixed emotions.

I’m excited to see my family and friends again, to get back to work (I’m so blessed to love what I do), and of course to return to my beloved boat. But there’s a sadness too—life is simpler here, and having the time and space to really focus on my own healing has been priceless. I even went to look at a sweet little house as a possible home base for next year’s trip.

Next years 'Spiti mou'
Next years 'Spiti mou'

I’ve always loved Greece, but something about this place has truly worked its way under my skin. I honestly can’t imagine a time when I won’t want to return.

Day 19

Gwen and I hosted our final workshop, and what an experience it’s been! Bringing our Lancashire/Celtic Witchcraft to the island has been such a joy. We’ve met amazing, open-hearted women and had so much fun together. I felt a little sad it was over, but also relieved—and proud—that it all went so well.

To celebrate, I treated myself to cake and ice cream before spending a blissful afternoon on the beach with my book, watching two dogs who looked suspiciously like they were on a seaside date, frolicking in the waves.

Later, I met Gwen for a kebab and then we went to a slideshow and talk by American photographer Shelby. Her work documented Butch lesbian life in 1980s San Francisco—beautiful, bold, and risqué. She regaled us with tales of sex clubs and thruples. I thought I’d lived a fairly varied and open-minded life, but compared to Shelby’s adventures, mine suddenly felt quite tame!

Powerful work by artist Shelby Cohen
Powerful work by artist Shelby Cohen

Afterwards, I did something I’ve hardly done this trip—I went “out out.” Still in my beach clothes, with sea-styled hair and not a scrap of makeup, I joined Storm for a couple of margaritas at Las Bonitas while watching a spectacular sunset. Then it was on to meet Gwen and Sue for dancing.

There’s a brilliant DJ here called Floor, who mixes funk, soul, Motown, disco, and even a touch of my beloved Northern Soul. She was playing at Avatara on the seafront, and honestly, dancing to those tunes by the sea was magical. Flip-flops aren’t the best for a Northern Soul slide, but I gave it a go anyway!

Out Out
Out Out

I had a fantastic night, but true to form, I’m still a lightweight—so Gwen and I were back on the patio with a cup of tea just after midnight.

The next morning I felt a little delicate (turns out three margaritas here equal about nine at home!). I skipped yoga, had a lazy start, then went with Anja to see the little house for next year. We spent a lovely afternoon in the village square, As we sat at a little table the Goddess dropped a gift into my lap. I didn't recognise the tree so I used my plant app to identify my gift. Turns out it was an Old World Sycamour tree a symbol of transformation and personal evolution. Anja explained to me that this tree is part of the German version of the Cinderella story and that they symobolise 3 wishes. Needless to say I will be taking my treasure home with me and using it to create some powerful Magick.

By evening I decided the Women’s Festival closing night would probably be a bit too raucous for me. So I curled up in bed at 9 with a herbal tea and The Devil Wears Prada. Bliss.

Now, three weeks in, my anxiety has lifted so much. My connection to the Goddess and my craft feels stronger than ever, Yoga is making my mind and body feel freer and I've added a cup of ceremonial cacao to my morning routine. I’ve also had time to sit with my thoughts and notice the areas that still need healing. There’s a big storm forecast for Friday night, and I fully intend to tap into all that wild Magickal energy to release what no longer serves me.

Thank you, as always, for reading. I don’t know why sharing my thoughts here helps me so much, but it does—so cheers!

Bright Blessings and much love,

Bex x

 
 
 

Hello Lovelies,

This entry covers three days—mostly because Day 16 ended in an afternoon drinking session. These days, I’m such a lightweight that three and a half pints (not enough to make me drunk—I don’t do drunk anymore) was more than enough to keep me from doing anything else. No regrets though—it was a gorgeous afternoon with great company.

Day 17 started early, with just a touch of anxiety. That night, Gwen and I were holding our very first ritual here at the house. We’d invited friends and some women from our workshops, so I wanted everything to be just right. To settle my nerves, I hitchhiked down to Scala, spent time on the beach, had a swim, and treated myself to lunch.

One of the best things I’ll take home with me from this trip is a renewed love of my own company. I enjoy taking myself on dates, having no need to fill the silence, and letting my thoughts—be they good, bad, or downright ridiculous—have space. Turns out, I’m really good company.

Later, I met Gwen for some last-minute supplies, then we headed back to the village to prepare. We cleaned the yard, hung fairy lights, and decorated with bunches of rosemary and lavender kindly given by Anja. She joined us later—absolute legend that she is—bringing a beautiful buffet and even fashioning an incense wafter from her chickens’ feathers.

We built an altar from treasures found on the beach, along the road, and around the house, then washed away the everyday world with showers, shifted into Witch mode, and centered ourselves for what was to come. Gwen went to meet our guests in the village, while I waited at the door with a smudge stick, ready to cleanse away lingering mundane energy.

The ritual itself was powerful, magical, and deeply moving. Our guests stepped into it wholeheartedly, and the blindfolded shadow meditation in the middle stirred tears and bravery alike—especially as many had never taken part in ritual before.

Anja, not one for group activities, served as helper and bouncer. I couldn’t help but laugh at the look on her face when I spontaneously announced that anyone overwhelmed should go to her. I could almost hear her thinking, “But I am German, I don’t do emotional!” Yet last year, in my raw grief, it was her calm, steady presence that made me feel safe. So there was method in my madness.

It was, without doubt, the best evening I’ve had here. Even the wind, forecast at 31kph, dropped and stilled for the entire ritual. Gwen and I had never done ritual together before, but it felt effortless, like we’d been practicing side by side for years. Everything flowed. We worked with Hecate, whose presence was undeniable, and cacao opened our hearts as the magick took my breath away.

With my Witch Sister Gwen
With my Witch Sister Gwen

Afterward we shared wine, conversation, and fellowship long into the night. Goddess is good.

The next morning I woke a little tired but glowing. After breakfast I hitchhiked into Scala for our third workshop. Another wonderful session—this one on shadow work and inner child healing. Our group wrote letters to their younger selves and crafted healing poppets, and it was deeply moving. I felt strongly compelled to bring some of what we do at home here to Scala Eressos. Last year I attended workshops myself and noticed how much trauma and healing so many women carry with them here. At The Witches Hat, La and I believe those who come to our door are guided there. So I came here with the same trust: that the right women would find us. And they have. I’m proud of what we’ve created and how well it travels.

Afterwards, I headed to the beach, soaking up the sun with my head tucked under the boardwalk—until someone spilled a drink above me and I ended up wearing it (Bacardi and Coke, I think). I cleaned myself up, only to have mop water and bleach rain down next. That called for a swim to wash it all off.

The day improved though. I wandered to a group painting event (surprisingly impressive results) and attempted to see an exhibition of 70s–80s Butch photography by Shelby, a fascinating American woman from one of our workshops. I got the venue right but the day wrong—typical me. That’s Friday. So instead, I took myself to dinner and watched the sunset. The fasoulakia was the best I’ve had since the 1980s, when I first lived in Greece. I ended the day with a deep sense of contentment.

I’m surrounded here by incredible queer women, yet I feel no pull toward romance or dating. I’ve promised myself never again to love someone more than I love myself or to let their needs take precedence over mine. Right now, I’m happy being solo, doing the work. Watching the dramas unfold among regular visitors is enough to remind me why.

I’m now two-thirds into this trip. I miss my family, my shop, my boat—but I’m happy here. Still, it’s hard not to see the rising tide of hate and far-right rhetoric back home. The recent march in London filled me with sadness and shame. I read about the killing of a man whose views I opposed completely, but violence against him is not justified. To watch people cheer while a billionaire immigrant from South Africa incited violence—gathered by a man with a history of stalking, fraud, and violence—was sickening. Is this really who people look up to?

I see crowds shouting about Christian values—many of whom probably only set foot in a church for weddings and funerals. Do they realise Christianity came to Britain on boats, born from the teachings of a brown-skinned Middle Eastern prophet who preached love, compassion, and hospitality for strangers? His golden rule was to treat others as you wish to be treated. If only they lived by that, they wouldn’t be vandalising roundabouts or screaming outside hotels.

The truth is, the only minority we should fear is the billionaires and the 1%—those who fund politicians, profit from wars, and use divide-and-conquer tactics to set us against each other. Ordinary people suffer while the rich laugh all the way to the bank.

Open your eyes. Research. Question. Fear feeds the machine, but love rebuilds communities. Hatred drains us, but solidarity strengthens us.

I won’t lie—I’m scared of what I’m coming home to. History tells me that when they come for immigrants, they soon come for the gays. I don’t want to live in fear, but I know what’s coming. Still, I will not hide. I will return home ready to fight—for love, compassion, and truth. And I trust that when they come for me as a queer woman, someone will fight for me too.

Rant over. Time to head to the beach.

Thank you for reading.

Much love and bright blessings,

Bex xx

 
 
 
bottom of page