A week ago Friday I posted about Persephone, and becoming my own person. I said I was going to do a ritual to cut myself away from my abusive father, because I was tired of being hurt by him.
I did the ritual on Monday the 13th, the eve of my 26th birthday, the last day of my 26th year on this planet. That morning I’d received a tarot reading from Danny, which was eerily accurate and confirmed a lot of things to me: that I had to cleanse, I had to integrate my shadow self with the rest of me, that I had to find positive models of male energy in order to be more comfortable being male on days when I was, and I had to talk to certain deities, including Manannan. But first, I wanted to ask Persephone for help.
I lit candles to both Persephone and Hades, and poured wine for Them. I lit some Vanilla Rose incense, which is probably going to be Persephone’s incense from now on. I asked Them to look on me kindly, though we didn’t know each other that well, and I asked for Their presence in my life as I tried to rid myself of my father’s 26 years of poison.
I sat before my altar and rambled for thirty minutes, or thereabouts. I just talked to Them. And throughout it all I felt this love, this patience, this smiling benevolence upon me. I said that when the middle candled burned out — the flower in the water — then the flower of his poison would die, and the earth could start to grow healthy stuff again.
I took the glass pomegranate seed that Persephone gave to me at Spring Mysteries Fest and I started playing with it while talking to Her. I said that I thought it had been a symbol of being a better daughter to my mother, but now I realized it was a symbol of my rebirth, my cutting away, my transformation, my becoming my own person. I said I would symbolically eat the pomegranate seed and become someone new, and that my trial would be through fire: I burned away the old thread that was still through the glass bead that had tied it to my necklace before breaking off.
When I looked up, the flower candle had finished burning.
And then I started crying.
“It’s not supposed to hurt,” I said, wiping stinging salt from my eyes. “It’s not supposed to hurt to expel venom from your body, your soul. It’s supposed to feel good to get rid of it. It’s supposed to feel good to get rid of him.”
I knew that wasn’t true, but I still needed to rage against it. I curled up into a ball on the floor in front of my altar and cried and cried and cried.
After a while I rolled onto my back and looked at the ceiling. I stated that he was gone; that he had no more power over me. That I’m 26 — 8, number of the CEO, putting me in charge; that I was starting my 27th year — 9, number of completion, mysticism, and endings. I was done.
And I felt this weight lift off my chest and my heart. I got back up onto my knees and knelt before the altar, and I blew out all the rage and pain inside me. I blew my father right out of my life.
I then thanked Persephone and Hades for Their presence and help and love, promised to do more for Them in the coming months and years, and said I’d leave Their candles burning and wine sitting till the end of the night.
Then I went outside and laid down on the grass for a while, looking at the stars and the space between. I could see, in the darkness, endless light, and darkness in the stars themselves. I could see eternity stretching on forever. I could see The Deep One, and the Smith.
And I knew I would be okay.