The Sonnet of my Heart’s insatiable Hunger
Through my years alive, I have been visited by magickal messengers. Today I simply call them the Crones. The first that I remember was an elderly woman that stopped me in the skincare aisle of a health food store, funny enough. She asked me if I had ever spoken to Aphrodite before. I was young, about seventeen. I had not yet found my power fully, but at that time I felt it looming. I was a mere sapling, challenging the Earth and sea with my unknown placement. Searching for a footing in my own dimension and those beyond.
I said no. The elderly woman smiled at me and said “What you need to do then is go home and sit in silence and ask her to speak to you. I think you will be surprised with what she has to say.” I regret to say that I did not listen, although that was the year where I learned what I was capable of. I gave my power no discipline, no structure at all. If I could go back, I wouldn’t change a thing. I do, however, imagine teaching my younger self how to sculpt. How to throw a clay cauldron on a wheel that never stops spinning. Saying that energetic finesse comes through divine surrender. It takes absence of time. It takes presence. It takes work. What I gave magick then, was a bottomless freedom and a total control over me that caused a reaction in nature. I lost the reins and was granted a blooming. Chaos is a point on the spectrum of nature, and all points must be represented in time. Today I light a candle for the hurricanes I have caused.
Years later, when I finally sat down and let Aphrodite in, I swear she asked for my soul. And at first, I felt like giving it to her wouldn’t be so bad. She came to me at a time when I was most vulnerable. Maybe she meant to say that she would look after it for awhile, but not keep it. At the end of my indecisiveness, I kept my soul for my own. For I belong to no one. When I do spirit work or even some deity work today, I meet them all as equals. That is not to say that there is an absence of praise, devotion, or respect. It is to say that these relationships I form are two way streets. The universe and its souls owe you nothing. You must give in order to receive. And so, the only rules I choose to follow, are those put in place with the care of others behind them. I suppose, I follow the Wiccan Rede.
The crone visiting me in my seventeenth year began my journey into the path of goddess work and worship. Since then, others have found me in public and given me direction. It is incredible what a magickal practice can do. We are healers, intuitives, dreamers, and children of the earth. Dual wielding the swords of our highest selves and dancing barefoot in the arms of Source.
Working with Aphrodite is not all sex, love, and beautiful harps being played in the background. She has faults just as we all do. She recognizes all the ways in which you love, and she understands them. Love, like nature has a broad spectrum of points. As the Goddess of love, she represents all points on the spectrum. From lust and dizzying delusion, to purity, truth, and unconditionality. Honoring her is the recognition of beauty in all things and love in all forms. For those with a cinematic eye, it can be incredibly humbling and overwhelming at times. A simple sun ray through curtains can become the sonnet of your heart’s insatiable hunger. A storm becomes your passion or a heartbreak where love is still present. Every flower has a voice. Every touch contains electricity. Longing becomes luscious. Romanticism becomes your temple.
Communicating with her now, I know that she has always been there. A mother, a sister, a guardian. She knows that I am of her, and so I sprinkle cinnamon for her. I keep fresh flowers for her. I rouge my cheeks for her. I collect sea shells and I think of her. I plant myrtle trees because of her. I dissect my love because of her. I float and then I fly, and it all began in silence.
Romance. Forever.
