Hecate whose name is howled by night at the city crossroads

“Aeneid”, Virgil

O Lord Helios and Sacred Fire

The spear of Hekate of the Crossroads

Which she bears as as she travels Olympus

And dwells in the triple ways of the holy land

She who is crowned with oak leaves

And the coils of wild serpents

fragment from “The Root Cutters”, Sophocles

Enodia means “of the ways” or “of the crossroads”, and it is one of the most familiar epithets belonging to Hekate. Hekate is a liminal goddess, traversing the realms of the universe and guarding the boundaries that separate these realms as well as boundaries that are nature, human, and spirit made.

The crossroads are both literal and metaphorical places. Actual crossroads are liminal places where two or three roads converge, and it is where Deipnon offerings are traditionally left on the night of the Dark Moon. The “restless dead” are said to inhabit the crossroads; they are the souls of the dead who had difficulties crossing over after they passed from the world. Hekate, as pyschopomp, assists in guiding these souls and the Deipnon offerings are meant for them.

Metaphorical crossroads are where one finds themselves when experiencing a major life change, or where one is facing a very difficult decision and the way forward isn’t always clear. Hekate is called upon as a companion on this path, offering Her assistance to help guide one forward towards the unknown.

I would like to share a story from years ago when I was a teenager, on a night out with my friends on a very auspicious date. Looking back, I believe this was the night Hekate claimed me as Hers, though I didn’t realize it at that time.

The Search

It was November 13, 1992. Friday the 13th. I was 16 years old. I got together with a small group of friends from work and we set out on a quest to find “Mary’s Grave” – a legend in our neck of the woods on Long Island. The site we were seeking was in Stony Brook, and it was said to be the location where Mary was murdered for being a witch (another version had her being murdered because she killed her father). We didn’t really have much to go on location-wise; it was a time before the internet and GPS existed and we relied on word of mouth from other people and had directions that were written down on a piece of paper.

I was the last to be picked up. The friend who was driving was a couple of years older than me, and she was a seer who could speak to the dead. Everyone at work knew about it and I found it to be fascinating. When I got in the car, “Crazy Train” from Ozzy Osbourne had just begun playing on the radio and it seemed to set the mood for the evening: exciting, a little scary – a journey into the unknown, full of possibilities. Every time I hear that song, it brings me back to that night.

We made our way to the area of Stony Brook, and found the spot where we were instructed to park. We parked the car, and set out on foot into the night. It was a little spooky – we were at the end of a narrow road, surrounded by the woods. It was not long after Halloween and just a few days after the Full Moon. There was a damp chill in the air that also resulted in a bit of a mist. The trees had lost most of their leaves by now and the bright moonlight cast shadows everywhere.

We walked for what seemed like forever until we came upon an open field. We weren’t sure we were in the right place, but everything felt “electrified”. I don’t know how else to describe it, but it felt like a place of power. Someone in our group became spooked by the sudden call of an owl out of complete silence, and she screamed. We all turned around and ran back to the car and quickly drove away.

Enodia

For some reason, we were lost and didn’t know where to go. We went back the way we came, but somehow the road we were traveling on was completely unfamiliar to us. Eventually we came to a crossroads, where the road split into two. We did not know which road to take and the friend who was driving became panicked. Suddenly, a white wolf with glowing red eyes appeared at the center of the crossroads, and the wolf was facing the road that veered off to the right. I told my friend to turn right, and she did.

It turned out that the road to the right was the path we needed to take and we were soon in familiar territory. My friend asked me how I knew which way to go, and I remember saying (paraphrasing, because I don’t remember my exact words) “didn’t you see the wolf in the middle of the road”? She said no and sounded a little shaky. No one else in the car, save myself, saw this beautiful white wolf with the red eyes. This creature in-between disappeared almost as quickly as it appeared. There were a few weird moments following me sharing what I saw, but it was soon forgotten once everyone else was relieved to be on the road home.

The Liminal

Those moments on the unknown road, heading towards the crossroad – they felt outside of time and space. It was definitely a liminal area of the in-between, where the spirit and physical worlds collide and time as we know it doesn’t exist. That wolf appeared to me for a reason, and She was guiding me. It was a sign we needed for that moment, but I also believe I was claimed that evening even though it has taken me many years to awaken to that knowledge.

🗝

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© Melissa McNair / The Torch and Key