Book of Eucalypt

Something has shifted within me – and for the first time in a long while, I welcome the change. I’ve felt trapped, stuck, and every other synonym you could throw in for immobile for what feels like forever.

And yet, nothing could have prepared me for this mental shift after my total hysterectomy. No amount of therapy, counselling, or late-night heart-to-hearts could have softened the blow. It’s like rehearsing a difficult conversation in your head – you can run through every possible scenario, but you’ll never truly predict how the other person will respond.

Likewise, no one could have foreseen how I would react.

I wish I could point to a single moment where everything changed, but it wasn’t one lightbulb – it was a series of events.

First and foremost: the book.

I wrote a book. I wrote a bloody book! A full devotional on Herne the Hunter. While I didn’t delve into certain areas like aspecting, that was intentional. I wanted this work to be an invitation for those curious about Herne, not a rigid step-by-step guide. The relationship you build with him should be your own, not mine in duplicate.

I wanted my book to stand as a companion to two pivotal texts: Herne the Hunter: A Berkshire Legend by Michael John Petry, and In Search of Herne the Hunter by Eric L. Fitch. I’ve referenced both, of course, but I wanted to ensure that it can accompany those two particular books. I have almost worn out my copy of Fitch’s book because it played such a major part in my studies of Herne before I became a Dedicant. And I am terrified of ruining my copy of Petry’s book, because it was so difficult to come across.

Those are academic masterpieces. I didn’t want to mimic them – I wanted to riff off them, to offer something new. My goal was to help readers connect with who Herne has become in today’s spiritual landscape, shaped by the collective consciousness.

This version of Herne – the one I fell in love with, the one I’ve dedicated myself to – is the reason I took the surname Hunter after stepping into my truth post-divorce. I emerged from more than one closet, and Herne was my compass.

If he’d shown interest in a Godspouse relationship, I would’ve gone that path. But he made it clear that that wasn’t on the table for us. And now that I’ve come out as a lesbian, well… it all clicks into place.

Then there’s the glasses.

Yes, glasses. “You’ve worn glasses since 1993!” I know. But these are different. These glasses make me feel my age. At 40, they give me big “secondary school art teacher” energy and oddly, I love it.

The third big shift? The concept of the Triple Goddess: Maiden, Mother, Crone.

Last night, in the shower I found myself revisiting this archetype during a pretend conversation with an old friend. The concept hit differently this time. I started thinking about how poorly it reflects the complexity of womanhood and identity – especially mine.

Technically, at 40:
I could be considered a Maiden because I’ve never given birth. I’ve had sex, I was once married to a man, but I’ve never brought a child into the world.
I could be considered a Mother because I’ve had two miscarriages. I’ve nurtured animals (and even people) but I’ve never held a child of my own in this realm.
I could be considered a Crone because I’m post-menopausal. No uterus, no periods, no possibility of pregnancy. My vaginal canal is held together by surgical sutures to prevent prolapse. It’s fucking awesome.

And yet, none of these roles fully fit.

I’m not a Maiden, because I’m not a virgin.
I’m not a Mother in the traditional sense because I have not given birth, nor do I have any children via other means (that aren’t cats).
I’m not a Crone, because I’m only 40 and I do not hold the wisdom that comes from lived experience that warrents the title of Crone.

This brings me back to the powerful, almost explosive reawakening of my femininity. Before the hysterectomy, I saw my femininity as hollow. I couldn’t connect to it. My reproductive organs didn’t feel sacred – they were toxic. My uterus harbored adenomyosis and fibroids, and during surgery, they also found endometriosis. When you add in Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder and anaphylaxis to NSAIDs…eugh.

So, do I see myself as a woman?

Depends on the day.

I see my gender as all encompassing and of none, so in that sense ‘non binary’ is probably still the better match. But, I am finally able to connect into my femininity because the poison that was stopping me has been removed. And because of that, I am connecting with the Feminine Divine in ways that I had only ever dreamed of previously.

Hecate… Hecate… Hecate…

In the past month or so, she’s come barreling into my life, taking center stage with an almost overwhelming presence. Herne, gracious as ever, has stepped back. Not out of abandonment – he’s not an arsehole – but out of respect. He knows this is “Women’s Business.” He’s done it before, literally standing on the actual fenceline of many a ritual when he knew his presence wasn’t permitted.

While working on illustrations of Herne for the book (have I mentioned I wrote a book?!), Hecate interrupted. She wanted to be drawn too. I sketched her in a classical Greek style clothing as a single form Hecate, torches in hand. She approved, though I now feel I may explore other representations. She’s patient… but also very clear in her wants.

Then I coloured in a print out of the image I drew of her, and got the colours wrong. She appeared to my in my dream in one of her forms (I’ve confirmed with a Devotee of hers, it was definitely her) so I need to re-colour in the image.

So now I have Hecate pushing me out of my comfort zones and making me process things that I had been holding onto.

It’s really difficult to let go of the past when you weren’t aware of just how much you hadn’t actually worked through, how many issues had been hiding under the couch when you thought you had swept all those shadows away.

In that same breath, Herne has been making it incredibly obvious that he is still here, and he has still got me. It’s very much a matter of, “there’s two people talking in the room, but one is louder than the other” and I can’t lip read. I can only tune into one clearly at a time, and right now, Hecate is the louder of the two.

But Herne hasn’t left.

He never does.

…have I mentioned I’ve written a book?!