The Night I Think I Answered Hecate’s Call
The Crossroads
An original watercolor inspired by Hecate — goddess of liminal spaces, crossroads, and quiet power.
Painted on 7 x 10 inch Saunders Waterford 100% cotton paper, this piece features a cloaked feminine figure standing beneath a crescent moon, accompanied by a crow at her feet. Deep violet tones and layered washes create a grounded, shadowed presence, while the luminous moon halo frames her in quiet authority.
Before beginning, I ground through Reiki and infuse the water used in the painting process with intention. This piece was created slowly and deliberately, honoring themes of sovereignty, intuition, and threshold-crossing.
Details:
• Size: 7 x 10 inches (17.8 x 25.4 cm)
• Medium: Professional watercolor
• Paper: Saunders Waterford 100% cotton
• Reiki-infused creative process
• Unframed
Perfect for:
• Devotional or altar spaces
• Dark feminine decor
• Mythology lovers
• Spiritual home interiors
• Collectors of original symbolic art
Ships flat and carefully protected
There are moments in life that don’t feel random.
At the time, you don’t always understand them.
They just feel… charged. Like something unseen is watching to see what you’ll do next.
This happened to me December 7, 2024. It was my uncle Felix’s birthday the 3rd one since he passed. That alone already made the day feel heavy, reflective.
Around that time, I had started coming across Hecate more and more.
Videos. Symbols. Her name appearing in places I hadn’t looked before.
I hadn’t “accepted” anything yet. In fact, I was actively avoiding doing anything because the thought scared me a little.
But deeper down I could feel something was… circling.
That evening, around 5:30pm, it was already pitch black outside.
Someone rang my doorbell.
At first, I ignored it. I thought it was a package. But my dog kept barking, persistent, and uneasy so I went downstairs to check.
There was a woman standing on my porch.
She was clearly intoxicated. Barely able to stand.
I was in pajama shorts and a tank top, so I told her to wait while I grabbed a coat and boots. When I came back outside, I realized very quickly. This wasn’t someone who could just be pointed in a direction and sent on their way.
She was asking where the nearest gas station was so she could get bus tickets.
But as she spoke, she was swaying. Stumbling. Disoriented.
And it hit me:
If I send her away like this, she could fall into a snowbank and freeze.
So I asked her to sit down on the steps and told her I’d get her some water.
We sat there together in the cold.
Strangers.
But not really.
I brought her water. I tried to figure out where she lived. Her ID said Saskatchewan. Her phone was dead, so I brought it inside and started charging it.
When I came back out, something shifted.
She started talking.
Really talking.
She told me she had been jumped a few days earlier. Her face was swollen, her head hurt. She told me about her sister who had died. About how she couldn’t stop drinking. About how she felt like a failure.
At one point, a police car drove by. Slowed down. Rolled their window down.
They asked if I had seen a drunk woman knocking on doors.
And without hesitation, I said:
“No, sorry. I haven’t seen anything.”
They drove away.
She laughed, lightly hit my leg, and said thank you.
To them we looked like two friends catching up outside and that is what it felt like.
And we just… sat there.
Two people on a porch in the dark.
Talking about grief. Pain. Loss.
At some point, she started crying.
And I held her.
And we cried together.
Eventually, her phone had enough charge to turn on.
I got her address. Called her an Uber from my account. Made sure she got in safely. I even added her on Facebook and told her she could reach out if she needed to talk. I remember telling her you’ve got this you want to get better and I believe in you.
And then she was gone.
But the feeling didn’t leave.
Looking back now, I can’t shake the sense that this was something more.
Not in a dramatic, cinematic way.
But in a quiet, deeply human way.
A moment where I was being asked:
Will you turn away… or will you open?
What will you do when no one is looking?
Hecate is known as a goddess of crossroads.
Of thresholds.
Of liminal spaces, the in-between.
And that night felt exactly like that.
A threshold.
A test, maybe.
Not of belief.
But of who I am when it matters.
When no one is looking.
Because the truth is I didn’t help her because I was trying to be spiritual.
I didn’t help her because I thought it meant something.
I helped her because…
That's who I’ve always been.
I can’t look at someone in pain and turn away. I didn’t see someone who was drunk and a bother. I saw a woman who was in pain hurting and needed someone to treat her like a human and listen.
And maybe that’s the point.
Maybe answering a call doesn’t look like rituals or candles or grand moments.
Maybe sometimes it looks like:
- opening your door
- sitting in the cold
- listening without fixing
- choosing compassion when it would be easier not to
That night didn’t feel like magic.
But something about it changed me.
And not long after…
I stopped ignoring the signs.
I don’t think the call came after that moment.
I think…
That moment was the call.