Last autumn, Hekate interrupted my housework with clairaudience.
I wasn’t meditating. I wasn’t praying. I wasn’t performing a ritual beneath a full moon.
I was cleaning.
That probably doesn’t sound very impressive. Popular culture has conditioned us to expect spiritual experiences to arrive with dramatic special effects. If the Dark Mother wants to speak, surely there should be incense, solemn chanting, and at least one mysterious raven perched nearby.
Instead, I was dusting surfaces, putting things away and moving my hoover rhythmically back and forth across my office floor.
Then, for roughly half an hour, I had what I can only describe as a god-phone.
I’ve always been intermittently clairaudient. I don’t have it on tap. I can’t summon it at will. In fact, the harder I try, the less likely it seems to happen. The experiences arrive when they arrive, often at inconvenient or unexpected moments.
This was one of those moments.
As often happens with a neurodivergent brain, I slipped into a deeply absorbed state while cleaning. Not in trance exactly. Just focused enough that the constant chatter of ordinary thought had faded into the background.
Then a voice arrived.
Not an audible voice in the room. Nothing like that.
The experience was closer to receiving complete thoughts, fully formed, carrying a distinct personality and presence that felt separate from my own internal dialogue. The answers arrived before I had properly finished forming the questions.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“Hekate.”
The reply was immediate.
What followed was one of the most unusual conversations of my life.
Every question seemed to receive an answer. Not just information, but understanding. There was a warmth to the exchange that surprised me. Wisdom without judgement. Clarity without pressure.
One of the things she told me was that I needed to learn to trust myself before we could properly work together.
That landed harder than it might sound.
At the time, I was still at the tail end of recovering from decades of religious trauma. Much of that journey involved learning to trust my own perception again after spending a lifetime outsourcing authority to other people, systems, and beliefs.
Trusting a deity is one thing.
Trusting yourself is another.
At one point, I asked a question that had been sitting quietly in the back of my mind for some time.
Are you and Santa Muerte the same being?
The answer came immediately.
“We are sisters, and she is handing you over to me now.”
That answer surprised me.
Santa Muerte had been an important presence in my spiritual life for some time. I felt extremely devoted to her. Hekate had been calling for even longer, but I had resisted her. If I’m honest, part of that resistance came from the fact that she seemed too popular. Another part came from fear. Public devotion to Hekate felt more vulnerable somehow. There is nearly as much gatekeeping around Hekate as there is around Evangelical Christianity.
Yet here she was, apparently explaining a transition that was already underway.
The strangest part is that, looking back now, she was right.
At the time, Hekate was not the central focus of my spiritual practice.
Today, she is.
The shift happened gradually. Hekate Drakaina was born. My understanding of the crossroads deepened. My life (hello menopause) and work increasingly centred around themes of transformation, sovereignty and what I now think of as the World Soul.
The conversation wasn’t predicting the future in the fortune-telling sense.
It was describing a process already unfolding.
That experience also changed the way I think about clairaudience.
Most people expect spiritual communication to happen during ritual, meditation, or prayer. Those certainly can create the conditions for it. Yet many of the people I’ve spoken to over the years describe receiving insights while walking, driving, gardening, showering, or doing housework.
There seems to be something about repetitive activities that opens a different kind of space.
The doorway stands open for a moment.
Whether you interpret experiences like mine as communication from a deity, the subconscious mind, the higher self, or something else entirely is ultimately up to you.
I can only tell you what happened.
I was cleaning the house.
A conversation began.
The answers carried a wisdom and warmth that felt unlike my ordinary thoughts.
And nine months later, the shift she described has quietly unfolded.
The gods, if they choose to speak, don’t always wait for sacred circles and carefully planned rituals.
Sometimes they interrupt your housework.
