There comes a time in the devotional life of many devotees of Hekate when the torchlight dims. The dreams fade, the signs cease, and the familiar sense of presence seems to vanish. The goddess who once felt near, whispering in the dark, meeting us at the crossroads, seems to withdraw into silence.
For some, this quiet lasts days or weeks; for others, it stretches into months or years. It can feel like abandonment or punishment, or worse, that the relationship has come to an end. Yet silence is not necessarily absence. It is often a change of tone, an invitation to listen differently.
Hekate, the goddess who walks between
Hekate has never been a simple goddess to grasp. From the earliest sources, she moves between worlds and roles: chthonic and celestial, nurturing and severe, companion and initiator. Hesiod describes her as honoured above all by Zeus, who gave her a share in every realm — earth, sea, and starry heaven. Later texts, such as the Chaldean Oracles, portray her as the liminal boundary between the divine and material worlds, the fiery membrane through which spirit descends and ascends.
This in-between nature means her devotees are often drawn to thresholds: of life and death, waking and dream, seen and unseen. But thresholds are not static places. They demand motion, and with motion comes change. A period of silence may signal that we have reached a new threshold, one she will not cross with us until we are ready.
Echoes of absence in antiquity
Even in antiquity, Hekate’s presence was not constant. The Greek Magical Papyri and surviving prayers show that individuals sought her favour through repeated ritual, offerings, and conjurations. Ancient devotees understood that the relationship required effort and that divine presence was a gift, not an entitlement.
In the Orphic Hymns, she is invoked at night with incense and words that praise her and entreat, not command, her presence. The tone is one of humility and awe, suggesting that contact with her was never guaranteed, but hoped for.
Why silence comes
There are many reasons Hekate might go silent, and most are not punitive in nature.
Sometimes it marks an initiatory withdrawal, a phase of transformation when her guidance moves inward. Like the moon she is associated with, she passes into shadow to renew herself. During such times, we are invited to hold our own torch and discover what we already know.
At other times, the silence reflects our own condition. Exhaustion, grief, distraction, or fear can dull perception. The goddess may still be near, but we are tuned to a different frequency. I have experienced this myself during periods of burnout. It was only later, when rest restored my capacity to pay attention, that I realised she had been there all along. I simply hadn’t been able to hear her.
Silence can also signal a change in the relationship. The way we knew her may no longer be how we need to know her. She may call us to new forms of service, new symbols, new expressions of devotion. Silence creates the space for that shift to unfold.
And sometimes — and this is worth remembering — life is smooth. When everything is steady, predictable, and safe, we may not feel her presence as vividly. Hekate dwells in the liminal spaces: in birth and death, change and choice, shadow and revelation. We feel her most when we are crossing thresholds, when we are grieving, growing, healing, or facing uncertainty. When life settles into ordinary rhythm, it is not that she withdraws, but that we do. We step out of the in-between, and her presence, though still near, becomes quiet.
If you have recently emerged from a difficult period and find her suddenly distant, consider this: perhaps the crisis that brought you together has passed. You are no longer standing at the crossroads because you have already chosen your path. This does not mean she only cares for you in suffering; she can also walk with us in peace. But her presence in peacetime may be subtler, less urgent, like the difference between a shout and a whisper. Both are her voice. We have to learn to listen differently.
The weight of silence
Understanding why silence happens doesn’t always make it easier to bear.
When Hekate goes quiet, the practices that once felt meaningful can start to feel empty. The signs you learnt to recognise, such as dreams, synchronicities, and a sense of presence, may fade or stop entirely. Standing at your altar might bring nothing but silence. The silence can bring up doubt about the relationship, about your own perceptions, about whether any of it was real.
This is a common experience in devotional practice, not a sign that something is wrong. The feelings that accompany it, such as frustration, sadness, confusion, and even anger, are all normal responses to what feels like a loss.
"Did I do something wrong?"
The fear of having done something wrong is often the first to rise when the silence descends: that you have offended her somehow, broken some rule you didn’t know existed, failed a test you didn’t know you were taking.
The truth is nuanced. While the gods can be stern, and Hekate herself is associated with nightmares, madness, and the power to punish, silence as a form of punishment is less common than we fear. Most often, silence comes for other reasons.
That said, some things matter. Breaking vows or promises made to Hekate is a serious matter. If you have made a pledge, such as an offering schedule, a dedication, or a specific act of service, and abandoned it without explanation or release, that is worth examining.
Similarly, if you have treated her with genuine disrespect — approaching her only when you want something, making demands rather than requests, failing to reciprocate her gifts with gratitude or service — the silence may reflect that pattern.
But there is a difference between those serious breaches and the anxious worry that you’ve somehow failed without knowing how. If you have been sincere in your devotion, shown up with honesty and effort, and kept your word or released yourself honourably from promises you could not keep, you have not failed. Silence in that context is not a verdict on your worth. It is a phase of the relationship.
If you cannot think of a specific broken vow, disrespectful behaviour, or serious neglect, you almost certainly have not committed one. The anxiety itself is often more about our own wounds than anything we have actually done.
For newer practitioners, if you’re unsure whether you may have done something inappropriate but lack the experience to know, seeking guidance from more experienced devotees can be helpful. Sometimes we don’t know what we don’t know, and a trusted mentor or community can offer perspective.
The crossroads within
The crossroads, which is one of Hekate’s most sacred and recognisable symbols, is not only a place in the world but also a state of soul. When we stand at an inner crossroads, unsure of which way to turn, silence can be her most powerful teaching. It asks us to stop seeking constant validation and learn discernment.
In ancient Greek religion, sophrosyne (soundness of mind) was considered a divine virtue. Hekate’s silence can be an invitation to practise that virtue: to examine our motives, our fears, and the ways we might be clinging to her as rescuer rather than ally.
If you genuinely cannot remember or find previous guidance, if you have searched your memory and records and come up empty, do not manufacture guilt. Sometimes we were not given instructions. Sometimes the silence is the instruction: to wait, to sit with uncertainty, to develop our own sense of direction.
Ways to reconnect
When the silence feels heavy, there are ways to reopen the path, not to force her presence, but to become receptive again.
Return to the threshold. Visit a literal crossroads, shoreline, or doorway. Leave a simple offering: bread, honey, or wine. Speak aloud your gratitude, even if you feel nothing. The act itself restores the rhythm of the relationship. If you cannot leave your home, stand in a doorway at dusk. That, too, is a threshold.
Study her names. Inscriptions, hymns, and epithets reveal Hekate’s many faces: Chthonia, Phosphoros, Enodia, Soteira. Each title is a key. Meditating on them can reawaken an aspect of her that feels distant.
Engage in service. Hospitality and care for strangers were sacred duties in the ancient Greek world, overseen by Zeus himself. Some modern practitioners view Hekate as guardian of the marginal and lost, and honour her through acts that echo this ancient virtue. Volunteering, mentoring, or helping at a shelter can be a form of devotion.
Keep the flame. Lighting a small lamp each evening, without expectation, keeps the devotional thread alive. Over time, this simple consistency speaks more loudly than words.
Read and study. During periods of silence, deepening your knowledge of Hekate’s mythology, cult sites, and historical worship can be a form of devotion. Sometimes, when direct contact feels absent, scholarship becomes the bridge.
Consider other deities. Turning to other gods during Hekate’s silence is not a betrayal. She comes from a polytheistic world where few worshipped a single deity in isolation. In myth and cult, she collaborates with others — assisting Demeter in her search for Persephone, appearing in rituals that invoke Hermes, and sharing liminal spaces with Artemis. The gods do not demand exclusivity. If you feel drawn to Hermes, Persephone, or another deity whose energy complements hers, it may even be part of what she is asking you to do. Just be honest about it. Acknowledge her in your practice even as you explore other relationships.
These practices are most effective when sustained over time, rather than attempted once or twice and then abandoned. If you consistently try several of these approaches for months and still feel no shift, it may be time to turn to the sections on discernment and acceptance, considering whether this is a prolonged fallow period or something more permanent.
Avoiding the pitfalls of panic
When the silence stretches on, desperation can lead us to counterproductive patterns.
Resist the urge to bargain or perform increasingly elaborate rituals to ‘win her back’. These impulses come from fear, not devotion, and rarely open the way.
Do not speak ill of her to other deities or spirits. If you need to process your pain, do so with a trusted human practitioner, a therapist, or in your journal.
If anger rises, allow distance but avoid destruction. Dismantle your altar respectfully rather than in rage. Leave the door open.
And do not compare yourself to other practitioners. Someone else’s visions or synchronicities say nothing about your own relationship. Comparison will only deepen your suffering.
Community and isolation
When Hekate goes silent, the isolation can compound the difficulty. You may fear that speaking about it means admitting failure, or that other devotees will judge you. This fear is understandable but often unfounded. Many practitioners experience periods of divine silence; it is one of the most common aspects of devotional life, though we rarely speak of it openly.
If you have access to a trusted community (whether in person or online), consider sharing your experience. You might simply say, “I’m in a fallow period with Hekate and finding it challenging. Has anyone else experienced this?” You may be surprised by how many people respond with recognition and solidarity.
If you don’t have a community, seek one gently. Look for Hekatean groups, devotional polytheist forums, or witchcraft spaces where theological discussion is welcome. Even reading others’ experiences of silence can help you feel less alone.
And if you cannot find community, or are not ready to speak about it, write. Journal your experience. Document the silence as honestly as you can. Future you (or another practitioner who finds your words) may be grateful for the witness.
A note on mental health
It is important to acknowledge that profound spiritual silence, especially when accompanied by a loss of joy, meaning, or connection in other areas of life, can sometimes indicate depression or other mental health concerns.
If Hekate’s silence coincides with persistent low mood or numbness, loss of interest in activities you once enjoyed, difficulty functioning in daily life, feelings of worthlessness or hopelessness, or isolation from friends and loved ones, please consider speaking with a mental health professional.
Spiritual experience and mental health are not separate; they influence each other. Depression can dull our capacity to perceive the divine, just as spiritual crisis can affect our emotional wellbeing. Seeking therapy or other support is not a failure of faith; it is an act of self-care.
How long is too long?
One of the most difficult questions practitioners ask is: How long should I wait?
There is no universal answer. It could be days, weeks, or even years. The duration does not indicate the severity of the situation or your worthiness.
Days to weeks could signal a natural ebb in connection; rest, reassess, and continue your practice without anxiety. Months may indicate an initiatory period, a life transition, or a need to develop independence; maintain your devotional baseline, but avoid trying to force contact. A year or more suggests that it’s worth seriously considering whether the relationship is shifting or coming to an end.
If the silence stretches beyond a year and you have tried everything — offerings, service, study, divination, community — it may be time to accept that this phase of the relationship has ended, or that it is on indefinite pause.
Telling the difference: silence or ending?
How do you know if the silence is temporary or permanent? This is one of the hardest discernments to make.
Signs it may be a pause rather than an ending:
- You still feel occasional pulls to her altars, symbols, or stories
- Dreams of crossroads, keys, dogs, or thresholds persist even if she herself is absent
- You feel resistance at the thought of dismantling her altar
- Other practitioners or diviners pick up on her presence around you
- Life continues to place you in liminal situations that feel like her territory
Signs it may be an ending:
- All pull towards her has vanished; you look at her altar and feel nothing, not even sadness
You feel a clear release or completion, as if something has been fulfilled - Your energy has shifted entirely to other deities, practices, or life paths
- Multiple divination methods, over time, consistently suggest the relationship has served its purpose
- You feel relief, not grief, at the thought of stepping back
Even these signs are not absolute. Relationships with deities can shift again after what seemed like an ending. Not knowing is a valid place to be.
When the silence remains
For some, Hekate’s silence may stretch on indefinitely. If that happens, it may mean the relationship has fulfilled its purpose. The gods are not possessions; they are relationships that evolve and sometimes come to an end.
This may not be easy to accept, especially if the relationship once felt vital to you. But Hekate teaches autonomy as much as devotion. If she withdraws completely, she may be trusting you to navigate the dark on your own. Not every devotee is meant to walk with her for a lifetime. Some are called for a season, for a specific crossing.
Before you accept this as an ending, give it time. What feels like finality may be a very long pause. Some silences break after years. Some devotees return to her after a decade away and find her waiting as if no time had passed.
There is no shame in stepping back. Honouring what was, even as it changes or ends, is its own form of devotion.
The torch rekindled
In time, many discover that the silence was never total. It was an invitation to deepen. When the wind rises and the torch flares again, the connection feels changed: steadier, more mature.
Hekate, ever the guide at the crossroads, has not abandoned us. She has walked ahead into the dark, waiting for us to follow by our own light. And when we do, we often find her there. Not behind us, urging us on, but ahead, illuminating the way once more.