It's the Dark of the Moon. The stars shine brighter than ever, taking advantage of the lack of moonlight.

Hecate, and goddesses like her, old, crone-like, wise and sometimes terrifying, hold sway at the moment. Why do we fear them?

Before you shake your head and say that most of us are not wary of them, that it’s only battered old pagans like Yours Truly who pays them much attention, stop and think. We do fear the old. We fear what they might know, what they have seen, what they can tell us. That’s probably why the media likes to make them virtually invisible, denying them power. Or portrays them as affable old fools and duffers.

The young often have no respect, and indeed sometimes target their elders, robbing them of their paltry pensions, keeping them virtually prisoners in their own homes. And when they become too ill, or frightened or helpless, along comes the Government, and moves them out of those homes. If they’ve managed to own their own place, the Government takes that and sells it too, handing over the money to care homes. And when that money runs out, the care homes can evict the elderly, as they did a while ago to a woman of 103 who could no longer pay their exorbitant charges and whose local authority refused to make good the difference. She died shortly afterwards.

I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve heard young pagans inform me that they worship Hecate. It’s as though it’s some sort of threat. The sort of ‘You’d better watch out cos I walk on the dark side’ sort of nonsense. You don’t worship Hecate any more than you worship the pensioner across the road. You befriend her, you offer your help, a listening ear; you absorb what she has to tell her, you learn.

And then you go out and try to make a society that treats the elderly with some respect, that offers them a real place in our hearts, not a place in a care home.

Seeking the Green by Tylluan Penry, published next year by Capall Bann. For more info please watch this space!