Torchbearer Essay - Delphia Omphalos

Guided by the Torch: A Spiritual Leader's Journey in Devotion to Hekate

I extend my sincere gratitude to those taking the time to engage with this reflection. My

name is Claudia, and I am the eldest of seven siblings. I was primarily raised by my

paternal grandmother and spent my formative years navigating life between Mexico City

and the United States—a duality that shaped my sense of identity and belonging from

an early age.

As a mother of four—two children from a previous relationship and two with my current

partner—my journey has been marked by profound adversity and transformation. I

endured extensive psychological, emotional, and at times physical abuse, which

ultimately compelled me to flee for the safety of myself and my children. Estranged from

family and with no support system, I spent several months living in my vehicle. While

physically uncomfortable, this experience represented a turning point: I had reclaimed

safety and autonomy.

In the aftermath, I encountered an individual whose compassion and unwavering

support facilitated my healing. Originally from Indiana—known poetically as the

"Crossroads of America"—he has stood beside me from the outset, encouraging both

my spiritual practice and my academic pursuits. Together, we are raising our daughters

and building a home rooted in mutual respect, integrity, and purpose. Surrounded by our

children and beloved pets, I have found a nurturing environment that fosters both

personal and spiritual growth.

This support has empowered me to embrace my spiritual path with renewed

commitment—to cultivate my gifts, advocate for justice, and live in alignment with the

values I seek to impart.

Throughout this journey, I have repeatedly found myself contemplating a persistent

question: Where do I go from here? This uncertainty has often been accompanied by

feelings of inadequacy, especially when I compare myself to the remarkable individuals

within the Hekatean community. Observing their eloquence, scholarly contributions, and

spiritual depth has, at times, led me to question the legitimacy of my own voice and

path. Night after night, I knelt at my altar, seeking clarity and guidance from the

Goddess. In my moments of silence and doubt, I posed heartfelt questions—Am I

worthy of this path? Do I belong among these torchbearers? Should I abandon this

training altogether?

These questions, rooted in vulnerability, often left me in tears, immersed in a trance-like

state of sorrow and perceived failure. I felt as though I had disappointed not only the

Goddess but also myself—like a student who has failed a teacher they hold in the

highest esteem. Then, in the stillness of one such moment, I heard her voice—gentle

yet resolute—saying, "Breathe, dear child. Do not leave the program. You are not here

to compete. Each devotee is guided by me, and each path is uniquely sacred. Trust."

That moment of divine reassurance offered me a sense of relief, albeit tinged with

uncertainty. Yet I remained open—willing to receive further affirmation, no matter how

subtle or symbolic.

Three days after this spiritual encounter, I was reminded of a gift I had long suppressed:

my ability to perceive what others often overlook. For years, I had concealed this ability

out of fear—fear of misunderstanding, rejection, or judgment. My intuitive insights had

cost me relationships, as others struggled to accept or comprehend the nature of my

visions. In some cases, individuals expressed resentment when I shared revelations,

they were not ready to hear. In others, they were angered by my silence when I chose

to remain observant.

In response to this emotional dissonance, I began practicing in isolation, exercising my

spiritual gifts with discretion. However, inspired by recent introspection and the renewed

connection to Hekate, I resolved to undertake another self-guided meditation. By this

time, our facilitator, Renée, had begun introducing projects and assignments, and I felt

caught between hesitation and inspiration. One evening, I approached my altar with

offerings—wine, chocolate, and roses—and petitioned the Goddess for a sign: a

confirmation that my gift of sight was integral to my spiritual service and should be

incorporated into my forthcoming project.

While the Goddess did not respond audibly, I left the altar with an inexplicable sense of

clarity and confidence. The following day, I received a call from a long-time friend who

insisted on meeting in person to deliver a gift. Wrapped in silk and layers of bubble

wrap, I carefully unwrapped the object to discover an owl figurine—a symbol of

profound personal and spiritual significance. The owl, my spirit animal, embodies

wisdom and the ability to traverse realms of shadow and mystery—qualities deeply

associated with the Goddess Hekate.

This serendipitous offering affirmed what I had long suspected: that my visions are not

anomalies to be hidden but tools of spiritual insight and service. I resolved to continue

the training and embrace these gifts with greater intentionality.

Several days after receiving the owl figurine, a new development challenged my

understanding of perception and deepened my commitment to my spiritual path. I began

experiencing what I now refer to as "dual vision"—a phenomenon not of impaired

eyesight, but of heightened spiritual sight. This occurred consistently in the presence of

a particular individual, whom I shall refer to as Ashley to preserve her anonymity.

Ashley presented as introverted and reserved, someone who, to the casual observer,

might appear detached or aloof. Our initial interactions were cordial yet unremarkable.

However, during one of our early conversations—mundane in nature, focused on

everyday topics—I experienced a profound shift in awareness. As I turned to look at her,

I simultaneously perceived an alternate scene unfolding in my mind: a violent

confrontation in which she was being verbally and physically assaulted by a man, who

held her by the neck and threatened to push her down a flight of stairs.

Despite the emotional intensity of this vision, I remained composed, guided by an inner

directive to simply observe. Later that evening, I documented the details of the

encounter in my journal. I chose silence over disclosure, sensing that the time was not

yet right for intervention.

In subsequent interactions, the visions persisted. On another occasion, while Ashley

spoke about benign topics such as music and makeup, I again perceived a scene from

her childhood. She was walking alone toward a hill, carrying a backpack, her cheeks

flushed from the autumn air. Though I had no knowledge of her past appearance, I

instinctively recognized her through the unchanging quality of her eyes—windows,

perhaps, to an inner truth that transcends time.

Eventually, Ashley invited me to visit her workplace. There, I witnessed a different form

of mistreatment: subtle hostility from colleagues, dismissiveness from her supervisor,

and an overall atmosphere of tension. Yet, during a quieter moment at her desk, I once

again experienced a dual vision. This time, her coworkers appeared as symbolic

representations from her past—her supervisor as an abusive father figure, a female

colleague as a judgmental sibling. The roles and dynamics, though played out in a

professional environment, mirrored those of unresolved familial trauma.

Ashley often hummed to herself and maintained a guarded demeanor. Over time, her

behavior became increasingly erratic. She vacillated between excessive cheerfulness

and deep despondency, frequently arriving late, occasionally dismissive, and, at times,

openly confrontational. I began to feel the weight of her unpredictability and questioned

my purpose in her life. Why am I enduring this? I asked. I would not tolerate such

treatment from my own family—why now?

In that moment of frustration, the Goddess once again spoke: "Look at the bigger

picture."

What followed was a spiritual revelation. I perceived Ashley’s reality not as isolated

incidents of rudeness or instability, but as symptoms of a much deeper wound—of

cumulative trauma, abandonment, and loss. Her most recent partner, the one

responsible for the violence in my vision, had died, leaving her alone with four children.

She had no meaningful support system. Her behavior, though difficult, was a cry for

help—an expression of emotional exhaustion and spiritual depletion.

Though I am not a licensed mental health professional, my visions enabled me to

contextualize her behavior through the lens of compassion. Rather than recoiling from

her pain, I chose to sit beside her in silence during one of her outbursts. With tears

brimming in her eyes, she recounted the abuse she had endured. I never disclosed the

visions I had received, but they had already prepared me to listen without judgment and

respond without fear.

These experiences illuminated the profound potential of my spiritual gifts—not merely

for perception, but for discernment, de-escalation, and healing. I began to recognize

patterns in behavior that were previously obscured. I understood that Ashley’s

aggression was not rooted in malice, but in the absence of safety and the erasure of her

voice. Her entire life, she had been silenced. My task was not to fix her, but to bear

witness and extend compassion where it had long been denied.

In addition to guiding me through my own healing and interpersonal challenges, my

visions have enabled me to support others in identifying and overcoming manipulative

and harmful dynamics in their own lives. One such instance involved a close friend, who

had unknowingly entered into a toxic relationship with his employer—a relationship that

exploited his vulnerabilities and blurred the boundaries between personal and

professional life.

Several years prior, my friend had lost his father, an event that left a profound emotional

void. His employer, aware of this loss, gradually assumed the role of a paternal figure.

Under the guise of mentorship and affection, this individual manipulated my friend’s

grief, consistently crossing professional boundaries and exploiting his emotional need

for approval and belonging.

This exploitation manifested in disturbing ways. My friend would receive calls in the

middle of the night—at 2 or 3 a.m.—not with urgent business matters, but with demands

couched in performative care: “You know you’re like a son to me,” his employer would

say. Yet, in the light of day, this same man would belittle him publicly, calling him weak

or childish for expressing hesitation or enforcing boundaries. The emotional abuse was

cyclical—each episode of humiliation followed by superficial gestures of reconciliation,

such as the gift of expensive liquor.

Through a vision, I became acutely aware of the emotional manipulation my friend was

enduring. I was guided to urge him to reflect critically on the nature of this relationship

and to reconsider the symbolic power of the “apologies” he was accepting. I specifically

advised him to stop accepting alcohol as a means of reconciliation, as it was not only

unhealthy, but a tool used to maintain control and dependency.

Initially, he resisted this perspective. The bond he felt with his employer was, in many

ways, comforting—familiar even, in its dysfunction. But after a candid and emotionally

difficult conversation, he began to implement changes. He started to establish

boundaries, to refuse inappropriate calls, and to demand the respect he deserved. His

progress has not been linear, but it has been real and sustained. By trusting my visions,

and through the guidance of the Goddess, I was able to offer the insight and

encouragement he needed at a critical juncture in his journey.

This experience reaffirmed the importance of discernment and timing in spiritual work.

Not every message must be spoken immediately, and not every insight should be

shared without discernment. My growing confidence in the validity and utility of my

visions has allowed me to better recognize when to act, when to speak, and when to

simply observe and hold space.

As I near the conclusion of this stage in my journey as a torchbearer student, I find

myself reflecting deeply on the evolving nature of spiritual leadership. One of the most

profound lessons I have internalized is the necessity of looking beyond immediate

circumstances—of holding faith not only in the unseen but in the unfolding of the future.

While I remain acutely aware of my imperfections and the ongoing work of personal

development, I am committed to embodying the principles and insights I have gained.

A pivotal component of this journey has been the class centered on the teachings of the

Jackal and the Giraffe. This framework offered me a new lens through which to

understand interpersonal dynamics and the practice of emotional intelligence. I learned

that not every provocation requires a response, nor does every situation demand my

energy or input. Silence, when used with discernment, can be a potent act of wisdom. I

have come to accept that the actions and words of others are often more reflective of

their inner struggles than of my own worth or efforts.

Furthermore, the multifaceted nature of our patroness, Hekate, serves as a constant

reminder that there is no singular expression of devotion. Just as she manifests in

diverse forms and roles, so too must each devotee embody their spiritual service in

ways authentic to their unique gifts. I have realized that before I can carry her torches

for others, I must allow them to illuminate my own path. Her teachings have guided me

to understand that true service begins with self-awareness, integrity, and compassion.

Through this program and my meditative practices, I have been called to embody the

five core virtues she imparts. Compassion, I have learned, must begin with the self; it is

only through nurturing my own healing that I can extend genuine empathy to others.

Temperance has become a necessary discipline, allowing me to regulate my emotional

responses and create space for thoughtful leadership. Courage has emerged not as the

absence of fear, but as the willingness to share my truth—despite fear. This very essay

is an act of courage, a public testimony of experiences I once hesitated to articulate.

Justice, too, has shown itself as a recurring virtue in my life. I have stood in court on

behalf of undocumented migrant friends, challenged those who sought to harm or

exploit the vulnerable, and consistently raised my voice for children, women, elders,

animals, and all marginalized beings. These acts are not isolated moments of advocacy

but expressions of a deep spiritual calling to uphold dignity and truth.

Perhaps the most unexpected, yet most liberating realization, is the wisdom to

understand that my path does not require affiliation with a formal coven or group at this

time. I have come to accept that I walk a nomadic spiritual path, one that remains open

to the future of the community but is presently rooted in solitary devotion and service.

The Goddess continues to send those in need across my path, and I have committed

myself to serve them with honesty, humility, and compassion, guided always by her

light.

In her name and with unwavering dedication, I continue this journey—trusting that each

vision, each challenge, and each act of service is a sacred step along the road she has

laid before me.

Thank you for taking the time to engage with my story.