more ways of reintroducing Hestia yourself.
If you can have a living fire, then do so. There is nothing like sitting by a fire on a cold day, keeping warm and gazing into the flames. If you cannot have a real fire, there are now many beautiful gas fires which look realistic and give Hestia a symbolic home.
If all fires are out of the question, then buy a large scented altar or church candle, place it on a mantelpiece or table in the heart of the home and use that as the focus of your home. You could turn this space into a home altar by putting on it representations of you and your family: photos, anything symbolic or special; some fresh flowers; some incense. Light your candle every day for a short while and welcome Hestia into the flame and your home.
Hestia is the original housewife, in the sense of the word before it became so defamed. But there is no shame in caring for your home and keeping it clean and beautiful. Clean your home with care and pride (more on this in Part Three). Think of it as a kind of meditation; focus on what you are doing; be in the moment. Don’t begrudge your time or look on your efforts as fruitless (dust arriving the moment you’ve dusted); use it as a time for reflection and centring.
Hestia loves the order of the home. Whether you live alone or share with hordes, make meal-times special and sacred by always sitting down to eat. Lay the table with care and put fresh flowers or something natural (beautiful pebbles, pots of herbs, unusual pieces of driftwood) as a centrepiece. Cook the food, however simple, with care and attention and serve it with love. Be conscious that you are not just feeding bodies but souls as well. Say grace before you eat, whatever your religious beliefs. It needn’t be ‘for what we are about to receive …’, it could be a simple ‘thank-you’ to God, the Earth, the food, the cook. It might even be the old Roman ‘To Vesta’.
One of Hestia’s prime symbols is the circle, the ancient symbol of Mother Earth, of psychic wholeness, togetherness and unity. Anything that draws people together in the round is wonderful for connecting – think of Arthur’s round table. It doesn’t have to mean buying a new dining room table (although if you need one, maybe try thinking round!), but you could draw people around the fire, or around a coffee table for drinks, around a picnic rug outside: when people are in a circle they automatically talk more and pay attention to each other.
Try cutting down Hermes’ domination in your house. Perhaps move the television so it isn’t the dominating centre of the room. Then you won’t be so likely to switch it on automatically when you come into the room. Can you cut down on news feeds, on social media, on online groups and chat? Can you live an hour or so (or even a day or two) without checking your email? Can you switch off your alerts, or even switch off your smartphone once in a while and call people back in your time? Just be aware of how much you focus on Hermes’ and his toys.
Allow yourself a little Hestia time every day, a quiet time for pottering around your home, adjusting something here, moving something there. Give yourself a few moments to watch a shaft of sunlight glancing through a window. That chair looks inviting? Allow yourself some time to sit and muse. Day-dream.
Don’t race, don’t rush, don’t try to do everything at once. Hestia is the goddess of focus. She teaches that we should become absorbed in one task at a time, working quietly and calmly with inward serenity. Her way may seem boring but it gets things done – efficiently and well.
If you are one of those madly sociable people who always has ‘open house’, make sure you have times when you or your family can be by yourselves. Explain that you might not always be available if people drop in – maybe you could have a sign to put up if you’re in Hestia space, asking people to drop by another time? Explain to the kids that sometimes it’s nice for you to eat together as a family – not just one or two of you and not with all their friends there either Just the family. Hestia would like that.
DO YOU BELIEVE A HOUSE possesses spirits or is it just superstitious nonsense? Let me tell you a strange story. When I was a student, six of us shared an apartment and one of my room-mates, Gina, was Malaysian. She was a highly intelligent and very down-to-earth woman who was studying architecture. So I was stunned one day when she calmly appeared in our kitchen and announced that she had just seen our ‘house spirit’. ‘What did it look like?’ I asked, laughing, quite convinced she was having a joke. ‘Oh, it’s a man, about eight feet tall, very stern and imposing,’ she replied, in all seriousness. ‘Where is he? Where did you see him?’ I then asked. ‘In the shower,’ she replied. We all laughed out loud at this but, strangely enough, we all stopped using the shower and had baths instead. The idea of sharing a shower with an eight-foot Malaysian house spirit was a little unnerving, to put it mildly. Gina explained that in Malaysia every house, every living space (however small) has its own household spirit. She said that we shouldn’t be nervous of him; he was there to guard us and keep us safe. She found it strange that we should not believe in spirits, and that we should not look to our own native spirits to protect us and our homes.
Most Westerners would agree that there are no such things as spirits of the house; guardians of the threshold; invisible entities which share our space. Yet we’re in the minority. The vast number of non-Western cultures firmly believe in spirits: their homes are full of household gods, spirits and the souls of their ancestors. Their homes are alive, not just with the physical bodies of the humans who live in them, but with the energetic bodies of more ethereal creatures. We may mock, but the same beliefs ran through our own cultures until not so long ago. Throughout Europe, houses had a veritable army of esoteric helpers: pixies and fairies; brownies and banniks. Early American settlers painted protective symbols on their houses and barns to keep away bad spirits; and put out a bowl of cream to attract the good.
THE SPIRITS AND SPRITES OF THE HOME
Look through a book on the folklore of virtually any country and culture and the story is the same. In Scotland and parts of England there are brownies who attach themselves to a particular house and come out at night to perform the tasks that need doing – repairing, sweeping and protecting the livestock and family. In Wales there is the pwca, in Ireland the puca or pooka, in Denmark the puge. In the Baltic states a similar brownie-like figure is known as the puk. The names are almost identical and their functions are the same: to guard and help the household, providing the household respects and rewards them. Similar beings are the shvod of America, the kikimora of Russia, the haltia of Finland, the befana of Italy, the nisse of Scandinavia, the nat of Burma, the phi of Thailand. In Germany they are known as kobolds and will soothe the children of the house with sweet songs. In African folklore the protective spirits are aiza; in Lithuania the house spirits are aitvaras who appear as a cock inside the house and a fiery dragon outside.
Some spirits had specific tasks and places of abode – the skritek of Slavic lore dwelt behind the oven and was represented as a small boy, with his arms crossed and wearing a crown. His statue was placed on the hearth to guard the house when the family was not there. The cluricaun is an Irish spirit who lives in the wine cellar; in Germany he is known as the biersal and will keep everything spick-and-span – providing he is given a jug of beer every day. In Russia there is even the bannik, the spirit of the bathtub who needs to be placated by leaving a little water in the bath and some soap ready to hand, for him to use should the mood so take him.
All these folkloric spirits had features in common. They were tricky spirits, willing to help in whatever way they could – providing you earned their favour. If you did not appreciate them or failed to leave the requisite
