Everywhere, Everywhen.

In catching up with a blogroll that I have neglected since April, I came across this post by Kaye. She discusses being overwhelmed by the juggling of gods and spirits, trying to sort Them into a schedule that allows her the time to give Them all honor. It’s familiar to me: it seems like every time I build some grandiose schedule of plans, everything falls apart.

My recent major fallow time came with my brief relationship with Persephone and the way it managed to quickly crumble under my feet. When I moved back to Boston at Wep Ronpet, I finally began to pick up the pieces. As I am currently couch surfing and subletting in my attempt to find a long-term place to stay, I move frequently. In my second location, I had a private room, where I made the large windowsill into a shrine. For a few weeks I did a daily rite (Senut), and it felt grand. Then I moved into another location. Here, I am on a couch in a living room with no privacy. My shrine goods are packed away, to be unused until I can find some safe space for them again.

It hasn’t taken long for me to feel empty again. I reached out to the community on Tumblr and received a lot of great suggestions, but have yet to really act on them. It’s taken me a while, but I think it’s time to have Zep-Tepi in my life again.

So, I can’t do Senut – not by traditional means, at least. Not even a travel shrine is happening where I am. I can, however, return to crafting, learning, and writing. These are all things I have done in the past, why stop because I can’t put together a shrine? I can start to figure out how to do pocket magix – little pieces of heka drawn onto folded up papers from my pocket book. I can knit my hippos, I can write my modern myths. I can read Pinch’s Magic in Ancient Egypt, which I picked up at the Harvard Coop, and with which I have been very pleased. I can continue to reach out to the rest of the Kemetic and pagan communities via forums and Tumblr and Facebook.

I am a deity-focused polytheist. The devotee-Divine relationship is something I have hungered for since childhood. Being as head-blind as I am, it’s hard to remember that Netjer is with me regardless of what rituals I may – or may not – be performing. They are manifest everywhere! They live in the people of Kemet, those bloggers and friends that I keep in touch with; They live in the joy of creative work; They are in the reading of fiction and non-fiction that I have begun; They are in this city that I adore.

I only need to begin to look.

PBP9: Expectations (You Can’t Always Get What You Want)

There are members of my religious community whose lack of involvement makes me frown. When it comes to Kemetic Orthodoxy, I expect involvement in the community. To me, it doesn’t make much sense to join the faith if you do not intend to participate in the religious rites – be it personal rites like Senut, or community gatherings for heka or praise of the gods and ancestors.

This is the story of how my gods completely and utterly humbled my high expectations.

 

(Trigger warning: depression and menstruation feature here, though I do not cover them heavily.)

After a week in Arizona, I came back refreshed and eager to get back to my religious practices. I had some success in divination with non-traditional tools, I had felt at home in a climate like the one my gods called home, and I had on one day performed the Senut rite (in spite of my travels) with relative success. I wrote up a big post on this blog, lining out all the things I intended to do in the month of April.

I promptly proceeded to fall apart, and not do a single one of those things.

 

I began menstruating on April first, and as of this writing, I have not stopped. It’s a light flow and it’s not a sign of medical danger (it’s a side effect of my new medication, and SHOULD balance out in time). However, all bleeding in Kemetic Orthodoxy is ritual impurity, and so I did not attend to the shrine rite.

In March, I had become aware of the creeping tendrils of depression, and began seeking medical help, but by the time that help arrived in April, I was already deep in the darkness. I found myself unable to do anything but vegetate in order to avoid my broken thoughts, and I did not attend the rituals, lectures, and fellowships that I had promised to attend.

My depression and time away from the shrine built up feelings of inadequacy. I did not attend to my devotional practices. I did not offer prayers, nor did I celebrate holidays. I did not offer water or tea or bread or anything – I did not so much as brew or cook or bake the things I had intended to make. I bid Persephone leave, told Her that I could not honor Her today – or perhaps any day. For a month, I barely even spoke to the gods.

The high expectations I had held were shattered. Though I had made these goals with the intent of being a better shemsu, my desire to better myself was poisoned with the desire to prove that I am better than others. For that, the gods have humbled me. They did not bring on my depression or my bleeding; in fact, They even offered advice through omen, divination, and coincidence. “Use this time to better yourself, use this time to focus on other things, use this time to finish your semester.” Time and time again, I ignored Their advice, spoke out in anger. I dare say my Fathers have grounded me for my petulance: my laptop has unexpectedly malfunctioned this week, though I do have my mother’s creaky machine for backup.

I’ve learned a few lessons here, but the most important is that my expectations do not matter. The world will do what it will. The gods will do what They will. And so will people.

 

For all the people who I have hurt with my high expectations of what shemsu should and should not be: I am sorry for my lack of compassion.

For all the gods and spirits who I have insulted, I am sorry for rejecting You and Your advice.

For my ka: I am sorry that I have not respected you or worked on caring for you.

Today, I will work on fixing these slights, and building very different expectations of shemsu, of Netjer, and myself

PBP 7: Deity Collecting is like Polyamory

No, really.

Polyamorous relationships require an ability to work with time: you have to split time between all relationships and life outside of love. They require openness to other possibilities, to differences. They require an ability to examine ourselves and others.

When I was at PantheaCon, I attended a panel on why Pagans are well-suited to polyamory. Though sex-positivism and other points have little to do with deity collecting, the above points from the panel came swimming back to me when I read Aubs’ post on deity collecting.

Polyamory is an identity. As with most of my identities, it is one I felt a need to hide. While I do not yet consider myself a deity collector, it’s definitely an identity I would hide. It’s certainly something that some people shame.

Yes, I would rather have a deep relationship with my Fathers and my Ladies alone than know other gods. But there is no reason that I cannot make a relationship with other gods that, while lacking depth, is no less invalid. My vows merely state that I put Them first, not that I serve Them alone. Kemetic Orthodoxy has more festivals for one group of gods than others. I cannot deny this. My fellow Kemetics often honor different deities than myself; my friends belonging to religions of other pantheons have vastly different gods to worship.

Aset is here, actively, as my teacher. Amunet is the patron of my relationship with the sister-daughter of my heart. On State Holidays, I honor State gods. I give thanks and honor to the deities my friends worship as a way to honor our friendships. Persephone is beginning to become active in the dawning of spring.

It’s becoming a lot to handle, I have begun building a schedule for religion itself. I have many loves with my gods, and I have the time management skills to handle them.

Related Reading:

My Party is Full – Crow and Hound

PBP 6: Calendars

Being Kemetic Orthodox, I have access to a pre-constructed calendar with an average of three holidays to choose from for any given day. If I have questions about our calendar, I have a whole community to ask: how do you celebrate this day? What is the history of this day? What is this day’s significance to you?

I have but one question of the calendar most days: where the hell are all the holidays for Ptah and Wepwawet? We know these were critical gods in Kemet, with one a major creator, the lord of the capital city and the other the opener of the way, a god of kings. Yet it seems information on their holidays is few and far between.

Anyone that has talked to me for more than two minutes about my Fathers knows that my adoration of Them runs deep. Not having holidays for them is something akin to a crime. Finding someone to adore Ptah with is difficult enough without that shared culture we find is festival days.

In addition, while I still live in an agricultural community fed by a river, our four seasons are vastly different from Kemet’s three seasons, and occur far out of sync. Our socio-political structure is different. Our cultures are not alike. My means as a broke college student with little physical community are different than the nobles and priests who had access to vast temple complexes. While the calendar my temple provides is an excellent basis, with many places to begin, I am beginning to create my own ideas for festivals for my gods and spirits.

Ptah has presented an idea for a cycle of holidays celebrating varieties of artisans. Originally, I planned to celebrate one art a month by trying my hand at the craft and becoming the patron of an artisan under the month’s umbrella. However, considering the time constraints of such a thing, I am considering making this a (Kemetic) seasonal process. Sculpture is definitely going to be one of the three, with baking, painting, and jewelry making also being under consideration.

Festivals for Wepwawet, I suspect, will be much harder to discover. Currently, I am toying with festivals of divination and community service, but I think that ideas will come with further research. The Ladies have their fair share of festivals as the Eyes of Ra, so I am not particularly worried about coming up with a festival calendar for Them (not when I have Shefyt to piggyback off for all things Bast).
As accountability for this project, I will try to have a working “Festival Calendar” posted for all of my gods at the beginning of each season. So expect one of those at the end of the month, when we move to the Harvest Season… right when California begins to plant.

(Oh, and check out this Kickstarter, aiming to make the Kemetic calendar accessible and customizable for all!)

 

PBP 5: Creating

Recently, a member of my temple announced her pregnancy. She mused about seeking hippo imagery for Tawaret and I piped in: “Let me knit one for you. It’s something I do as a service for Ptah.”

Wait a minute, I thought as the words left. I do a service?  It was weird to think about it, but now that knowledge makes me grin. My service for Ptah is creation.

These will be the third and fourth hippos I have knitted for fertility and protection, making for five completed plush “amulets” and several more on the way. I find the yarn, I examine the pattern, and I pray. I pray to Ptah, Lord of All Creation, and bid Him to help me master my craft. I pray that the construction of the plush will be strong and comforting. I pray to Aset, Great of Magic, and ask Her to guide me in filling the work with my magical intent and power. And I pray to whatever other Netjeru is associated with the work, requesting Their presence, requesting that They lend one of their protecting spirits to the amulet I have created. I ask for the patience and nurturing of Tawaret. I ask for the courage and wisdom of Sekhmet.

It’s a new craft for me. It’s a magic my friends call stitch witchery, a form of cottage magic that suits my style. The very act of knitting is calming, lending to a meditative state that lets the energy flow into the work. I have knitted as a form of devotion to Ptah since our relationship began. I have invited other deities to my devotional time as well – non-creation deities such as Nut, Aset, and Hethert.

I am also a writer, though I do not commonly produce devotional works. However, one poem, “The Red Lord,” has now been published through The Charles Viewer and The Bennu, the literary magazines at my former college and the House of Netjer, respectively. In addition, I am gathering ideas to submit for Beyond the Pillars – a Pagan Fantasy anthology being published by Neos Alexandria – and the Kemetic Storytellers, a radio play style project put on by my friend Heruakhetymose.

One day, I would like to create jewelry, statuary, and visual arts for my gods as well; in the meantime, I honor and support those who do the art better than I.

I do not know if I create because Ptah is my Father, or if Ptah is my Father because I create. Perhaps it is neither of these. However, I know these things to be true: I am a creator, and He is my Father, and the things I create are my service to Him.

Dua Ptah, Master of Craftsmen! Nekhtet!

PBP 4: Barques as a Metaphor

_{(Note: the following post is an extended metaphor on boats and barques. I do not claim to have a great deal of knowledge about boats, so it might not be the best metaphor, and I apologise to any sailors out there who see any inaccuracies.)}

A while ago, Benzenwepwy wrote about an idea called “The Sacred Barque.” It’s a theoretical approach to Kemeticism: everyone is on a boat, and while the boat needs to be sturdy enough to ride the waves of life, it can’t be weighed down with the trappings of the world. It interested me, because I for a long time have been playing with the ideas of Kemeticism as islands (an idea that I think Devo planted in my fledgling brain). I’ve talked a little with Benzen (as well as others she is working with to build the Sacred Barque philosophy) and while I do know that this idea is not where she intends to go with the way of the Sacred Barque, the metaphor has been eating at me long enough that I am posting it anyway.

So, we are all on a barque. The barque is a wooden vessel, and so the wood it is made of is a critical element to its effectiveness. I chose the heart as the critical element to this metaphor, because of the importance of its place in ancient thought. Now, if your barque is made of a wood that is too heavy, it’ll sink and drown everyone on it. So too with our hearts – the funerary texts reflect this with the weighing of the heart, and one of the “42 Purifications”  that speaks to me is the purification against the eating of the heart. Wood needs to be treated properly before it can be exposed to water: if the water gets into the wood, it can rot, mold, decay (the eating of the heart and isfet). So we coat our hearts in ma’at to help us stay water-tight and strong.

Next, the wood must be shaped. This is akin to personal theology and practice. Perhaps your boat has a strong prow, ready to push through any wave. You might be research focused, ready to find an answer to any question within the text that informs your practice. Your boat might be slender, the type of boat that can squeeze through tight channels and skid around rocks. You may be a person who finds comfort in the polyvalent logic of soft-polytheism, the idea that Netjer is both one and many. Maybe it’s a small boat carrying one god, maybe it’s a large one holding as many as you can carry with you. The ways to make a boat and the ways to be a Kemetic are infinite, all having their own unique purposes.

Of course, after building a barque, it does not sail on its own. Its sails are ritual, allowing it to capture ma’at as a movement force; its oars are heka, pushing us a little harder, a little faster, to our destination when we break it out. The crew is you: the practitioner; but it is also the gods and spirits we choose to work with. We carry goods to trade to others: our ideas about the gods, ritual, ma’at, heka, etc. We carry traditions for the next generation of sailors.

Sailing through life is not without its perils. Isfet threatens to corrupt our boat. The Uncreated seeks to overturn it and put out the lights we shine. Sometimes the people we trade with seek to sabotage us. Strained relations between the crew can cause slow movement. But all these things can be overcome.

We are all in our boats, moving through the sea, flotillas or alone, and we will not sink.

PBP 3: Becoming an Adult

I’ve always been a little reserved in the Kemetic community due to my age. I became a part of my temple at eighteen, and will be turning twenty this year. I am among the youngest in the House, as well as in the (for want of a better word) fellowship of Kemetics I have found on facebook and tumblr. I hold back because I worry my age, my lack of experience, and my scant research into the path we follow will cause people to dismiss me. This isn’t a Kemetic problem, I think, or even a Pagan problem, but a problem for all young people practicing a faith when they were raised in another one.

Judgments are easy to make. It’s simple to say a teen is only interested in a religion to be different, to shock, to be cool: we all know that many teenagers struggle with self-worth and their place in society. It’s easy to say that Pagan who doesn’t look deeply into the history of her gods is “a fluffy eclectic” and we all know we like to pick on eclectics who decree a warrior goddess who protects the king to be a goddess of lesbians, sex, and marijuana.

I don’t want to give people a reason to make those sort of judgments about me. I have my reasons for not being much involved in research, and I can hardly stop myself from being young; but recently my desires have changed. I want to participate in the community at large, I want to be able to be a source of information, but I am not qualified for it. In terms of personal experience, in terms of knowledge… I’m not ready.

When I was seventeen, I began to prep for what I’d been waiting for for several years: the application to take the Kemetic Orthodox beginners’ class. I revisited the question over and over again: did I really want this? What did I plan to do, to become? I would sit before my altar and ponder it all, glancing through the candlelight to look on my icon of my beloved lady, Bast. One of these nights, She spoke to me – not the tender mother who had so long protected me, but the regal queen I’d begun to realize She was.

“You’re becoming an adult, Avonell. And very soon, our relationship, and everything you know, will change.”

She was right. Everything has changed. And though I am now legally an adult, I am still growing mentally, religiously, and personally. Now, one more step toward change and growth has come to me. I, who have so long denied any identity as a reconstructionist, who have painted a mental image of recons as stuffy, nose in the air, people whose practice was dry with the dust of temples and tombs… have found my dormant interest in studying our religion’s past to be awake and hungry for books. I’m chewing through The Ancient Gods Speak, with The Daily Life of the Egyptian Gods on the way, and a bargain-priced copy of Conceptions of God in Ancient Egypt: The One and the Many is hiding in a shopping list with my last two textbooks.

After so long, am I now a Kemetic recon? Maybe. I think there is a lot to be said for the recon’s path… a lot more than the dress-up and arrogance my younger self associated it with. For now, I’ll stick with Helm’s new term of Historically Informed Polytheist; because those of you who know me know that I am quite hip. 😉

PBP 2: Arbiter

On the other side, the Divine Arbiter awaits. Perhaps scared, perhaps confused, perhaps at peace, but certainly aware of its change from life to death, the soul approaches Him. The Arbiter has many faces, ever changing: a jackal with a warrior’s gaze, a black haired child with an old man’s wise eyes, a strong man with a jackal’s cunning face. He becomes what they need to lead the way, showing them through the halls of death.

His presence is for then as a guide, that psychopompic deity leading the way for the newly deceased. Perhaps the presence of the Jackal brings comfort to the dead, or maybe a sense of dread for the wrong doings of their past. They walk on together in easy silence, contemplating the life one left behind, pouring over each action and inaction that filled the heart inside the ghost’s insubstantial chest. For seventy days they walk, watching Sopdet – Sirius – the Dog Star – rise they do.

They come to the Hall of Truths, where they stand before the King of the Dead and His royal court. The Arbiter’s role is realized, and He takes the fragile heart from the soul’s hands. As the scale begins to tip and balance, Yinepu, judge of the dead, knows in His heart the final action of that heart: its own judgement of its mortal life.

I am sworn to four syncretic gods. Of these, the Jackal – Who is Wepwawet AND Yinepu, as He so chooses – is the one I know least about. Not just in terms of historical knowledge (and posts related to reconstructionism will be forthcoming), but also in terms of personal insights. Wepwawet is not forthcoming with comfort and visions and contact, at least, not for me. I reach out to Him and though He does reach back, He merely brushes me with what I need.

Little did I expect this very primal god – servant of Kings and protector of the Dead – to be so incredibly true to His title of “Master of Secrets.” His role in my life has been as a guide. Wepwawet points me in the right direction when I am lost. Should I be in need of some important thing – money for an overdue bill, texts for an upcoming semester – He opens the way for me to receive it. I have to work for these opportunities – both in duties to the human folk who help me and in duties to Him – but Wepwawet has made them possible. He is starting to lead me to live in ma’at and develop my own views, slowly and steadily.

This is just my experiences with the Jackal. Sobeq and Zat and Benzen all see Him in their own lights, and have written about Him on their respective blogs. In addition, Benzenwepwy is a curator of all things Jackal and has published a great deal of her personal research to her website Per-Sabu: the House of Jackals. I encourage you to check out these resources – both of personal insights and of research – if you are interested in learning more about Him.

Hail Wepwawet, who opens the way! May we all be blessed on our journeys with strength as Yours.

Hail Yinepu, Master of Secrets! May You guide us in Your wisdom when we examine our hearts.

PBP 1: Artificer

I have a skeptical mind. A little strange, maybe, for the stereotypes of Pagans. It holds me back from magic and mysticism. That which science shows is the only capital T Truth I hold. However, I believe deeply in a Divine Artificer who sparked the birth of matter and life. The world sings many creation songs, each as unlikely as the next, and though none of them ring with Truth, one such tale holds particular importance to me.

This is the Tale of Ptah.

In the time when Nothing was Everything, there came to be a god. Being alone in the world, He spent His time reflecting on Himself. The god was beautiful of face, with skin as green as the unborn rain-forest. He held life, power, and stability in His hands, and He dreamed. Through His time alone, He dreamed, pondered, and planned. He looked into His Heart and saw the wishes and desires within it. He held these thoughts within His mind, and words danced on His Tongue as He spoke the first words, and the world Became.

Ptah held still, tightly gripping His staff, as the words flew from Him. For millions of years, He stood, crafting all the was and all that is with His divine speech. The first hill stood beneath Him, holding Him steady as he was locked into inertia, as He still stands today, speaking slowly and surely the words of the Artificer, making all the is and will be.

This is of course is my retelling of Ptah’s creation myth. On the surface, the reason I see an importance to this myth might be as simple as being devoted to Him as His daughter. However, I find some personal meaning in it, which I share here with you.

Firstly, you CAN make something out of nothing. Ptah came to be from the nothingness of the Nun; He spoke Creation alone. He literally is a self-made man (or rather, a self-made god). Coming from a background of nothing, coming from a struggle, coming from having messed up my own life, this myth is for me one of hope. I too can look into my heart and see my desires and act to make them reality.

In addition, this is the myth of the word smith. I am a writer in training, a story teller. I have been for as long as I can remember; if I wasn’t collaborating with friends in both written and spoken tales, I was doing it on my own, sitting in the yard or in the corner with a laptop or notebook. Ptah tells the story of our world; I too aspire to bring a world to life with my voice. This myth in many ways for me is a validation of my own dreams.

I lift up my voice to Ptah, He Who Hears, the Lord of Memphis. May He bless and guide my writing this year, the divine artificer who made me His.