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
Their Love Flows Like Wine 