May 31, 2010
Posted in Festivals, Netjeru, Poetry and Prayers
at 11:27 am
by Shefyt
This morning I got up at the crack of dawn to do a small ritual for Memorial Day (as I’d mentioned previously). Out on the front lawn, I set up a little shrine with offerings and read the following prayer out loud at sunrise:
A Memorial Day Prayer for Heru-hekenu and the Akhu
Dua Heru-hekenu! O Son of Bast,
You Who travel with Ra through the Duat,
You Who journey on the night barque through the land of Wesir,
You Who preserve the body and protect the soul,
may You preserve and protect all those who have died in service:
our soldiers, our police and rescue workers, our heroes.
May You bring light for their eyes.
May You bring breath for their nostrils.
May You bring fragrant unguents for their bodies and their kas
and every good thing so that they might live.
Great solider, Master of Protection,
may You spread Your wings out above the living as well,
may You bless the ones who put themselves in danger,
fighting to protect all that they love.
May their bodies be strengthened,
may their hearts be pure,
and may they return home safely at the end of their service,
until the day when all the lands are forever at peace.
May there be rest and healing for all the veterans
and great glory for the courage that they have shown.
An offering which the King gives to Heru-hekenu, Son of Bast, at the shrine of Saut-sen Iryt Ra: a thousand of bread, a thousand of barbecue, incense, flame, and cool water for the honored dead of this nation, true of voice. Dua Akhu! May you give your protection and guidance to those who fight today and to all the veterans who have served in the past. May you be remembered for as long as the stars shine in the sky. And may you live.
Dua Heru-hekenu! Dua Akhu! Nekhtet!
Afterward I sang “Taps” and then sat in meditation until the incense had burned down.
It was unusual for me, because I don’t usually do anything to celebrate Memorial Day. But this year it seemed right and necessary, as a sort of follow-on to the celebrations of the Beautiful Feast of the Valley. And it was a lovely moment, sitting outside in the early morning, in the cool air touched by the scent of sandalwood incense, feeling a sense of things in harmony, of ma’at in this kind of remembrance.
Heru-hekenu may seem an odd (and obscure!) choice of deity to petition in a ritual like this. It was an intuitive jump at first, but upon further thought it made reasonable sense. As mentioned in the prayer, Heru-hekenu does sail on the night barque with Ra. (In the picture at the head of this page, Heru-hekenu is the hawk-headed figure standing directly behind the ram-headed Ra.) The journey of the sun into darkness and ultimately to regeneration and renewal is also the journey of the deceased; thus Heru-hekenu could be seen in the role of a funerary protector and assistant. According to the Lexikon der ägyptischen Götter und Götterbezeichnungen, He lights the way for the ba of the dead, and He does actually receive offerings in a hotep di Nisut formula (although I’ve written my own here, not having tracked down the original yet). His name is also another indicator — Heru-hekenu can mean “Heru of the unguent” as well as “Heru of praises.” Just as oils and lotions were used to protect the living body against the ravages of a hot, harsh climate, so they were also used to protect the body of the deceased, preparing it for the tomb and its former inhabitant for the journey through the afterworld. Thus Heru-hekenu would be a protector of both the living and the dead.
So He seems to have a somewhat more liminal nature than some of the other forms of Heru. Yet he also has that warrior quality, as well as a very primal-seeming raptorial nature, which fits in well with one associated with battle and soldiers. It seemed appropriate, in the end, to call upon Him in remembrance of those who have fought and died for their country, and to ask Him to guard our living heroes as well.
A close-up of the statue I’m currently using for Heru-hekenu. The double crown is appropriate — He appears with it in reliefs from per-Bast — and the pots are about as close as one’s likely to find to perfume jars. The necklace draped around Him is one that I made for Him, and the red tissue-paper poppy came from a veterans’ organization.
Dua Heru-hekenu! Nekhtet!
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May 28, 2010
Posted in Netjeru, Poetry and Prayers, The Wild Sky
at 7:50 am
by Shefyt
Last night, driving home from the gym after work: the windows rolled down in the unexpected coolness of the evening, honeysuckle perfume like the scent of incense layering the air, the horizon ahead dark with stormclouds, like driving into a steadily deepening twilight — and suddenly, Tefnut, lynx-eyed and watchful, powerful, awesome in Her presence in the gathering storm. I’d never thought of Her in connection to storms before — typically that association belongs to Set — but there She was. Maybe it was something about the closeness of the storm: the very low, dark clouds, the cool, flower-scented breeze presaging a humidity-breaking change of weather, the looming shadow of the approaching rain.
And as the storm broke it made me think of the meeting of the Distant Goddess and the one Who seeks Her, of Tefnut and Shu (or Mehyt and Anhur). The wrathful, growling Goddess, the charged air finding its release in the flashes of lightning, like the flash of fiery claws, and then the slow quieting toward Her pacification as the rain falls — the thunderstorm as an encounter, as a love story, both intimate and glorious.
Dua Tefnut! O You Who roar, You are in the living breath of the wind, You are in the night-black shadows beneath the trees, You are in the burning river of gold, the lightning that splits the gray-green sky, turning it to amethyst and rose. Your feet are upon the earth while Your mighty voice resounds in heaven. O Tefnut, release Your waters! May You be at peace, may You come in peace for me — may Shu’s love pacify You, may the cool water and the bright flame pacify You, O Beautiful One Who lives in beauty, O Terrifying One Who is soothed by love.
Dua Tefnut! Nekhtet!
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May 4, 2010
Posted in Poetry and Prayers, Stalking Beauty, Thoughts and Reflections
at 11:35 am
by Shefyt
Hard rain yesterday, although fortunately it had eased off each time I had to go outside; a hard month last month, although not as hard as it was last year at this time. I don’t know why I tend to go off the rails in April. Maybe it’s all that energy, pushing outward to grow, to bloom, that exacerbates my tendencies toward anxiety and overwhelm and leaves me not knowing what to do with myself, with my life.
At any rate, here we are in May, and it’s the beginning of a new Kemetic month as well — the second month of the season of Shomu, the season of heat and harvesting. Only three more months until New Year and Retreat. Soon I’ll start going through my journal for the last year, looking at the patterns, the questions asked and the answers that I may have received without even realizing it.
What does it mean, to live? That question was posed to me the other day by Nefertem, god of the unfolding lotus blossom, lord of perfumes. Of the Seven Arrows of Bast, He’s the one I’ve struggled the most to feel connected to. So to honor Him, and to try to foster that connection, I’ve begun reading a prayer to Him each morning, the first thing I do when I get out of bed.
Nefertem, You are awakening.
Nefertem, may I awaken.
Nefertem, You are awake.
Nefertem, may I be awake.
Nefertem, You arise.
Nefertem, may I arise.
Nefertem, You go forth into the world in beauty.
Nefertem, may I go forth into the world in beauty.
O great Creator, may I see Your beautiful face.
May I live. May I live. May I live. May I live.
What does it mean when I pray, “May I live”? What am I asking for? Walking through my days, doing my work, praying to my Gods, is there any time when I’m not alive? Or is it just that I forget, closed up breathless inside the shell of myself, tensed against the twin pressures of fear and blooming?
Yesterday and today, I read my prayer for Nefertem. And yesterday and today, the gardenia on my desk at work, which has limped along for the last year with shriveled buds and yellowing leaves, has put forth white flowers, perfuming the air.
Dua Nefertem! Nekhtet!
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December 8, 2009
Posted in Netjeru, Poetry and Prayers, Stalking Beauty
at 11:15 am
by Shefyt
After yesterday’s post on the gifts of Set’s storms, a thought occurred to me, although it’s actually rooted in a realization from the day of the snowfall itself: from standing in the shrine room, having just offered candle flame and rum-flavored iced tea to Set, gazing out the window at the darkening afternoon, and being struck with the sudden beauty of it, the gentle and relentless descent of the snow, the world beneath the clouds possessed of a profound stillness and yet also of a dynamic energy, a subtly electric tension.
There’s a danger in constructing a false dichotomy where Set is all wildness and chaotic upheaval and Heru is all beauty and transformed, purified order. Like the Taoist yin-yang symbol, even though They’re opposites, They also contain the seeds of each other. Heru has His wildness too, in the tearing claws, in the battering power of unfettered wings, in the unleashed might of the King as warrior, like a lion in the carnage of battle. And Set is beautiful in and of Himself, not merely for what He gives way to. “You are beautiful,” I told Him in the shrine room that afternoon, awed. It seemed to amuse Him. So here are a few more words on the beauty of Set.
Praising the Beauty of Set
O Set, I praise Your great and implacable beauty:
in the looming majesty of the thunderhead,
in the shivery hush of snow falling at twilight,
in the lightning-edged whorls of the fractal,
in the wind-carved austerity of the desert at high noon,
in the fierce and subtle glitter of its sands.
Your ecstasy is in the howl of passion, of exertion,
in the stretch of the body driven beyond all rational limits,
in the hot, animal confusion of desire and of war.
Your rage is in the cold, burning weight of the iron blade,
perfect in balance, the shuddering slip of the faultline,
the swift-swelling wave that rises, curling and smooth, to block out the sky.
In all of Your wonder and Your terror, You are beautiful:
You are all things exotic and rare and deeply strange.
Your hands are scented with myrrh, with frankincense,
with perfumes from far-off lands that have not yet been named.
Son of Nut, Your smile is the nuclear flare of an exploding star,
expending its light and heat without limit into the black void of space.
You are the crocodile-jawed storm of destruction,
You are the raw shout of defiance snatched away by the teeth of the gale,
and You are the defiance that remains sealed within the heart, silent and pure.
In Your two hands, You hold despair and hope.
In all things, O Set, You are beautiful.
Dua Set! Nekhtet!
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