December 20, 2011

Ten Days of Joy (2011): Day Nine

Posted in Ten Days of Joy at 9:03 pm by

Today was not only the ninth of the Ten Days of Joy; it was also the festival of the Procession of Bast, a sort of lead-in to tomorrow’s festival of Bast Guards the Two Lands, I suppose. To celebrate, I walked down to the lake bridge at lunch, looking for signs of Her presence. And I found:

  • wind and water and the wild geese winging to rest
  • thoughts on the nature of longing and love
  • the sudden shining-forth of Her son, Heru-hekenu, like all the stars in the sky, and then the rest of the Seven Arrows, loving and mighty, protective
  • a song

And joy. Always joy.

Hail and praise to Bast and Her Arrows! Nekhtet!

February 14, 2011

The breath of the Great Ram

Posted in Netjeru, The Wild Sky at 10:20 pm by

Another extraordinary sky this morning, a fleece-soft blanket of orange-rose drawn across half the heavens, patterned in cloud bands and wisps of vapor, shifting later to become the crisp blue clarity of a sunny near-spring day. The snow has already drawn back in places to reveal damp earth and flattened grass, a hint of yielding underfoot as the ground begins to thaw, and one can feel life force starting to move, the grip of winter’s stasis gradually weakening. This evening the wind has picked up sharply, blowing with fierce exuberance, and in the moving air, in the excitement and gathering energy of spring’s promise, the Great Ram tosses His head and ramps, exulting in the vigor of His own surging energy.

In my efforts to deepen my connections with my various deities, I’ve been experimenting with setting a monthly focus. The traditional Kemetic calendar dedicates each month to one or two Gods, but the relationship between God(s) and month and among the Gods themselves has been obscure to me. (My guess is that it reflects some balance of regional or political influence specific to the ancient Two Lands.) For my own personal practice, then, I’ve selected a God or group of Gods that mesh with either my experience of the month in question or my special relationships within the Kemetic pantheon.

The God of this month is Heryshef; I made offerings on His festival (which is definitely becoming a regular and favorite event), and I plan to honor Him again at the full moon this Friday. This list of monthly Gods is very much a work in progress — Heryshef is the first one I’ve celebrated, but He certainly has been making His presence (and His appropriateness) felt!

Tonight, guided by Bast, I made spontaneous offerings of flame, incense, and cool water to Her Seven Arrows, and Heryshef was there as well, his image anchoring the back of the shrine while Nefertem’s bouquet of flowers held the front.

O beautiful Ram Who lives in beauty, Whose breath is the wind that stirs the trees, Whose face gazes down from amidst the clouds, Whose hooves tread the icy snowmelt into fertile mud, may You bring life for us all! Dua Heryshef! Nekhtet!

May 4, 2010

A prayer for Nefertem

Posted in Poetry and Prayers, Stalking Beauty, Thoughts and Reflections at 11:35 am by

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!

September 25, 2009

Lakeside thoughts

Posted in Parks and Rivers, Thoughts and Reflections at 9:47 am by

I went down to the lake at lunchtime yesterday, to sit and watch the reflections of the willows, the sun, and the passing clouds, to drop leaves into the water and watch them turn in the slow, eddying currents.

Sometimes patience is so hard. Taking time is so hard. It seems as if it should be easy, just living, just letting things come. I know that there are ways to rest, even while in motion, but somehow, far too often, I don’t.

This week has been about finding that rest: playing with the new kittens, sitting and reading in the evenings (more pleasure reading than I’ve done all summer!), doing the one thing that just has to be done each day. This week has been about kindness to myself. And I think I’m starting to feel the fruits of that kindness: a little more clarity, the feeling that I might be able to start writing in earnest again.

Tonight I’ll pour water for Khonsu, beneath the waxing moon, and for the Seven Arrows of Bast, in thanks and in prayer.

Dua Khonsu! O Shining One, Great Healer, may You watch over me.

Dua Bast! Beautiful Mother, may I rest peacefully in Your embrace.