Ptah.

I’ve had an ongoing dance routine with Ptah. He’s always been a deity that I’ve had some minor interest in, but usually in how he relates back to Sekhmet. It was last summer that I began to really pay any attention to him whatsoever. We still danced though; he would appear as though at random and I would dance away with a laugh.

I don’t know if the routine has gone sour, but he’s been appearing more often recently.

It started off with just little snippets of dreams: he was just there. I would wake up from the dream where I was in a garden of his, staring at the purple flower that always holds my attention in those dreams. Sometimes there would be butterflies around the purple flower bush but always the purple flowers were the center of it all. I would wake and wonder what it was about him that seemed to bring him back into my life.

Finally, I figured it was a sort of escapism. Whenever I would wake from those dreams of the garden I’ve since begun calling the Purple Flower Place, I felt better and refreshed. I began to associate him with a sort of relaxation and peace that I couldn’t find anywhere else in my dreams.

Around Wep-Ronpet, the dreams changed. It was small things at first; nothing overt. He was just there. We weren’t in the Purple Flower Place anymore. He was wherever I happened to be. His presence reminds me a bit of the presence of Osiris, which isn’t surprising, but there’s an energetic component that Osiris lacks. In my dreams, Big O was more like a vacuum of energy. Ptah seemed to be overwhelming with it at times.

He never speaks to me in these dreams. He is always simply there. And I know that it is him either from the energy signature or because my dreaming mind fits in static iconography of his. He is unchanging: his combination djed, was, ankh scepter held in his hands, his blue cap on his head, a slight beatific smile upon his lips.

Shortly after Wep-Ronpet, I asked him to explain to me why he was around. It seemed strange that we had been doing this sort of tango together wherein I laughed and moved away and he appeared some time later. Why now? What was so important about right this moment that he needed to be everywhere? And why is it impossible for him to not say anything?

I started getting angry about all of this. I have rules you know. I have standards you know. I have a whole host of things that I put new netjeru through, rigorous things that not only include ignoring the hell out of them but also include getting pissy and miserable. I was getting upset because I couldn’t follow my usual routine: he was just there and he was just not saying anything.

I told him that if he wanted something, he needed to be clear because I can’t speak staring and silence. In a fit of pique, I looked through the entry on him on Henadology.

I got a hit when I was reading this bit on Henadology, “Hence in the ‘Memphite Theology’ itself, the ‘tongue’ (i.e., creative utterance) of Ptah is that through which “Horus had taken shape as Ptah, in which Thoth had taken shape as Ptah” (ibid., 54). That is, to the degree that Ptah’s creative utterance is prior to all the other Gods, it also renders Ptah’s identity relative, for it becomes the instrument by means of which Gods such as Horus and Thoth create themselves. The purpose of the ‘Memphite Theology’ therefore is not solely the glorification of Ptah, but rather the glorification of the all-pervading power of mind itself, through identification with which Ptah is perceived as supreme: “Thus heart and tongue rule over all the limbs in accordance with the teaching that it is in every body and it is in every mouth of all Gods, all men, all cattle, all creeping things, whatever lives, thinking whatever it wishes and commanding whatever it wishes,” (54).”

It felt to me like the important bits were about heka. And as someone who has semi-delved into the realm of becoming a hekau for Sekhmet, it made even more sense that he would be around. I felt like I could be comfortable with this, though perhaps with more direction and less staring from He of Beautiful Face. I was okay for a while.

But he kept appearing as though by random design in my dreams. I would sleep at night and he would be there. I would take a nap on the weekends and he would be there. He seemed to come up in conversation more. I would see images of him in my mind; think on things that had nothing to do with him and end up pondering the story of Ptah.

I was beginning to feel like I was being hunted.

I sit there numbly, trying to figure out what new hell my life has become. I turn to Heru-Wer and whisper, “But why Ptah?”

He sighs at me, as though I am very dense. Perhaps I am very dense. “He gets shit done, miw.”

I shelved the bit about heka. I couldn’t figure out why it would be at this moment that it would become an important part. I have been doing rites and services for Sekhmet for two years this November. My heka has undergone numerous changes during these and while I know that there is much more that I can learn, I feel like I am doing okay with it all. So why now?

I couldn’t get it out of my head though. It makes too much sense that Ptah would show up on so many levels though. I can admit that there is a certain sense here, even if I am at a loss for it.

I have long cultivated this relationship with Sekhmet. I have had moments where I have spoken with Ptah, about my relationship with Sekhmet and how it has made me feel. (He never has said anything then either.) I have had moments where I have felt very close to him because I was creating something with my two hands. And of course, I have an intense interest in how he relates back to Sekhmet in any way.

But I was comfortable with how things were. It was just this little dance. It was just me laughing and whirling away. And it was just him smiling in the background, watching as I moved away. This constant push of him in my dreams is enough to drive anyone up the wall. Or at least into a rage.

He stands there with his face made up. He is like the statuettes we see, the iconography distinctive and obvious. His shroud is tight, his hands clasping his scepter. His blue skullcap glitters in the rays of Ra’s early light.

“Why are you doing this to me? What is it about me, about now, that brings you here? I can’t handle all of this! I don’t have the spoons for anyone else. Please stop this. I am begging you to either name your costs or tell me why you are here.”

He smiles at me. It’s the smile of a teacher, amused by the student. It’s the soft lipped grin of a parent, indulging a child. It only ignites the fury in me anew and I scream, loud and piercing. I turn and the mirrors around me break into a thousand pieces, shards raining into the room. “Fuck this!”

I was very angry the other night.

I still am, in a way.

Being dream-stalked by deities is nothing new to me. It seems like every week there is a deity of some sort, or something deity related, that has come to me. During Wep-Ronpet, it was both Tutu and Ptah. Last year, it was Heru-Wer everywhere. This past January, it was Osiris who was followed by Nut. This isn’t anything new, but at least with the other deities, I had clues to jump off from.

I have no clues here.

I have nothing but his silence.

I think what makes this more frustrating is that it was his silence that I enjoyed the most. I could blather on for hours or minutes. His silence was like stepping into a cool well of water after a warm day. After the demands of my relationship with Sekhmet and the intensity of my relationships with both Heru-Wer and Hetheru, his silence was a reprieve. Now I find myself wishing he would say a single word.

In an attempt to stop worrying about it, I went through the entries of Ptah’s in The Complete Gods and Goddesses and Egyptian Mythology. I was hoping for something. A ping. A hint. A whisper. I found myself holding my breath as I went through each.

Pinch’s book was all but useless to me; a regurgitation of things I already knew. As I was going through Wilkinson though, I was reminded of the ear stela that are so often associated with Ptah. They aren’t just for Ptah, but he is always associated them in his aspect as mesedjer-sedjem. I, myself, have reached out to this particular function of Ptah, looking for assistance in the past.

As Wilkinson states, “On the perimeters of temples we also find shrines or chapels of the hearing ear which likewise served the purpose of transmitting the individual’s prayers to the deity within the temple. The god Ptah often figures in these shrines, as in the one constructed at the entrance to the great mortuary temple of Ramesses III at Medinet Habu.” I got a zing on this one, put the book down, and walked over to Sekhmet’s altar.

It started off as only a replica offering table. It morphed into a mix between an ear stela and an offering table replica.

It started off as only a replica offering table. It morphed into a mix between an ear stela and an offering table replica.

During last month’s services, I had an unbelievable need to attempt to recreate an offering table. It was very frustrating to me because I am not very good at recreating things. I finally managed something passable and while I was looking at the empty edging around the center piece, I decided to add bits that relate back to the ear stela. (My artistic skills are lacking clearly.)

When I was finished, I felt incredibly foolish about it all, but also simultaneously proud. It seemed to me that Sekhmet was more dismissive of the artistic representation. Someone mentioned that Ptah probably would have appreciated the hard work (literally hours because I am not very artistic) better. Funny; things just keep relating back to him.

This makes me wonder, based on what I read in Wilkinson, if perhaps he is around more and more because, unofficially, I invited him in. Ptah tended to relate back to these ear stela in many instances and perhaps simply by using the phrase “Hearer of Prayers” which I know I saw on a stela specific to Ptah in the past, I somehow managed to say, “hey, come on down, big boy.”

The thing is that I just don’t know. I feel like the more I delve into all of this, the more questions I come up with.

There are also his craftsman associations – I haven’t mentioned it but Khnum has been coming up more and more. And he also has craftsman associations. But this, in a way, relates back to the hit I received regarding heka and Ptah’s magnificence when it comes to creating what the hell he speaks.

I feel like I’m running around in circles.

Maybe one day I will understand it all.

The Beginning.

About a week ago, I was told that I needed to go back to the beginning in order to get some clarity on everything that has been going on lately. Mostly that divination was talking about more mundane matters, but it actually makes a lot of sense when looking through the lens of one’s personal religious shenanigans. Sometimes, looking back across the span of time is a good way in order to get a whole lot of perspective on what is currently infesting your life. So, I went back to the beginning…

Not that long after I gave in and officially embraced the idea of developing a relationship with Sekhmet, I began getting “Hetheru feels.” It was a little daunting and very worrisome for me. I wanted to be a one deity kind of gal; I didn’t want to have a multitude to be at the constant beck and call of. While one new deity doesn’t exactly equal to a “multitude,” it felt like if I added even one more to the mix, I was opening a door that wouldn’t be shut again. I wasn’t quite wrong but that is neither here nor there.

I was not interested in working with Hetheru.

Another part of the problem was that, to me, she embodied everything that I knew, deep down, I would never be. She is a deity about beauty, womanhood, sexuality, coquetry, sensuality, drinking, etc. All of the inherent qualities that we can think of when we hear the name “Hetheru” would come bouncing into my face, slapping me with my own inadequacies, and it worried me greatly that a deity like that would be interested in me.

You see, it made complete sense that Sekhmet was interested, but not Hetheru. Sekhmet’s interest wasn’t simply because I knew that we had done this song and dance before, but because I was a destructive, slow-burn kind of person. I felt like that was something that Sekhmet could both understood and respect having been in that place before. I didn’t see how this could possibly relate to Hetheru, at all. It didn’t make sense that Hetheru would be interested. My hard polytheism was showing, maybe, but the constant fear and worry I had at the idea of adding Hetheru into my personal practice was something that began eating me alive.

I quailed about this issue for a while before I gave in to temptation. There was just something about Hetheru that made me go, “okay. All right.” So, I purchased a statue and went looking around for things about Hetheru that would help us get jump started. And everything that I ended up finding about her only made my worries on the matter seem even more valid. All of the sex stuff was just getting in the way of everything else. I’m gray-ace though I didn’t realize that back then. (I hadn’t even heard of asexuality yet.) And I just kept wondering what in the world a sex goddess would want with someone with severe sexual hang ups?

Let me explain something: I thought I was broken back then. I just thought that I was severely wired backwards and incorrectly when it came to sex. I didn’t understand that there were people, like me, in the world who did not experience sexual attraction or, if they did, it was rarely. While that’s something that I recognize about myself today, it wasn’t an option then. As far as I was concerned, it just seemed incredibly strange that this sexual and sensual netjer would say, “yes, you are someone that I would like to have devoted to me.” I couldn’t understand it at all.

What was it about me that spoke to her in some indefinable way?

What was it about me that made her come to me in dreams and in divination and in random occurrences both on and off the Internet?

I began to suspect that, since I was “obviously” broken, then maybe that was the reason? At that time, it freaked me out and I thought perhaps that my freaking out was a good thing. So, I tried diligently to throw myself into a sort of loop where I worked on the things that were “broken.” The problem being that I wasn’t interested in working on those things and I had no business working on those things. Ace or not, I have had sex repulsion and that is due to sexual abuse. I thought that those elements to my sex repulsion were what I needed to work on in order to “not” be broken anymore and that was the point in Hetheru showing up.

This didn’t work out because, frankly, I wasn’t ready to look into all of that shadow work. I was not ready to even consider it. So, I ignored the sex stuff (possibly to my own detriment and possibly longer than I should have) and thought about what else Hetheru could embody. Well, she was a mom. She was a woman. She liked pretty things. She liked make up things. She liked feeling like a woman. Like, everything that makes you go, “yes, that’s a woman and she is beautiful and she loves who she is and what she looks like and that is fucking awesome” was everything that I associated with Hetheru.

So, I thought maybe I should try to be more like that?

But the thing that I have to admit to myself is that I’m not that kind of person. Make up is nice and clothes that make you feel good about yourself is okay, but I’m not really into it as much as other girls. I’ve never been that type of person. I hate putting on make up to go out somewhere and try to keep what I do wear, if I wear any, very basic. Clothes that are fitted don’t seem to fit me correctly. What it comes down to is that, basically, I am a T-shirt and jeans kind of gal. Give me a pair of sneakers over heels; give me a good book over watching You Tube videos about how to properly apply eyeliner.

It didn’t work out.

It made the things that I thought I should do that much worse.

And in the attemps to be what I thought she wanted me to be, I was causing serious issues in my relationship with her. I began to dread having her show up in dreams. I began to dread the idea of having her in my life. I began to hate her and everything about her. I just wanted her to go away and leave me alone. I packed up shop – I kept her statue and I gave her daily offerings when I finally got back into all of that, but to be perfectly frank, placing these sorts of “she wants you to be a better person; she wants you to be more like her” restrictions on our relationship wreaked not just havoc with my personal practice, but my relationship with Sekhmet as well.

It was wrong to do that.

I was looking through a very narrow lens and I wasn’t even remotely thinking that there could be a bigger picture to look for.

I was wrong.

I was very, very wrong.

I’ve gone back to the beginning and I’ve come to recognize a very real pattern here. I went into things with a preconceived notion, something that I’ve remarked previously is very dangerous and is generally not a good idea. But it’s something that I have only just realized, after being informed that I should go back to the beginning, just how dangerous it can be. My relationship with Hetheru has suffered because of those preconceived notions and it has only been in the last year, with all of the moving parts oil slicked and creaking forward, that I recognize the “bigger picture” bullshit that I’m tired of hearing about.

But there that bullshit is: bigger picture.

Looking back to the beginning, that rocky escarpment that I found myself perched upon when I tried what I thought was the point in our relationship… I have to say that it’s been a really long road. I don’t want to sound all “fate” about this, but I honestly have to ask myself if the rocky road I took on the path of our interactions wasn’t necessary in order to get me here. I went running towards Sekhmet, fleeing from the inescapable truths that I was not “good enough” for Hetheru, but kept Hetheru around anyway.

And in all the years since I first remember Hetheru appearing to me in a dream, I can see the little twists and turns that have brought me to today.

Look to the beginning, I was told, and I looked.

I found a scared newbie Kemetic, fighting through the brushes with uncertainty, poor self-esteem, and misunderstanding. That person was the person that Hetheru chose, maybe because she knew what I would end up being like one day. Or maybe it was all some predestined bunch of bullshit. In either case, I find myself awash in “Hetheru feels” again and you know what?

I’m ready for it.

 

The Lovers.

Alternate Title: Follow Your Ib

Three days ago, I had yet another in a long line of strange dreams. It’s practically par for the course. I think about 75% of my week is filled with strange dreams that don’t seem to fit with the standard dream lexicon I’ve built for myself. Deciphering these little shits has become almost a major focus in my life. It’s like, I feel as if I could succeed mightily if I could just figure out what one of the damn dreams meant or is supposed to mean. Ha.

For the most part, I try to parse out whatever meaning I possibly can during my ride into work. My mind is still fresh enough but not hyper focused enough on something else to present me with about 40 minutes of almost down time. So, I try to figure out anything I can and that’s where most of my “ah-ha” moments occur… though I will be honest that I have had a surprising limited number of “ah-ha” moments in recent months. In either case, the drive to work is both a relaxing pastime and a spurt of frustration, but no matter how much I assure myself that I will not think about what I dreamed about the night before, I invariably end up thinking about it.

While thinking about the self-cannibalism dream and trying like hell to remember what the fuck the ouroboros is supposed to stand for (still haven’t remembered and I can’t be bothered to look to be honest), I had a vision of an anatomical heart. Damn. I don’t even want to say “vision.” It wasn’t really a vision. It felt like more than that. There was a black space, which I’ve been in or seen before, and then in the center was a giant-as-fuck anatomical heart. It was just spinning slowly, like it was a coin that was slowing down after being spun really fast. It just kept rotating around and around until I finally heard a whisper, “Follow the heart.”

Well that made so much more sense!

In rapid succession, my thoughts went something like this:

My heart?

Their heart?

The SO’s heart?

The child’s heart?

A stranger’s heart?

The heart I ate?

The fractured heart that I have been working on?

The ring on my finger that is an anatomical heart?

If you’ve been paying any attention to my religious life lately, then you know that hearts are pretty important. Most of my relationship with Sekhmet can best be summed up with a picture of an ib. It seems to be a very big part of what’s been going on between us, never mind all of the recent shenanigans. But just because it’s a large part of my practice that doesn’t necessarily mean I fully understand the point behind seeing one in a dark head space and hearing the phrase, “follow the heart.”

I was quite confused.

I forgot about it because as much as I would like some damn answers, things have happened that required my attention. I went to work. I had things to do there. And then I came home and seethed inwardly for a while. Lather, rinse, and repeat.

The Lovers card from the Mary-El Tarot deck.

The Lovers card from the Mary-El Tarot deck.

This morning, I pulled my daily card because, eh why not. I honestly don’t know why I bother anymore because nine times out of ten, it just causes more arm flailing and makes it that much harder to figure out what the fuck is happening. I was totally unprepared for what I pulled because mostly I have been getting cards like Strength and Death. This morning, I got the Lovers.

I’m not a huge fan of this card, mostly because it’s telling me that a choice that I need to make and I need to make that choice based on my heart. I liked the card even less this morning since it only made me recall that moment in the car, when I could see darkness all around and there was a giant swirling fucking anatomical heart and the whispered words, “Follow the heart.”

Maybe not quite a “clue-by-four” but kind of appropriate all things considered.

The problem is that I don’t know what I’m supposed to be listening to or even what specifically in regards to.

The Tower from the Radiant Rider-Waite deck

The Tower from the Radiant Rider-Waite deck

There is just so much going on in my life recently. I have honestly felt beset on every side. I think I spend hours upon hours at a time, wishing and hoping that I could just run away. I feel less like I’m stuck between Scylla and Charybdis and more like I’ve been crushed flat by a thousand tons of rocks, wondering if someone will come over with a fireplace bellows and push me back into shape.

I think I’m more at the Tower than at the point where I need to follow my heart.

I know that there are a ton of things that I’ve been sitting on that I should do in order to benefit both myself and my family. However, I’m actually at a moment of complete stasis. I can’t move in one direction or another. I keep weighing the consequences of each. I know what my heart is telling me – I’ve always at least been able to hear it – but the idea of actually following through frightens me more than anything else.

What I see in my heart frightens the shit out of me because there are so many unknown possibilities and I just… I feel as though I cannot take that chance.

I understand, to a degree, why the need to follow one’s heart is important. I also understand, to a degree, why some people have made the best choices in this way. But I’m too on the hedge. I need to ensure that I truly am seeing all of the options from every angle. This has been a huge problem for me for a very long time, but after 32 years, I honestly don’t know if I could possibly quit now.

But perhaps that is the point in all of this: kick my ass into gear and get me paying attention to the deep part of myself that is talking, the part that needs to be heard and listened to. And if that is the case, then maybe more than “follow the heart” would be useful here. Perhaps something that tells me how to get over the heart-crushing, body-paralyzing anxiety would be a good idea.

The World from the Wild Unknown deck

The World from the Wild Unknown deck

I think what worries me the most about all of this is the same old shtick: I know the end result or at least what the end result is supposed to be. The thing is that I just don’t know how in the fuck I’m supposed to go about it because it’s not just walking through the jungle without a map, but also how to break through my own personal failings or, maybe not failings, but like the programming I’ve been built with.

If I fail at this, it’s not just me that pays the price. I’ve always gone into things under the impression that others would pay for my mistakes. But now, it’s actually true. I have a family to consider. I have to take care of them and their needs throughout all of this. In some instances, I know full well what my heart, my ib, is telling me but I just don’t see how I can take that chance with two people who trust me the way that they do in the mix.

“But Sat, just trust in the gods! Have faith!”

The problem there is that I’ve done that. I have absolutely been there and done that; I got shot with the T-shirt cannon for fuck’s sake. And I’m sorry, but I can’t just blindly follow. I need more than just, “do the thing,” to get my ass in gear. I need a huge neon sign with flashing lights and hymns praising my beauty. I need to my smashed in the face with a piece of luggage falling from the sky before I can even consider the idea of trusting them to that level again.

I think I get the point but I just can’t get with the program on a faint glimmer of possibilities.

The Constellation of Rebirth.

I feel like I live in a world surrounded by my own bewilderment. (As someone pointed out to me recently, I clearly chose a very accurate blog name.) As bewildered as I am, I am also very tired, very worn out, and above all else, very much in the middle of a full blown arm flail.

I’m just really tired of it all.

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A few months ago, I started getting a lot of hits about rebirth. Personal divination aside, it seemed like the word was haunting my every move in both my waking life and my sleeping life. I suspect this related back to the river. I kind of figured the river would have something to do with going through a sort of transformation, so it wasn’t really a huge deal all things considered.

The thing about rebirth is that, usually, it’s warranted in my experience. It’s something that we, as human beings, have a need to go through periodically. It’s not quite a reset, so to speak, but more like an evolution. Maybe it’s like shedding skin, like snakes do. We’re still technically who we were before the process began but at the end of it all, we’re just a little bit newer, a little bit different than we were at the outset.

Looking at myself, I felt it was about time to shed some skin.

I started seeing a lot of star and galactic imagery on my dash after the river fiasco, but it wasn’t wholly shocking or anything. Stars seem to be a pretty big motif on Tumblr, but the thing was that it just seemed to come on a little too strongly. Like, blogs that wouldn’t normally reblog things of that nature were reblogging things of that nature. I created a series of snarky tags to keep track of the happenings. Around the same time, I began reading My Heart, My Mother by Alison Roberts in depth, with highlighter for all of the interesting bits and all.

The star imagery started to pick up and then, I got to the chapters about Nut in MHMM, which seemed to kind of coincide with the star imagery slowing down. Synchronicity and a keen awareness of such things made me aware of this; believing that seeing some star pictures on a computer screen doesn’t necessarily correlate with one’s religious life prevented me from doing anything about it.

Then the dreams began.

I am very in tune with my dreams. I know what a typical dream scape, for me, happens to be. I know that this is not the case for everyone, but it’s something that I worked very hard on over the years. As a teenager, I was very interested in dream interpretation, which is partially why I created such an in depth dream lexicon. It is based on this that I know when I am dreaming and when I am Dreaming. I was definitely Dreaming.

It started with a false door, which I seemed to believe would be an excellent addition to my akhu altar. After getting sucked through the false door and having to battle zombies (I don’t fucking know, man; you tell me), I re-thought that idea and have since jettisoned it into the sun. I have to say that I think it was going through the door that started all of this.

And it makes a lot of sense, though. Rebirth and transformation aside: you have to have a starting point. And as we know from ancient Egypt, false doors were a way to maintain a link between the gods and the deceased with the living on earth. It makes sense that everything would start at a door and even more sense that the beginning of my own rebirth cycle would be the very thing that was needed to maintain the link with the Duat. It makes a lot of sense, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.

I got sucked into Nut’s mouth. Her face was wrought in gold and her eyes were on mine. I watched as her mouth opened up and I got swallowed into the deep maw. I don’t remember much after that except that it was dark for a while. (No chewing; no halitosis; no tongue.) I woke up wondering what the hell that was supposed to symbolize…

But learned soon enough because MHMM ended up going, hour by hour, through the Book of Night. The book seems to indicate that I was at hour 2 and this is regarding the renewal of the body. After reading about the first hour, which I wonder if that correlates to either getting thrown into the river or going through a false door (with no idea specifically how it may relate, if at all), I have to admit that all of this sounds suspiciously like an act of renewal, regeneration, transformation, and rebirth.

Knowing what the plot is about is all well and good, but it didn’t really help to explain the goal beyond, “rebirth.”

Then I ate a heart.

Khaleesi jokes aside, this dream made me realize that something was really going on and I should probably pay attention. I was in a gold room with a red, velveteen curtain and I was sitting cross legged in front of it. There was a gold plate with a bloody heart in front of me. I looked blankly ahead and put it into my mouth. I ate the entire thing.

I’ve thought about whose heart it could have been – mine, the gods, some random stranger’s, etc – a million times but still no answers. I keep coming back to the part in MHMM prior to entering the Book of Night section when the author is discussing the Ancestor Ritual. There is a section of that ritual in which a bull’s heart is provided as an act of renewal and vitality. In that part of the ritual, the provided heart is given to Heru and it is through this ritual act that the son has truly become one with his father, taking on the epithet Bull-of-His-Mother to symbolize that he has taken the place of his father in all things.

Jokingly, I decided I had clearly been given the epithet Bull of His Mother. As far as epithets go, it’s not a really bad one, but it doesn’t really explain the point behind any of this. Well, to be honest, none of it really explains what the hell is happening.

Everything began to get hazy and disconnected. Everything was all pointing to rebirth but nothing was telling me what the point in the rebirth was; I was getting really frustrated.

I had dreams about Hetheru. I dreamed about the gold room with the red curtain, only this time someone in a shiny triple atef crown was there and I was kneeling in front of them. I dreamed about Heru-Wer and Sekhmet. But all of the dreams were disjointed and I knew that they had to get added to the “this is probably actually happening even if you are denying it all” list but that didn’t mean I was happy about it.

As if not understanding my dreams wasn’t bad enough, my divination attempts kept pointing back to the rebirth and transformation theme, but nothing was clear. I felt like I couldn’t trust a damn thing that I was reading.

What frustrated me the most, though, was that I couldn’t get a bullet pointed list of what to expect or what to do. My dreams were hazy and painful – everything ended up making me feel worse inside as though I was bleeding internally and no doctor could help me fix the destruction wrought on the inside.

It was like a 100-piece puzzle that I had only 20 pieces for and none of them were lining up. As if things weren’t already hellacious enough to me, my favorite band (Fall Out Boy) came out with a new CD that I was finally able to purchase. I began getting those sort of mysterious pings deep in my heart from various songs, things that make you sit up and notice.

I began to feel less like the snake that was shedding its skin and more like the husk it was shedding. I began to feel dried out and used up. I was/am always tired and always cranky and always freaked out that I’m making everything up. I feel as if I am on the verge of a catastrophic collapse, that moment when the bridge supports fail and everything goes crashing under the disinterested hand of gravity.

I feel more in tune with snake skin, the shed remnants of a life’s totality, than I do with anyone or anything around me.

And above all, I feel so very alone.

Constellations

I can feel the constellations like wounds upon the skin, bloody and raw. (Image by Annaheim Kreiter.)

I’ve looked back over and over again. The pinpricks of light are clear to me now and I can see the outline, the shape of the constellation that I am supposed to become. I think I understand to a point what has been happening but I couldn’t be sure.

I have moments of such intense emotional backlash from all of this, even though it doesn’t seem like much to an outsider. But that’s the thing: when you are being forced to change on a fundamental level, when the gods are pushing you to points well past your usual endurance, it doesn’t matter what the method or the mode of those pushes may appear to look like to an outsider. They still hurt the person that is going through them.

And I hurt.