How many moons have crossed the sky in my wanderings through this world of illusion? They stretch into infinity it seems. How unobtainable you appear, orb of pearl and dreams and object of fascination. A line from one of my favourite films comes to mind. Bette Davis implores Paul Henreid not to ask for more in their fraught relationship:
“Don’t let’s ask for the moon. We have the stars.”
Indeed. Luna has been imbued with much mystery and longing. It’s been used as an instrument to corral time. Time, how it eludes, drives to distraction. It weighs heavy and infused with regret and expectation. I carry the past and future within the chalice of the present. What a responsibility! All that’s been written and read about you Anpu can be put back on the shelves of the Akashic Library. I’m at a point where such knowledge can’t explain who you really are. You surprise me with another aspect that’s maddening and alluring. Continue reading
‘Deep breasted Ge, how exalted are thee above all.’ The words still echo in my mind. We stood in the holy of holies offering our service and fidelity to this most ancient of beings, Creatrix, Destroyer and one of the protogenoi (primordial ones). I was someone else then, not gone but slumbering. Waiting to be called once more. What sights I have seen and experienced as to render me almost speechless. My life story may appear rather bizarre at times. From priestess, healer, Sumerian alchemist and now storyteller. There are more but those lives are not yet ready to be revealed. It is the same for the path to the mysterious ancient Egyptian god Anpu. The Opener teases me mercilessly it seems. My senses are unsettled after witnessing the death of that star. I’ve watched many pass through the gates of death but still my heart feels their pain and sadness every time. The secrets are unravelling like an endless ball of yarn. These thoughts envelop me in a mist, so much so that the man’s approach is missed. His voice carries across the space between us. I turn and see a mature, bearded man with long curly, dark hair. His eyes are bright and filled with a calm attentiveness. There is a hare sitting patiently by his side. Continue reading
My search for Anpu has lead to this place, mist filled and echoing with the cries of birds. It gives me a chance to sit down and rest my feet. Just need to make sure there aren’t any crocodiles around. Not that I’m scared of meeting Sobek, however brief the encounter! I sense another presence, friend rather than foe it appears. Djehuty. In my blind pursuit of the Walker between the Worlds I’ve forgotten that he’s been with me every step of the journey. How remiss of me. His hand and wise words have guided my pen and feet to Khmunu, City of the Eight, renamed by the ancient Greeks as Hermopolis Magna. Located in the Hare Nome, 15th Nome of Upper Egypt. Cult centre of Djehuty, god of wisdom and learning. The Hare and Ibis together in the place of Creation. How apt. Continue reading
“I dream in sepia of sun-baked wraiths and parched landscapes. Ever present and melancholy they crowd round my gate, wanting release from a place the world has forgotten.”
The old man’s words haunt me. They can apply equally to both the living and dead. I find myself once more in arid lands, must be something about deserts that keeps drawing me back. This landscape speaks of freedom as well as harshness. It’s drenched in a covering of faded gold. Wasn’t always so. Yet, the old man survives and even seems to flourish. As do the people in the nearby settlement. The noise of its activity drifts over to us. I can hear its story, wave upon wave of memories, joy, and sadness. It’s alive only due to the people who inhabit the space within its walls. They give it purpose, the will to endure century after century. I can sense only light within its heart, which is glowing with warmth. Of course the people suffer hardships in their daily lives, that’s inescapable. It feels as if the settlement protects those within its care and lightens their burdens. I was drawn here for a particular purpose it seems. Continue reading
Image from Pixabay
My encounter with the Moon Priestess has left me in a sombre mood. Memories and stories are such an integral part of our lives. Without them we are but a collection of elements moving blindly through this world. The web of life shimmers like spun moonlight, I can see it all around me. The Fates weave and cut the threads of our existence creating an eternal symphony. If I allow myself to be drawn into the dance now all will be lost. The path my feet follow is set apart. It’s my destiny to seek, to collect, to bless and mourn over the mundane, mysterious and profound stories of all and one. It’s my duty to speak the names of the lost so that they may find a safe harbour. Time has no meaning for the creatures of this place. They ebb and flow with the breath of the forest, emerging from the secret places of the earth. Only in true silence can I hear the voices of the Old Ones. They whisper words of sublime beauty and sadness. Their sighs and admonitions do not tell of defeats only but of renewal. How easily we forget to listen to our hearts. Didn’t the ancient Egyptians beseech their hearts not to betray them in the Weighing of the Heart ceremony? I’m at the heart of the forest now, its rhythm is deep and resounds beyond the boundaries of this ancient place. Sunlight pours through the green canopy and bathes everything in a soft, golden glow. An impulse takes hold to feel the heartbeat, it draws me down to the forest floor. With eyes closed I sense the surge of life flowing around me.
Image from Pixabay
My body becomes host to a myriad of creatures moving through its fertile, moist soil. Seedlings impatiently push through seeking the light. Insect larvae sleep the sleep of the unborn and deep-rooted trees anchor themselves within me. The passage of time is slow, measured in centuries. I am no longer myself but something greater, older. Where does the story end and I begin? The forest quivers as the great bear god makes his presence known. He moves like a shadow, stopping only to gaze at the body lying on the ground. Eyes like a star lit night gaze down at me, unreadable, old, so old. He whispers tales of beginnings and endings, of cave bears and transformations. I travel with him to places in this and other worlds. The Great Bear takes a breath in and turns to look at the approach of the Faerie Queen. They both gaze at the remnants of my human self, now scattered into air, fire, water, earth and ether. The magical alchemy will ensue soon. I ask the Queen ‘are you real or a dream?’, she only smiles in reply. A hand gently touches my back and turns me over. A face covered in foliage smiles down at me. Green Man, Green Man, what brings you here? It seems that first encounter in the forest pool was not to be our last. He touches a finger to my forehead, lips, throat and heart. Do I understand what that means? No, not yet. meaning will only come later. I wake up from a deep sleep clutching an acorn in my right hand. The story isn’t at an end, that’s their gift to me. The acorn is safely tucked away in my bag. The air feels strange, looking around I can see why. Fly agaric is littering the forest floor all around me. Faerie mushrooms.
My journeys through the desert region of this strange country have been bizarre and often disquieting. Djinns, vampires, ancient Khemetic gods and alchemists emerged from the wastes to divert me from my destination. Whatever that may be. I’m an explorer and collector of stories, occasional shaman and dimension traveller. These days you have to be multi-skilled, makes you more employable apparently. Still not sure whether the alchemist was my old teacher. Many unfriendly entities occupy this region and have trapped the unwise and unwary over thousands of years. They use our fears and desires against us. Lucky for me Anpu turned up when he did. I have to be mindful of my thoughts, they seem to take on a life of their own as soon as I’ve created them. A family skill and one that’s made us valuable to many unsavoury and power-hungry characters. Ah well. This forest is a welcome relief from the searing heat of yesterday. It has quite a special atmosphere and reminiscent of the ancient temples of the Goddess. I’m a devotee of Inanna but revere the deities of other lands. These temples were open to the elements, in fact were the elements and natural world. It seems like destiny that one of Her priestesses and I have met in this place. Yet, she seems more than a priestess. So familiar, so familiar. We’ve met before but I can’t seem to remember where. She’s offered to tell me her story, what a privilege. Anyway, my pen is ready, none of your electronic devices for me. A pen and notebook are easier to carry. Continue reading