|
KEMETIC ANIMISM: SOME
PERSPECTIVES OF A POSTMODERN KEMETIC PAGAN by
Shin "Solo" Cynikos Drifting
through the shadows of the museum
downtown, I gaze at faces etched in stone, thousands of years old.
Eventually I
find what--more like who--I am looking for. Etched into the stela he
stands in
profile, canine head on a human body, one hand raised to the god of the
earth,
Geb. I pause, breathless, peering through the glass at that familiar
image,
lost in my own thought processes. To me, Wepwawet has always
represented a very
complex set of ideas, beliefs and thoughts. To say that this is the
result of
one pagan's relationship with his patron deity would only be telling
part of
the story, because I am more than just a pagan, and Wepwawet is more
than just
my patron deity. If I could pick one word, just one, to describe this
complex
set of ideas, this one word would be Canine. But in order for you to
understand
just why I picked "Canine" over other words I could have used, I
should take some time to explain just who and what Canine is. This
concept can
be many things, depending on just what facet of my life I happen to be
explaining. Breaking something that complex down into the explainable
isn't an
easy task, and in the end it can never be fully covered in the scope of
a
single essay. My hope is to perhaps convey the idea that just as the
world
around us changes, so too does our spirit world, and even our
understandings of
spirit and our interactions with it. As I stare through the glass at
the image
of my patron, something else is taking place here, something more than
one
pagan's spiritual reverence for the divine. What one is seeing here is
a
bridging of the gap, a meeting between the old and the new, a diamonic
hiccup
in reality where two representations of one vast whole converge. One
honors the
other, the past feeds into the present, and the transformative flow
continues.
Here in this essay, I hope to detail briefly my experiences with this
rhythm,
how it has affected me, and how similar flows can effect others in
their
relationships with the spiritual and the animistic. Ever
since I was real small I was always fascinated
with ancient "And
so the neteru (gods) entered into
their bodies, in the form of every sort of wood, of every sort of
mineral, as
every sort of clay, as everything which grows upon him (meaning earth),
in
which they had to come into being and assumed forms." This
quote is only one of many such examples of
animism in ancient Egyptian religion, but it is how these examples
manifested
in my life which brought on the deepest impacts. Wepwawet was a steady
presence
throughout my life, always watching from the very corners of life
itself, or so
it seemed to me. However, I always noted that his presence was always
the
strongest, always the most impactful during areas of initiation and
change.
Jeremy Naydler, in his book 'The Shamanic Wisdom of the Pyramid Texts',
says: "The
jackal god, in his form as either
Wepwawet or Anubis, has been described as "the Egyptian shamanic deity
par
excellence," for it is he who not only presides over the initiatory
rituals of death, dismemberment, and renewal but also provides the
"celestial sledge" (shed-shed) on which the king travels to the
sky." Those
three themes, death, dismemberment and
renewal have been ever present in my life since the very beginning,
between a
rough childhood, pulling myself out of abusive relationships, and
dealing with
chronic illness. And now, being involved in a long-distance binational
relationship for almost two years as of this writing, I am constantly
praying
that the "celestial sledge" of the modern age will always be
available, and running safely, to allow my partner and I to see each
other
until our relationship can be made legal (which, unfortunately it is
not in the
US, as we are both transgendered and of the same sex). Travel and safe
passage
are deeply important, and I always look to Wepwawet to "open the
way", or help show me how I may open it for myself. Right now my
current
goal is to work and save, so that I may have a nice savings to ensure a
smooth,
permanent safe passage to my partner's home country of Wepwawet
is Canine. A dog is a threshold
creature, whether at the threshold of one's home, or at the threshold
of life
itself. Many cultures the world over, even those who never had contact
with
each other, speak of dogs and other canines as psychopomps, or
psychopomps
associated with dogs. Wepwawet is an agent of change. So is the
Canine-archetype. All I need to do is take a look at all the myriad
breeds and
species of canine existing in this world today, let alone the wild and
the
feral breeds and subspecies, and it becomes real to me if nothing more
than on
a genetic level. Canine is Change. Canine is initiation. Wepwawet is
Canine. Waves
of nausea assault me. I feel like a cold
vice is crushing my skull, a pain that has been steadily building for
some
hours now. My vision ripples in front of me, an effect similar to a
heat
shimmer rising off of a desert road. The world begins to rotate in
strange ways
around me, and I fight down panic. I cannot panic. If I do, it will get
worse
and I will lose control. The window of opportunity will shut, and I
will be
left sobbing into a pillow in agony. I muster just enough coordination
to turn
the switch on the fan before collapsing into bed, drenched in sweat and
shaking
from the effort of just getting myself there. I roll over onto my back
and
begin the Fourfold Breath, forcing my body to calm down, training my
lungs out
of the habit of snatching shallow breaths from the pain. I'm
very used to these situations. Chronic
migraines have become a very intimate part of my existence since being
diagnosed with Lyme Disease back in 2005. They came as part of the
package
deal, and later I became to associate it as a "shaman's sickness" of
sorts. Chronic migraines would not control my life--at least, so long
as I
learned to control them. The ordeal path was not one I expected to
take, but it
seems like the unexpected is part and parcel of many shamanic
initiations. I've
learned over the years that I had no choice but
to control them. The
isolation, pain and depression that resulted if I didn't was worse, in
the end,
than facing the pain if I did. Gradually,
my body begins to calm itself. The
cool darkness of my room is soothing, and the aura in front of my eyes
produces
many interesting effects in the darkness. I pay very close attention to
it; it
tells me things, it's all part of the process. Eventually I feel my
muscles
begin to relax, the throbbing in my skull begins to set its own rhythm.
The
migraine itself has its own life, its own energy. It can be a curse or
a gift.
I whisper softly their names, and I begin to feel myself drift. It's a
different sensation than the dizzyness, a soothing sensation, like
drifting
down a lazy stream on a raft. My breathing slows, deepens. As my
eyelids droop,
the rippling of the aura begins to take shape. It almost seems to
resemble the
ripples on the surface of a river. Then I realize, that's exactly what
it is. I'm
sitting along the banks of the Slowly,
gradually my body awakens on the bed in
my room. I stretch slowly and very gingerly move my head. The pain,
miraculously, has passed. I turn to the digital clock on my nighttable
and note
that a couple hours have passed. It didn't seem like that long, but
sometimes
it seems longer than it really is. It all depends on the journey, in
the end. I
sit up, and note that the joyful tugging in my chest is still there. I
take a
deep breath, reach around the side of my bed, and grab the small red
Moleskine
notebook and pen lying on the floor. I flip it open and, feverishly, I
begin to
write. The words stream out of me like a torrent, and I find it a
couple more
hours before I am able to lay down the book again. Lewis
Spence wrote: Myth
is closely related to language, ritual,
and symbol. The ancient Egyptians believed that their language and
system of
hieroglyphic writing were given to them by their Gods, primarily Thoth,
who was
depicted as an ibis-headed man with pen in hand. Thus, reading,
writing, and
speaking the Egyptian language were understood to be sacred activities,
and in
some cases were actually understood to be rituals. The symbolic nature
of the
scribes' hieroglyphs--born out of symbols and pictographs--was seen as
the
ideal medium for the transmission of the sacred stories. Sacred
stories are still being told. They may not
be written in hieroglyphs on papyrus, but they still endure. They
endure
because the gods endure, and because there are people out there who
still look
and listen to the whole world as it speaks. It's one of the most
important
lessons that Djehuty/Thoth has taught me--is still teaching me. Not
many people
listen to the world around them anymore. Not all language and not all
writing
is the same, but all of it is important. The old sacred stories need to
survive, and new ones are always quivering on the very edge of
possibility,
just waiting to be born. Djehuty is Word. He is Inspiration. He is
Communication. He teaches me how to translate the languages of the
natural
world. Later,
after I am done writing, I decide to take
a walk. Writing for long periods always leaves me with a giddy, high
sort of
feeling, a feeling I usually need to seek some sort of grounding. I
walk out
into the backyard for a little while, take a few deep breaths of the
cool
evening air. I walk over to my favorite oak tree, the one I used to sit
under
and talk to as a small child. I feel my heartbeat steadying as I lay my
hand on
the cool bark. I imagine its roots going deep, deep into the ground,
into the
realm of Wesir/Osiris, lord of the dead and lord of all things growing.
I feel
a deep connection, a sense of comraderie. My excess energy filters down
the
tree, back into the earth, life goes back into the ground to rise
again. The
cycle continues onward. I feel the presences of my Patron, and my
Teacher close
within my mind, I feel everything around me hum and murmur and whisper
with
life. Free once more from excruciating pain, words and thoughts and
feelings
liberated from my mind, I feel as one reborn once more. It's all a part
of the
process, and despite everything, I wouldn't have it any other way. Sources: Naydler,
Jeremy. Shamanic Wisdom in the Pyramid
Texts. Inner Traditions, 2005. |