Archive for the ‘Pagan Blog Project 2013’ Category

I’d been doing really, really well.

Then, last Sunday, it hit. The internal systems-freeze, the molasses of mental shut-down. A numbness of the heart, an inexplicable exhaustion of the spirit.

Of course, I fought it. This is not a new experience for me, and I am well-equipped with a veritable garage of tools. I know how to best stay afloat in the black sea of depression; I’ve gone through the winterly cycle of SAD (seasonal affective disorder) for over a decade. I’m an old hand at the game.

… but nothing worked; nothing helped. I moved like the undead and barely had enough energy to keep breathing and blinking. My partner rose to the occasion like the blessing he is and led me through enough mundane activities to get me to, albeit only a little, reboot and re-engage.

I fumbled for my phone and read interesting things to get my synapses to start firing again. (I read this and this, if you were wondering.) I stared at my hands, and then over at my colorful shrine, then at the dogs who were being obnoxious and cute.

The heavy yoke of SAD and other forms of depression is nothing to sneeze at, invisible as it may be. I consider myself a fairly self-aware and mindful individual with a decent amount of practice in coping with and getting through cyclical depression, and still I am not at all surprised when I get knocked on my ass as I did last weekend. There’s no insta-fix. As capable as I might be sometimes, I am far from immune.

And so, the title of this post has layers: the obvious for literal darkness, the shortened daylight of winter that inspires the body to trip over its own serotonin production and faceplant. I am, in fact, so sensitive to the presence of sunlight that my mood will frequently shift gears after sunset, even in the summer when I’ve soaked in plenty of daytime radiance.

The second layer is the feeling of darkness that accompanies my experience of depression. There is no light, no spaciousness, no clarity. It is heavy and close-pressed and dark, like black velvet layering the air. My headspace is so closely keyed to my physical environment that the external, atmospheric darkness becomes internalized, subconsciously persistent no matter how many paltry indoors lights may be turned on. What helps me partially dispel that internalized darkness are lightbulbs that mimic daylight colors and, most powerfully, a good fire in the hearth.

The third layer, however, is the mythos of the night. And this is where the contradictions arise, the sharp contrast between SAD and my love of nighttime, between my mother goddesses Who are largely nocturnal and my punctual mood-crash after sunset. Nebt-het (Nephthys), a lady of shadows and twilight and the long, quiet nights spent mourning. Hethert-Nut (Hathor-Nuit), the very sky itself at all times of day or night, but most especially that glittering, fathomless expanse of infinite space. These are my Mothers, and I am most assuredly not a bright and burning solar creature… but my health and my heart are yet tied to the sun and its presence, and more mythologically, to two solar deities in particular, each of Whom can take the role of Eye of Ra: Sekhmet and Ma’ahes. Never truer has been the phrase “there is no darkness without a light.”

Depression may not be innately spiritual, but I can’t deny the parallels between my night/day cycles and my affiliations with nighttime and daytime deities. And, while knowing benevolent nighttime gods does not miraculously cure my depression, it does make the weight of darkness a little easier to bear when I know that, just past the closing shadows, there are stars shining.

Last year’s second D post was on Deity.

The djed pillar is an emblem of stability and support and is one of the most common symbols of ancient Egypt, after the ankh and the udjat (the Eye of Horus). It has been thought to represent a pillar made from reeds or corn sheaves, a tree, and/or the spine of a bull or of Wesir (Osiris) (Who has been called “the Bull of the West”). As a reed-pillar, it may have been associated with fertility or good harvests; as a tree, it could refer back to any of the sacred trees in a largely treeless nation; and as Wesir’s spine, it harkens to the eternal stability of the dead king’s rule in His kingdom. As an extension of this, the djed pillar can also indicate the strength, stability, and duration of a human king’s reign.

The djed has been linked to three gods: Ptah, craftsman and creator; Sokar, falcon-headed god of darkness; and Wesir, king of the dead. Though its association is primarily with Wesir in modern-day interpretations, one of Ptah’s epithets is “the noble djed,” and He has been shown carrying a staff that combines the djed with an ankh. However, the djed has not only symbolized Wesir’s spine but also Wesir Himself, particularly when shown with eyes and a crook and flail. Early sources also implied that the djed symbol was a pillar holding the sky up, perhaps relating it to Shu, god of wind Who holds His mother Nut, the sky, separate from His father Geb, the earth.

Raising the djed pillar was an important ritual in ancient Egypt, celebrated on different days for different gods, including Ptah, Tem, and Wesir. In particular, a festival called Heb Sed celebrated the continued reign of a Nisut (pharaoh) and symbolically renewed the Nisut, typically once he had reigned for 30 years. Not only did raising the djed pillar link the renewing monarch to Wesir Who was renewed after His death, it also symbolized the triumph of the forces of order or ma’at over the forces of chaos or isfet. Though Set cut His brother down, Wesir was reestablished as king, and Wesir’s son Heru-sa-Aset (Horus the Younger) took His place as king over the living gods; so, too, would the Nisut establish himself as rightful king over all rebels and adversaries.

In funerary settings, djed amulets were commonly placed around a mummy’s neck to lend the deceased the power to sit up like Wesir could. Djed pillars were often painted on coffins and other areas of the tomb, including literal pillars, as both symbol of support and a direct link to Wesir and His successful resurrection. Where the ankh symbolized life, the djed could partner with it to symbolize the journey of the dead through the Duat and into Wesir’s kingdom.

In modern Kemeticism, the djed can be an inspiring symbol of our own strength, support, and foundation, both in our lives and in our spiritual practices, as well as an emblem of rebirth and regeneration. Contemplating what comprises our own djeds and how we can raise the djed for ourselves – in jubilation, in renewal, in reaffirmed stability – can be both a moving and pragmatic exercise to continue to grow and develop along our chosen paths.

Sources:

• Symbol & Magic in Egyptian Art (Richard Wilkinson)
• Egyptian Mythology: A Guide to the Gods, Goddesses, and Traditions of Ancient Egypt (Geraldine Pinch)
• The Kemetic Orthodoxy Calendar (Tamara Siuda)

Last year’s first D post was on the desert.

In January, I decided I wanted to do a post here every Wednesday. When I remembered that PBP was A Thing, I chose to keep my original intention and add the Friday post to the plan. To date, I’ve actually done rather well, missing only one post this last Wednesday (I have been sick all week and Wednesday was a Very Special Day, which is another post entirely!). Not bad!

Consistency, such as that demonstrated by my regular posts here, is one of my biggest challenges… and one of the most important qualities that I want to build within myself and my spiritual practice. For myself, I am not satisfied with occasional glimpses of the divine and once-in-a-while brushes with my gods. I am not satisfied to only show up, in full presence of mind, to shrine every now and then. I want more from myself, and I want more from my spirituality, than just that – and if I want to get it, I’ve got to give it first. (Which, in the interest of full disclosure, is insanely difficult.)

And spirituality isn’t the only realm in which I’m learning the value of consistency and putting it into practice. How often have we heard the statement that practicing something consistently for a short time each day is more beneficial and effective than practicing for a longer time once or twice each week? While it’s important to factor in rest periods for recovery, whether to let muscles repair themselves or to let knowledge gained really sink in, the method of steady, gradual progress really does win the day in many cases.

All of this, of course, I only apply myself. I most certainly cannot tell anyone else whether it’s better to touch base with their gods daily or to dedicate larger portions of time less regularly; what works for me will undoubtedly not work for everyone ever. And in some cases, it’s simply more practical to reserve a healthy amount of time less often in order to really get what you want out of the experience. As always, to each their own, and it’s worthwhile to experiment and see what rhythm best suits you and your faith. Some gods may want maximum quality and be willing to wait; others may want to see us every day, regardless of how awesome we may be feeling at the time.

For myself, I really want to incorporate more consistency into my life, and writing regularly here (and on my creative blog) is my first step. I am a pretty speedy writer, and writing helps me organize my thoughts, stumble over new insights, and record what’s happening more faithfully than my fallible human memory… but, more importantly than all of that, writing makes me think. And if I want to be more consistent in my spirituality, the first step for me is to think, consistently, about what I believe and how I practice.

Last year’s second C post was on chaos magic.

Kemet – ancient Egypt – had three seasons: the inundation (Akhet), from August to November, the growing season (Peret), from December to March, and the harvest season (Shomu), from April to July. (This is markedly different from modern Egypt’s seasons, now that the Nile is now controlled; for this post, I am only discussing ancient Egypt and her seasons.)

The Appalachian mountains, where I was born and raised, have four seasons, which are familiar to most North Americans: winter, spring, summer, and fall, all of roughly equal length but for winter, which usually runs a little long and steals time from spring and autumn. All the seasons are fairly wet: plenty of snow in the winter and frequent rains in spring and fall.

Texas, where I currently live, has five seasons, one of which repeats. In order, they are “winter” (almost always snowless), spring, summer, hotter’n hell (temperatures of 100*F+), summer again, and fall.

I’ve also lived in Nevada, which is a high-altitude desert (translation: snowy winters, but dry hot summers), and Colorado, which is between the Appalachians and Nevada in humidity and has fairly normative seasons.

In each place, I find myself adapting to the seasons and, consequentially, to how humans change their indoor habitats to balance out the seasons. (Let me tell you how cold it is in every Texas building in summer; I have to bring my hoodie!) I have, in fact, gotten to the place where there is something I enjoy and value about each season, so I am capable of delighting in the current season while simultaneously pining for the next.

But what about spiritual cycles to match the natural ones around us, and what happens when they don’t match up? After all, as a pagan, I purposefully and subconsciously attune myself to the state of the land that envelopes me.

Yet, as a Kemetic, I follow the ancient Egyptian calendar for Kemetic festivals and holidays. Of course, these festivals match up to Kemet’s three seasons and all the associations thereof. When we plant our Appalachian farms, Kemet is harvesting crops. When I am praying for snow in a tepid Texas winter, Kemet’s banks are flowering greenly. When I am awash in suffocating temperatures and near-nightly epic thunderstorms, Kemet holds her dry breath, waiting for the Nile to flood and bless the land.

Contradictions much?

Before I was a Kemetic, my spiritual-seasonal cycle was simpler. The forest, the desert, the mountains, the endless sky– the varying temperatures and humidities and precipitation– I feel them, I grok them, and some pieces of my body and spirit shift and lean to match. It is an organic thing, an instinctive thing, a reflexive thing – a dance that I find hard to describe in words, other than to say this human animal has not forgotten its place in the natural world and can still feel the rightness of living immersively.

But what a challenge, to feel my flesh and psyche adjust to and accommodate the season around me, yet knowing that my chosen faith is experiencing a wholly different season and set of associations to match! To make it even more interesting, the Kemetic calendar does include lunar cycles and solstices, making my beloved Yule still important and valid… even if it’s the beginning of the growing season for ancient Egypt when I celebrate it.

So how can I knit the seasons of the land with the seasons of my Kemetic spirit? The Nile would flood, bringing life to the land, as Texas reaches its peak heat, driving everyone indoors to avoid heatstroke. Ancient Egyptians would begin planting their fertile fields as we enter into the winter holiday season, whose snowy scenery is iconic. The Kemetic harvest coincides with this land enthusiastically flowering and warming. What connections can I draw between my home and my faith’s homeland?

Well, with the Texas summer comes a bevy of thunderstorms, and in thunderstorms, as in the overwhelming humid heat, I find Ma’ahes. Texas is drenched from the sky as ancient Egypt was drenched by the Nile, and both lands are bathed clean, refreshed, renewed. And Ma’ahes is in the torrential storms as He is in the dry orange desert, a divine link between greening Texas and the flooded Black Land.

When the Kemetic growing season rolls around, my sun has died at Samhain, and I am preparing to welcome back the light at winter solstice and, hopefully, spend a lot of time with family and loved ones. As my body and the local land settle closer to hibernation, breathing softly in tandem, my heart and Kemet are receptive to new life. It is not so hard to conflate the beginning of winter’s quiet with a spiritual growth, the chilly stillness with sowing sacred seeds.

And lastly, I reap the fruits of my long winter after the first light of spring – taking stock of what I have done, created, and learned during the quiet time of colder weather and processing it appropriately. Harvesting, sorting, and storing the new in preparation for the cleansing of the inundation, of the Texas summer storms, of Ma’ahes’ peak presence.

Come inundation is the Kemetic new year, Wep Ronpet in early August; the world is licked clean by Nile and sky, ready for the hopes and intentions of a new cycle. And so it begins again, this strange waltz of Kemetic soul and North American soil.

Last year’s first C post was on Cernunnos.

(I would like to note that I wrote this post and scheduled it to post on Friday before I saw that Patheos had done an article with the same bloody title. *facepalm* So, please know that this post is utterly unrelated to that post.)

Belief: A statement that something is true or real, without scientific or objective substantiation, with or without direct personal experience in the realness of the something. It’s a subjective truth within your life and paradigm, but not necessarily solidly factual outside of that. Others may share your beliefs, but you have no verifiable proof that your beliefs are extant within the world outside of you.

Trust: The ability and willingness to implicitly rely upon someone or something. This is an emotional truth, though trust can be couched in intellectual, spiritual, or physical terms. To trust in someone is to be confident that they will not hurt you, even when you are weak or vulnerable or mistaken; to trust in an object is to be confident that it is functional and/or sufficient; to trust in a future event is to feel certain that it will come to pass, even though you have no current evidence.

Faith: The intersection of belief and trust.

Faith requires belief, but belief does not require faith. One can believe in a god without trusting that god; one can believe in an afterlife without trusting that they’ll reach it personally. Faith is not innately religious or spiritual, either. One can believe that their significant other loves them, trust their significant other and rely upon them, and have faith that their relationship will continue indefinitely and remain positive.

Believe it exists. Trust it’s good. And then have faith.

Last year’s second B post was on Brigid.

I read a Patheos article by P.S.V. Lupus on this very subject and thought it an excellent one to discuss from a Kemetic viewpoint. My takeaway of that post is the contemplation of how many pagans define themselves without any mention of deities—typically as “earth-based” or “nature-worshipping”—and how important it can be that we don’t try to shuffle our gods under the rug when non-pagan company comes over. This quote in particular sums it up nicely:

… a major goal for modern Paganism should be the active attempt to return the existence of the gods as real, volitional, and individual beings to the wider human consciousness. By this, I mean the gods should be understood as beings with whom one can choose to interact and cultivate relationships. … Perhaps then the goal of bringing back the gods will not be hidden away as a source of potential conflict, but rather celebrated as a good and wonderful thing, something praiseworthy and deeply important.

I have been a culture-nonspecific neopagan who described paganism using the terms “earth-based spirituality” and referred to the gods as “the Divine.” Now, I am specifically Kemetic, albeit with additional Celtic history and inclinations, and my way of seeing divine beings and divinity has changed, along with the terminology I use to describe Them.

But even so, as a Kemetic, Netjer is the One and the Many, and Its Names are Netjeru, the gods. If I choose to say “the Divine,” I mean Netjer; if I choose to say “Universal Soul,” I mean Netjer. But if you don’t know me, those three terms can evoke drastically different ideas in your head—assuming you know the word Netjer at all. One is loosely theistic, another is animistic or non-theistic, and the other is distinctly Kemetic.

And Kemetic gods are gods and goddesses, yes, but They are also Names of Netjer—and that means that the gods are a human way of naming, and thus identifying and attempting to understand, portions of this great unknowable divinity that is Netjer. I do indeed consider the Netjeru as individuals with Their own characteristics and initiative… but the Many are also the One. Netjer is comprised of Netjeru, and Netjeru blur the lines between each other, taking on one another’s roles and duties fluidly. (Just look at Nebt-het, Nit, and Nut for an example.)

I am a pagan, and I am a polytheist, and I am a Kemetic. I could drop all association with any form of deity and still consider myself pagan, as I did briefly when I was younger. But now?

Now I live with the presence of Netjer and Its Names. Virtually no day passes without my thoughts going to Netjer; virtually no day passes without brushing up against the essence and color of one of my gods. I see Them in the world and its people; I rest against the sense of Their company when I am vulnerable or when I am delighted or any emotion between. I would, quite frankly, not be the person I currently am without the experience of Netjer and, very specifically, the individual Netjeru Who are in my life.

So yes, I must say I do agree with those who believe that paganism should not lose sight and sound of its gods. One can have a perfectly fulfilling, valid spirituality without any hint of theism, and I would not say that person is not a pagan, but there is a powerful difference between a pagan sans gods and a pagan with Them. Neither better nor worse, mind, simply a wholly distinct experience, and that should not be hidden away under the blanket definition of paganism which so frequently stays silent about its gods.

For myself, I will be bringing back Kemet’s gods by living in Their presence and shining all the more for Their richness. My spirituality may not touch anyone outside of myself, and I neither need nor expect it to—but by gladdening my life with my faith, I bring my best self into the world and, hopefully, make it just a little bit better.

Last year’s first B post was on birthdays.

After seeing some gorgeous posts on arranging sacred space, I wanted to do my second A post on my altar, my shrine, my own sacred space.

This is my shrine area, in the corner of my bedroom:

I have been told it’s colorful. >_> On the floor, you can see the wooden box that holds my tealights, the brown prayerbook leaning against it, and the metal container that holds my incense on the opposite side of the cabinet. The piece of paper pinned to the wall is my printed-out copy of the rite of Senut, a Kemetic Orthodoxy ritual. I also have two wooden snakes, one rattlesnake statue, a giant seashell, and my metal container (and heat-safe rock) for fire magic. Plus the first painting of Hethert-Nut I did.

The center of the shrine is a wooden cabinet that was my grandfather’s; it has two shelves inside of it, one of which holds my “extra” Kemetic icons (and several lion and snake statues) and the other of which holds my non-Kemetic pagan icons and treasures. Atop the cabinet is my main working space:

From left to right, you can see my protective gargoyle which I have had forever, a sandalwood candle, my Capricorn lighter (I am terrible with matches), my incense holder, a glass “chalice” that holds my tealights, a bronze casting of an Egyptian sphinx, my offering plate, my four offering cups and the pourer, a tiny stone container of natron right in front of the pourer, a golden glass container specifically for Ma’ahes and Serqet that holds another tealight, a Persian sphinx statue, a cone incense burner, and a copper-colored dagger styled with Egyptian imagery.

The four-colored shelf above the cabinet is for the gods of my divine family; I oil-painted the shelf in Their colors. From left to right, we have Ma’ahes, Hethert-Nut, Nebt-het, and Serqet; the order flows, especially when taking into account that Sekhmet’s shelf is to the left. From Sekhmet, Eye of Ra, we have Ma’ahes, also an Eye, and Hethert-Nut, Who is the sky and thus home to the Eye, then Nebt-het, Who is also a celestial Netjeru, then Serqet, Who is related to Nebt-het by virtue of also being a protective goddess. (The four Netjeru Who are usually hailed as protective funerary goddesses are Nebt-het, Nit, Aset, and Serqet.)

Hanging below each Netjeru’s portion of the shelf is a necklace I made for Them, plus a bracelet that I found and bought for Them. Above the shelf are paintings of and for each of Them, and on the shelf are various objects and icons. Ma’ahes has the silver lion’s-head ring I wear constantly, a leaping lion relief (not Egyptian), and a lying lion statue, made by Nicolas of Shadow of the Sphinx, who is a fabulously talented and kind artisan that I recommend to everyone. Hethert-Nut has an awful lot of shinies, including the starcow statue, a Hethert prayer card from a fellow Kemetic, yet another necklace with a cow pendant made out of Sculpey, a tiny Celestial Cow figurine (made by Mimafdet), and the leftover gold and night-sky beads from Her necklaces. Nebt-het has a variety of dried flowers, a buckwheat-seed “pillow,” a black bone ankh, a large amethyst stone, and a tiny amethyst earring; I wear the other earring of the pair. Serqet has a scorpion conch shell, a scorpion made of woven wire, and a lovely statue of Her human form, which was a gift from my sister.

To the left of the main shelf is my smaller shelf for Sekhmet, painted bright red:

You can see several Sekhmet icons, most of which were gifts; the rightmost was made by Nicolas of Shadow of the Sphinx. There’s also a tiny white bird carved out of shell and a lion vertebra (obtained legally and ethically). Hanging from the bar of the shelf is a necklace that has Sekhmet’s name and another small lion bone.

To the right of the main shelf is a new installation for Set, Heru-wer, Yinepu, and Wepwawet:

Like the big shelf, I painted this according to Their colors, then offered stones (mahogany obsidian to Set, jet to the Jqls, and picture jasper to Heru-wer) and paintings of Their names in hieroglyphs. The Jqls also get a copper-and-pewter ring and two pennies.

In the corner, below the tapestry of Aker and above Serqet’s corner, is my akhu (ancestor) shrine:

You can see photos of my dad’s dad and mom’s mom, as well as a white candle, cone incense, and behind the photos is a little glass of water, which rests in a coffee cup that was my grandma’s. You can also see a little wooden bird, painted blue with silver stars, and a necklace and pin that were my grandpa’s. Near Grama’s photo is a blue lotus-like glass flower with four golden freshwater pearl beads (from Hethert-Nut’s stash) and a wee vial of scented oil that reminds me of my grandpa’s house. There is, of course, the colorful akhu painting above the shelf and Grama’s silver flapper-ish purse hanging to the right of the shelf. Below the shelf is a hand-written prayer, which I read weekly while offering fresh water and lighting the candle and incense.

To the right of my akhu shrine, above the little shelf for Set and Heru-wer and the Jqls, is a corkboard that holds my religious and personal jewelry. I hung it all up for the purposes of this photo; on any given day, I’m wearing one or two bracelets, my watch, and 1-4 necklaces, though usually only two are visible on the outside of my shirt.

From left to right, we’ve got two necklaces for Serqet, one a scorpion in amber resin and the other one I made for us, featuring a sphinx medallion with a tiger’s-eye silver scorpion. Next are two necklaces for Hethert-Nut; the copper one was custom-made by Riv of PurpleShiny, and the round one is an image from the Orion Nebula. Next to those are two personal necklaces, one of twin sphinxes and the other of a lion skull cast in metal. To the right of those are two bracelets, a custom chainmaille bracelet woven by J. Koyanagi of Helix Chainmaille, and the akhu bracelet I made. Next to that is the pewter Sekhmet pendant I wear under my shirt; I’ve had it for years and years, a gift from another Sekhmet devotee. After that are a few more chainmaille creations: some singular earrings and a chainmaille bracelet for Hethert-Nut, plus a copper “coin” earring and a magnetic rainbowized hematite bracelet. Lastly, you’ve got my watch and two seed-bead bracelets (that I did not make).

I hope you’ve enjoyed this virtual, visual tour through my shrine! :)

Last year’s second A post was on Anhur.

Alternate post title: Who The Hell Is On My Wall?

This is the hand-made painted tapestry that hangs over my shrine area:

I adore it. It was a gift from a one-time next-door-neighbor in Colorado, along with most of my other Egyptian paintings. It is one of my very favorite pieces my neighbor-artist graciously gave me.

I also don’t know, for sure, Who it depicts. I’ve run the gamut in my research and circled back, and forth, and sideways.

A lot of my sources suggest that these twin lions are, in fact, the lions of Yesterday and Today, Sef and Duau, which are akeru, the plural of the Egyptian god Aker, a pre-dynastic earth Netjeru. Other sources say this is Ruti, the “two lions.” Others say this pair is Shu and Tefnut, ancient gods of wind and moisture respectively.

Of course, since Kemeticism is full of polyvalent logic, this tapestry could easily depict all of the above. Conveniently, I am extremely fond of Shu and Tefnut, as well as deeply interested in Aker, so it’s pretty much a win-win situation for me.

For the purpose of this post, I’d like to talk a little more about Aker, Who is not one of the better-known deities of ancient Egypt. Aker is depicted as a single-bodied lion with a head at each end, symbolizing the rising and setting sun on the horizon; in this form, He is often shown with the barque of the sun god Ra on His back. The version we see in my tapestry, however, is of two physically-separate lions, with leopard-like spots, holding the sun rising or setting between two mountains. That sun-and-mountains symbol indicates the horizon, the akhet. Both two-headed and two-bodied versions of Aker can have human or lion heads, making Him occasionally a sphinx (or pair of sphinxes).

Aker, being the earth and the horizon, was both protector and gateway; He defended Ra and the king against serpents small and large, as well as allowing passage into and out of the underworld (which was His body). Because of His guardian aspects and funerary associations, twin lions were often placed near palaces, tombs, and thresholds as protectors and wards against evil. Additionally, Aker could neutralize poisons in those who had been stung by scorpions or bitten by snakes, or even had just swallowed something toxic. He was occasionally shown on protective amulets or apotropaic wands from the Middle Kingdom.

Some sources suggest that Aker’s differing depictions seem to have given clues to His intended role. As the two-headed horizon, He was a more passively beneficial earth deity that held the severed pieces of Apep imprisoned safely. In His form of two lions, however, He was more active in destroying evil, and references in the Pyramid Texts indicate the twin lions had to refrain from “seizing” the deceased king traveling through the underworld, which is likely why that depiction of Aker was more commonly featured on entryways to keep evil from passing through.

References include G. Pinch’s Egyptian Mythology, R. Wilkinson’s The Complete Gods and Goddesses of Ancient Egypt, G. Hart’s Routledge Dictionary of Egyptian Gods and Goddesses, and T. Siuda’s Kemet.org.

Last year’s first A post was Apotropaic Deities.

And thus we happen upon the second year of the Pagan Blog Project! Last year, I did a total of 28 posts, petering out around the midpoint of the year as dayjob busyness hit an all-time high. You can see last year’s posts here.

I’ll be endeavoring to complete the full year this time around, with a couple small caveats.

1) For the letters I covered last year, I may only do one post instead of the ideal two.
2) If I can’t think up a substantial post for a given letter, I may write a prayer or hymn, or even do a painting and share a photograph, instead. That way I can still contribute and be active without stressing over it.
3) Like last year, I won’t be doing 101 posts or writing about topics that aren’t deeply interesting and/or relevant to me and my experiences as a Kemetic and pagan.
4) I’m still going to try to do a non-PBP post every Wednesday, in addition to the Friday PBPs.

Let the blogging begin!

PS: I made a few Kemetic PBP banners, two for main posts and two for sidebars. Please feel free to use them! :) The long ones feature Nebt-het (Nephthys) on the left and Seshat on the right; the sidebar ones feature either Seshat or Djehuty (Thoth).