Cartography

Written in September 2011.

Listen close, my dear
and I will sing you a map of the world:
of living, of dreaming and dying,
with Here Be Dragons in bits of sea
and blank places about the edges
for you to fill in yourself.

Here are the tales of old:
Heracles and the Nemean lion,
Cúchulainn and the Morrigan,
Freya and her necklace,
Raven and the sun,
Amaterasu hiding in a cave –

Not real?
of course they’re real, child,
as real as you and me
as real as yesterday
as real as glass, or time, or wind.

I’m telling you a map of the world,
and it’s not a thing of ink and parchment
(though I could draw it there
in words and wonder, if you like,
but it would take a thousand libraries
to tell it all)
nor a thing of equations and formulas
but rather a thing of stories
legends, myths. . .
true things.

There are new stories, too,
bits of this map redrawn and retold;
and sometimes, very rarely,
in treasured corners, added anew.
You’ll find them in books newly published,
and in amateur scribbles on the internet,
and drawn in comics,
and written on restaurant napkins:
these are modern myths,
news or fantasy or memoir,
all valuable lines on the map of the world –

yes, even the shallow novels
with lurid garish colors that we call
tripe and fluff, and scorn as fodder
for lazy minds and dim spirits,
because even trash romances
are lipstick-smeared maps of someone’s desires,
someone’s secret shadows.

Scorn no tale,
even if it seems shallow,
even if it is hard to hear,
even if it disgusts you,
even if it enrages you.

(Especially then.)

People will say that we tell stories for survival
because it binds a community together
passes along information

little red riding hood
nearly eaten by a wolf
and so: don’t talk to strangers in the wood.

Or earlier:
stories around a fire
tribal tales
mythologizing the hunt
told for generations
so that all remember
how best to procure meat

Stories for survival
Evolutionary need
and that is why we have legends
and need to retell them.

All of these things are true –
their tale of the origin of stories
is just as real
as the ones I speak of now.

Our lives are composed of myth
sung in the stories we share
the dramas we make of the little things of each day.
I can tell you my story,
and this map I’m drawing is part of that.
You can tell me your story, then,
and we will see where our maps join,
how they overlap,
maybe fill in some of the gaps

(but leave the dragons alone
they’re real, and true;
let’s not draw over them)

and then find other tales
map a little of the alien shore of another mind
for nothing is as infinite
as the landscape
of the heart.

Guardian, Challenger, Guide

[1]
Anpu, Guardian, Challenger, Guide
He who opens the ways
Jackal black with my heart in his hands
Waiting to be weighed.

[Refrain]
Tepy-Dju-Ef
Wepwawet
Khenty-Seh-Netjer
Imy-ut
Khenti-Imentiu
Yinepu and Neb-Ta-Djeser

[2]
You who formed my eternal ba
Father of my self
You who know my truest Name
Let me honor you.

[3]
Guide me through the shadows of night
Challenge me in the dark
Guard me when I cannot guard myself
Open the ways of my heart.

[4]
I shall follow ma’at in word and deed
Keep my feet from isfet
Balance my heart with the Feather of Truth
I live in ma’at.

[5]
Dua Anpu, Lord of the West
I accept your challenge!
I will not flee, nor will I back away
I am your own!

–

Notes:

This is a song to my god, Anpu (better known as Anubis). The refrain is a listing of the Names he’s known by. I used some Egyptian terms and words, so here’s translations:

• ba: The immortal part of the soul.
• dua: “Hail” or “honor to”. It’s the equivalent of saying “praise [deity]!”.
• isfet: “Discord”, “Wrong”, “entropy”. It’s sort of like the concept of “evil”, only not quite.
• Khenti-Imentiu: Name of Anpu meaning “Foremost of the Westerners”. The Egyptian lands of the dead were perceived to be in the west.
• Khenty-Seh-Netjer: Name of Anpu meaning “Presider over the Gods’ Pavilion”.
• Imy-ut: Name of Anpu meaning “He Who is in the Place of Embalming”.
• ma’at: “Right”, “balance” and “Truth”. It’s sort of like the concept of “good”, only not quite.
• Neb-Ta-Djeser: Name of Anpu meaning “Lord of the Sacred Land”.
• Tepy-Dju-Ef: Name of Anpu meaning “He Who Is Upon His Mountain”.
• Wepwawet: Name of Anpu meaning “Opener of the Ways”.
• Yinepu: Name of Anpu meaning “Divine Child”.

Letter to an Empath

Written in July 2008.

Dear Empath,

Maybe you have just consciously realized that not all the emotions you feel are yours, and aren’t sure what to do about it. Maybe you have known this for a while, and trust your senses implicitly. Likely you have a healer’s sense, and want to do all you can to fix the hurts you feel, sharing your perceptions of others’ emotions with them in an attempt to get them to open up.

Sharing your perceptions is fine, but it needs to be done sensitively, and too few “sensitives” manage that. There’s a reason many science fiction novels depict telepaths as mistrusted, hated, or feared: one’s inner world, the contents of one’s mind, is a deeply private, very personal place. Infringing there without permission is a severe violation.

But Meir! you might say, I can’t help sensing peoples’ emotions! How can you say it’s a violation? They’re violating me by blasting me with painful emotion!

First, not everyone is aware of their empathic senses, and plenty of people do not have very strong or well-honed empathy. If you are naturally strong empathically, you have a talent that you must learn to control. It is your responsibility to be ethical and sensitive with your abilities. After all, if you’re an empath, you’re supposed to be sensitive to the feelings of others, right? It’s in your best interest to avoid agitating people by displaying violation of their privacy.

It’s like someone born with a naturally larger body than most: powerful shoulders, great height, an easy gain of muscle mass. Such a person has to learn to adjust their grip so as not to bruise others in a casual handshake or a pat on the back. They can’t help what they were born with, but it’s nonetheless their responsibility to moderate their use of strength for the well being, safety, and comfort of less physically gifted individual. Similarly, a naturally strong empath must moderate their behavior to accommodate less psychically gifted individuals.

Second, it is your responsibility to take care of yourself, including in regards to your empathy. I’ve known empaths who insist that every other person in their social circle is at fault for what emotion they’re supposedly “projecting”, especially if such people are Pagan or occultist. Some have even insisted that a Pagan exhibiting strong emotion around the empath was psychically attacking them! In my opinion (and I say this as an empath, myself), this is ridiculous. You are responsible for your own senses.

For instance, someone who is hypersensitive to light doesn’t generally insist that lights be turned down or off wherever they go; that’s not feasible. Instead, they wear sunglasses or prescription glasses or both, and perhaps they install special light bulbs or dimmer switches in their home. Similarly, an empath can learn to use filters or shields and ward their home against outside energy and emotion. I live with emotionally volatile roommates who frequently fight; I ward my own room and retreat there when it gets to be too much for my senses. Music, a loud fan, reading a book, or focusing on video games can help block it out even further.

I don’t like shielding or filtering. I find it uncomfortable and feel that it muffles what is, for me, a vital sense. If I choose not to shield or at least put up good filters, however, I run the risk of sensory overload from empathic feedback. I can’t blame others for that overload, because it is my responsibility to shield and I choose not to, thus making myself vulnerable.

Many empaths I’ve known have difficulties shielding effectively. That isn’t the only way to manage one’s empathy, though. Developing healthy personal and social boundaries can be helpful; learn what is “you” and what is “not you” and it can make it easier to lessen the impact of or ignore outside emotions. This is harder and takes longer to develop than shielding, but I believe it’s the most effective coping skill for empaths in the long run.

Other management and coping tactics are removing yourself from an overwhelming situation (such as stepping outdoors after being in a crowded room for a while), preparing yourself when you know you’re going into a potentially overwhelming environment (visiting a distraught friend or going to a concert, for instance), grounding frequently, taking care of yourself physically so that you have the energy and mental resources to handle your empathy (such as eating healthily and regularly—food has an incredible impact on mood and ability to focus), and avoiding toxic relationships and situations.

For example, if a friend is frequently venting her anger to you and it’s overwhelming, draw boundaries: ask her to vent to someone else. Empaths are easy to open up to and talk to, but that can take a toll on the empath. If you are feeling strain from people emotionally dumping on you, it is your right to say, “I’m sorry, I can’t handle venting right now; do you think you could talk to someone else?”

You have to deal with, in one way or another, whatever emotion people give off, but you do not have to let people use you as cheap therapy. Firm, respectful boundaries are especially important for empaths. Friends may be upset at first that you won’t let them come to you about every one of their emotional woes and angers; they may even say that you’re the only one they can talk to, but don’t let yourself be guilted into not taking care of yourself. You can’t help anyone else if you’re burnt out and breaking under empathic strain.

And if you’re really the only one your friends can talk to about issues, then it’s likely they’ve become over dependent on you. Allowing that to continue does them a disservice and handicaps them. Beware of codependency!

Third, it is possible you are wrong or inaccurate. Your own mood and perceptual filters distort all sensory feedback. This certainly distorts visual and auditory feedback—what you hear and see and how you interpret it is infinitely subjective, and nonphysical senses are just as much so, if not more. Some people have shields that distort or divert your senses. Sometimes it’s hard to tell who you’re picking up emotion from: you might be feeling your distant lover’s anger through a close psychic link and mistake it as coming from the friend right in front of you.

Finally, if you must share your perceptions—be subtle and sensitive about it. Accept that you could be wrong. Especially accept that the other person might not wish to share what’s bothering them, and they have that right to privacy. Verbal, empathic, and social pushing after the individual has refused to discuss the matter is a violation, and at that point it’s an intentional one. I know it can be hard not to meddle, but oftentimes doing so can make matters worse, no matter your good intentions.

Take responsibility for your abilities. Take care of yourself. Accept the possibility that you and your empathic senses are fallible. Maintain healthy boundaries. It can even be helpful to get therapy to learn boundaries and minimize codependent tendencies. And please, respect others’ right to privacy; they are not required to explain their emotions to you, nor are they required to believe that you are sensing their emotions.

You have a talent, and it is your responsibility to manage it effectively.

It is not an easy journey.

Empathically,

Meir

A Pleasing Offering

Written in July 2006.

“Why do you worry so much?” a friend asked after my ramblings on researching and writing a daily rite. “Offering is offering, right? I don’t think the gods care so much about what’s offered as they do about the attitude it’s offered in.”

“I know that,” I said, brushing it off before going right back to puzzling over a daily rite.

I didn’t really think about it till much later. In a way, my friend was right. What need have gods for chocolate and shiny things? There’s a deeper reason behind ritual, offerings, and the apparent pickiness of some deities over what they’re offered. It’s not that Anpu really can’t stand fish, or absolutely adores rum, though that may be partially the case. The core reason is the concept of sacrifice.

An offering is many things. It’s a sacrifice, a form of worship, recognition of the roles the gods play in human lives. It’s a form of prayer. In kemetic practice, it’s also communion, a shared meal and shared time.

The value of an offering is what the offerer puts into it.

It’d be easy to offer Anpu money. It’d be a sacrifice – I don’t earn a lot, and there’s all sorts of items and trips and outings I would love to spend it on instead. Yet I don’t offer Anpu money. Why not? Because it’d be easy. It requires no thought, effort, or time on my part. It’s a sacrifice, but not a sacrifice of self.

Jesus knew the value of offering. The story of the widow and her two copper coins illustrates it perfectly. She offered only two small coins, and Jesus noted that she offered more than the sacks of gold given to the temple by the rich men, saying “All these people gave their gifts out of their wealth; but she out of her poverty put in all she had to live on.” She was saying with her offering that she trusted her God enough to give him all she had. Her sacrifice was a gesture of trust, a sacrifice of self, not of convenience. It’s a case of money being a valuable offering. In my situation, my living expenses, schooling, and books are all paid for by grants and scholarships – I don’t need money to survive. Giving money would be giving “out of my wealth”, to use the biblical phrasing.

I also don’t offer money because Anpu doesn’t ask for it. A pleasing offering-gift is one that shows the giver listened to what the recipient wanted. I don’t know if Anpu really likes rum chocolate or honeycomb, but it’s what he told me he wanted, so I bought it for him. Offering him only the money that those items cost would have been a lifeless offering; giving him the items showed I took the time to listen and cared enough to follow through.

Time and effort is another part of offering. I fold origami; never tried giving any to Anpu, but I’ll use this as an example anyway. I could fold a sloppy, half-assed flapping crane out of notebook paper. It would take me three minutes. Yet even if Anpu decided he wanted origami, I don’t think he’d like it. I’d probably get the “What the hell is this?” look. However, I could also hunt around and find a store with colorful, high-quality origamiy paper and then take my time folding the crane, making the creases precise and sharp. I’d likely get a much more favorable reaction from that, because it took time and effort and I put my best into making it.

An offering must also be from the offerer. I missed having tea with Anpu one day. A coworker bought me a cup of chai tea because we were all frazzled and she wanted to apologize for snapping at me. My reaction was something along the lines of Ooh! I can use this for tea with Anpu! But the instant I started my ritual routine, I got the spiritual equivalent of a wrist-slap and a stern look. ‘That was a gift to you. You neither bought it nor made it, and it was intended for you. You will not offer that.’ Oops. I must have looked a bit shamefaced as I set the cup down and apologized to the Jackal.

Another story to go with the above point: During the Yule of honeycomb and rum chocolates, I had originally bought nothing to offer to Anpu. I suppose somewhere in my mind was the idea that I’d offer him something of the ritual feast. (I was clearly not thinking.) I accompanied my boyfriend to a wonderful Italian grocery so he could pick up mead, and I halted at the door as a thought occured to me. “Crap – Anpu’s gonna want something.”

“Of course I do. You weren’t going to give me someone else’s offering, were you?”

So I got him Holland gouda cheese and Amish honeycomb honey and rum chocolates, and he was very pleased, bouncing about as Yinepu, the Divine Child. It was a good Yule, and I learned a lesson about offering.

Every time I’ve given (or tried giving, or thought about giving) an offering of convenience, I’ve gotten an unfavorable response. There was the Yule incident as described above. There was the sushi, given because it was what was in the fridge and hey, I like it, maybe Anpu would too. His distaste probably came less from some dislike for sushi and more from the fact that I didn’t check if he’d like it or not, I didn’t listen, and I put no effort of my own into it. It’s possible that there will be more incidents in the future, because I can be lazy or rushed at times and will grab for what’s convenient. That’s not a sacrifice. It’s a lifeless offering.

Finally there’s the component of offerings I believe to be most important in kemetic practice: communion. Sacrifice is different when it’s practically a requirement to use the offering. In other religions, you are truly giving up any food (and usually any items) offered. They’re burnt, thrown out for animals and plants, tossed in a well, or otherwise disposed of. With kemetism, the idea is that the gods consume the offering’s essence, its ka, and the offering’s khat or physical part is consumed by the offerer or someone close to them. If you offer food, you get to eat it. If you offer ink, you get to use it. Indeed, you must consume or use said items. There’s no possibility of going hungry because you offered a slab of meat and bread.

Therefore, communion gains importance. A hasty thoughtless offering, given without meditation or time or thought, is a poor offering. Offered food becomes a shared meal. Offered items become shared actions. When someone gives the offering, she should be spending time with the netjer, her thoughts on the one offered to, open and listening and sharing her heart.

To me, daily ritual is a time of fellowship with Anpu, the time when I get to sit down and have a one-on-one chat with the Jackal. It’s a time of reverence, yes; but more than that, it’s a time of closeness. Sure, I can chat with Anpu any time, but it’s usually like talking on the phone. Ritual is when we meet face-to-face.

So what do I see as the necessary components of an offering? I believe a pleasing offering is one that is a sacrifice of self rather than convenience; it comes from having listened and cared enough to comply with what’s wanted; it’s an offering that took time and sincere effort to provide; one that is offered in mindfulness and openness to communion and communication.

In the end, a pleasing offering is one of the heart, however that may manifest. It all sums up to sincerity.

Soul Pieces

Written in July 2006.

One of the concepts in Egyptian belief that makes most sense to me is the idea that there are many parts that make up a person. These are the khat, or physical body; the ba, or core eternal part of the soul; the ka, or spirit/double; the khaibit, or shadow; the ren, or true name; the sekhem, or essence; and the yb, or heart. I often use these terms in explaining some of my beliefs about reincarnation, selfhood, therianthropy, and multiplicity, among other concepts; they are convenient, useful terms. However, some of my interpretations of the various parts of the self differ from the widely accepted interpretations.

If you are interested in the basic traditional interpretation of the Egyptian concept of the self, there’s a decent write up of it here.

Following is my interpretation of the parts of the self. This may change as I learn more or as my paradigm evolves.

• The khat is the physical body. This is what can be measured, felt, and seen. It includes the neurological and biological processes, and is the vehicle by which the soul usually experiences and affects the environment. Temperament and a number of other psychological traits have their source in the physical body, which also contains many perceptual “filters” that affect the reception and translation of external (and sometimes internal) information. It will eventually die and decay.
• The ba is the soul: the core, eternal part of the self. It is akin to a spiritual version of temperament – it’s the base from which the self is built. The ba is the part that reincarnates. It retains impressions and colorings from past lives, but usually no more than brief flashes unless the life was very recent or had a significant impact on the ba. The ba is something like the Reclaiming idea of the Higher Self, that subconscious (or perhaps more accurately, supraconscious) part that is aware of and connected to the entirety of being, and especially the nonphysical realm; it’s also similar to the idea of the “inner self”, the version of a person with (supposedly) full memory of all past incarnations and interactions.
• The ka is the spirit; it is you-this-life. Where the ba is the core, the ka is the flesh; the personality of ka overtop the temperament of ba. It is affected by the ba, and affects it in turn; life shapes the ka, as does the environment and the foundation of the ba. The ka is closely connected with physical existance; it is one’s consciousness, in a manner; it’s the part of a person that is generally aware. While the ba reincarnates after death, the ka does not. I’m not sure what happens with the ka after death. It either unites with the khaibit to become the akh, gets a spirit-body (called the sahu) and continues to the afterlife; or perhaps it remains on Earth as a sort of ghost; or perhaps it dissolves into reusable energy after death (though certainly not always).
• The khaibit is the shadow, and is much like the Jungian shadow. It’s made up of all the parts that a person hides from herself and refuses to admit, or the parts that she buries for whatever reason. It is the dark mirror reflection of the soul. Much of it is made up of so-called “negative” traits (despair, anger, vengeance, etc) or “positive” traits that the person doesn’t allow herself (vulnerability, openness, even love), all of which, when viewed and used properly, can become aids and assets. It’s not a bad part, or even all that negative, but many people are afraid of it. If not dealt with, accepted, and integrated into the ka, the khaibit can linger after death as a ghost. Generally it stays with the body; sometimes it stays with a thing, place, or person the individual had a strong attachment to in life. It does not reincarnate but either fuses with the ka or remains as a ghost until released or until it fades in some manner (shattering, dissolving, etc).
• The ren is the true name. It can sometimes be approximated in sound, but I don’t think it’s something spoken. It’s that which sums up the essence of a person; it contains all of who a person is. Some think the ren is one’s individual DNA. Others think it’s one’s energy signature. I think these are part of the ren (and can account for the Law of Contagion, since in Kemetic belief, knowing someone’s ren gave one power over that person). I don’t know precisely what the ren is, though; my mind can’t quite grasp the idea of something that encompasses the entirety of a person.
• The sekhem is the power or essence; one’s “energy”, so to speak. I think this reincarnates along with the ba. The sekhem contributes greatly to one’s energy signature or “feel”. It is the personal core life-energy that one normally draws on; it can be supplemented or replenished by external energy through such exercises as grounding. It’s the pool or wellspring found at one’s center. It’s connected to (if not the same thing as) one’s will.
• The yb is the heart or mind. I’d guess it’s a mix of the neural pathways that are the brain and the circulatory system of heart and blood. The Egyptians thought a person did their thinking and feeling with their heart, rather than their brain, so I think it could be safely said that the yb is the mind. It’s more connected with the sahu and ka, and does not reincarnate; it’s also the part that’s weighed against the Feather of Ma’at during the Weighing of the Heart in the Hall of Two Truths after death.

To the Jackal’s Gate

Written in January 2006.

Anpu, called Yinepu-Wepwawet, called Anubis by the Greeks. He who is named Guardian, Challenger, Guide of the Dead. Jackal who places the heart on the Scales of Ma’at; Divine Child, Opener of the Ways…

When I started out in paganism, I knew that a lot of people had a patron god or goddess or both. Without questioning the why and how and who of it all, or where the idea of patrons came from, or the validity of it, I accepted the idea and decided I ought to figure out who my patron was. My more experienced friends (dedicated to such pleasant deities as Kali and the Morrigan) warned me, said I’d know if I belonged with someone specific. They said such things as “Trust us. Belonging to a specific deity is not all it’s cracked up to be. It’s a lot more trials and a lot more work.” They said, “Don’t go looking unless you have to.”

I didn’t listen. I wanted to have a patron; that was normal procedure, right? I was excited about this new path, I was eager and serious, I wanted to immerse myself and do things right. I’d longed for so long to be close to God as a Christian; I’d wanted so badly to believe and be, but the closeness and faith I’d had as a kid remained always out of reach. Now I’d found something I could believe in and immerse in and feel, and I wanted more.

So I looked, kept myself open for signals and possibilities. I thought at one point I was Heimdall’s, but learned better; I thought then that I was Sekhmet’s, which led me into a flurry of research about kemetic reconstruction and Egyptian belief.

It fit. Kemetism fit me and my beliefs like nothing else I’d encountered. After a while, I came to realize that Sekhmet had served only to point me to kemetic paganism, that I’d just jumped to conclusions again. Embarassed once more by my hasty thinking, I finally heeded my friends’ advice and stopped looking for “my patron”. Instead, I focused on learning about kemetic beliefs and practices; I concentrated on my own personal growth, on fundamentals.

It wasn’t until August that the subject of personal deities came up again with a vengeance, and not of my own accord. I tried avoiding it, but any time the subject rose, I felt a restlessness in my stomach that refused to leave. I finally gave in and set about to researching deities of various pantheons, determined not to jump to conclusions in any way this time.

The research dragged on for a month and more. I refused to make any hasty decisions – or any decisions, for that matter. I felt prodded and pushed, a sense of impatience from someone or some ones. My excuses of “I need to do more research!” weren’t holding up. I finally buckled down and started narrowing down my list of possibilities.

When I got to Anpu, it was like a shockwave of recognition as I read information on the Jackal and the experiences various individuals had with him. I described my reaction in my LiveJournal:

Holy crap. It’s Anpu. At least one of them is. Yinepu/ Anpu/ Wepwawet, whatever name, but… holy crap. I’m reading the descriptions people are giving and on a lot of them, I’m sitting there going “That’s what I’ve been feeling, that’s one of the presences I’ve been sensing!” And the feeling just kept getting more intense and clear as I was reading peoples’ stories and thoughts on Anpu, to the point where I had tears in my eyes and a fullness in my chest coming out of nowhere.

It was like being embraced, almost; warm sleek jackal-body curling around my back; a canine sigh. And then, in my typical fashion: “…All right. Back up. Go through procedure. Nothing hasty.”

I tried going through a systematic process and tried looking at everything logically, dispassionately, objectively. But the decision wasn’t mine, and I had to admit that in the end. The recognition described above settled the matter in my heart; my mind was slower to realize the truth. There came a point where I had to do away with the pretense of method; had to admit that it was nothing more than pretense, and bow to the conclusion my deeper self came to long before.

A friend remarked on my usual logic, and said it seemed odd that I let intuition and instinct guide me in this matter. After all, I usually followed my head. Why was I now letting my heart lead?

I replied that logic does not solve everything, and too much reliance on logic alone can cause problems, as I’d learned the hard way. I had to listen to intuition as well as logic. Logic tempered with instinct; intuition tempered with reason. It’s a fine line.

Yes, I used feelings a lot in my narrowing down of things. I did my research and learned about each deity in consideration so that I knew precisely who I was looking at, and so I had more information to react to. But in the end the matter fell to gut reactions – because I believe that the gods choose their own. How will using solely logic help me discover which god has chosen me? There’s no real way; it takes paying attention to symbols and feelings and intuition.

If I used solely logic, I’d be reduced to picking names out of a book. Going “Hey, so-and-so sounds like someone who I could work with, and I like these various domains of this god better than these others, so I think I’ll go with this one” is… well, it doesn’t make sense to me that it would work too well. Going up to a deity and saying “Hi! I’ve chosen you to follow/ worship/ work with!” just doesn’t make much sense to me. If I believed that the gods are all just archetypes and thoughtforms, psychological tools – then yes, that would make perfect sense. Then I’d definitely pick and choose the archetype I’d work with for a while to improve myself. But that’s not what I believe.

So my path led me to the Jackal. Since accepting his call, I’ve experienced much of him, grown much, learned much – and still have a long way to go. I’ve experienced his love, his challenge, his disappointment and his approval. He guides but does not coddle. He guards his own when they are in danger that they cannot survive by themselves – but he also challenges them, allowing them to face alone those challenges they can overcome, so that they will be strong enough to someday overcome those trials they cannot currently win. He is a guide, and protects those he guides, but does not shield them from all challenges. That would be no protection at all.

My God is velvet shadow and sleek black fur; my God is alertness and silent knowing in the Hall of Two Truths; my God is jackal-laughter and child-wisdom and father-wisdom; He is ancient and proud and honor and truth, He is sternness and playfulness and innocence and understanding. So many things all at once, sometimes seeming paradoxes but never truly so.

Anpu, Wepwawet-Yinepu, Lord of the Hallowed Land…

I accept.

Divine Message Fallacy

Written in July 2008.

When I was a Christian, there were many issues in the church that bothered me. One of the most aggravating, though, began with some variant of the following phrase:

“The Lord gave me a message for you…”

This was followed with some holier-than-thou, well-meaning, and usually very misplaced directive on how the subject should change or otherwise live his or her life. My bad, a pastor, often gets these “messages” from people—typically elderly women with a history of meddling and judgment.

What do you say to that? “Sorry, I think you heard wrong”? That never goes over well. “But the Lord told me! Are you denying God’s authority?” Saying their meddling comes from on high (and they might even believe it does) gives their words extra weight, because after all, God is never wrong!

My father generally says, “Thank you, I’ll ask Him further about that,” then asks his God just in case it is a valid perception, essentially checks it with his own experience.

One might think that occultists and pagans wouldn’t have such issues—but in reality, it’s worse.

The problem is that there are so many avenues for this perceptual projection in a pagan worldview. In Protestant Christianity, there are 1. messages from God, 2. perception of demonic forces, and… that’s all I can think of.

In Paganism, there are the following:

1. Channeling and/or aspecting deities or spirits
2. Messages from deity or spirits
3. Divination (tarot, ouija board, etc)
4. Psychic attack
5. Dreamwalking and astral projection
6. Eempathy
7. Extrasensory perception
8. Auras and energy
9. Past lives

…and I’m sure I’m forgetting some.

Let’s go over some of the ways these can be abused.

1. Messages from Deity

This is no different than in Christianity. Usually the meddler will get a “message” from the subject’s patron, which the subject should of course pay attention to.

I think the best way to respond to this is with a “Thank you for your concern, I’ll think on that,” and then check with your gods yourself. If you’re getting a wildly different message, the “messenger” is probably wrong.

2. Channeling or Aspecting

I have known people to channel or aspect a deity in ritual (or pretend to) and then, while still “wearing” the deity, give someone in circle the channeler’s thoughts or judgments. Sometimes the channeler will later “not remember” the “message” (because of course it wasn’t them) but say, “it must have been important, you should heed it”.

When I’m giving the person the benefit of the doubt, I’ll believe that they believe it was genuine—but unless I can get a confirmation from the deity later, on my own, in private communion, I’ll be very skeptical as to the veracity of the message. It is very difficult, if not impossible, to eliminate the contamination and distortion inherent in the vessel, no matter how well a channeler trances out. That’s if they’re not being downright consciously manipulative.

3. Divination

Getting a divination from friends who know your issues is always risky. Oracles such as tarot are subjective, and I’ve known readers to insert their own opinions of your situation into the reading, weighing it with the authority of the cards.

An example: A very opinionated friend had read tarot for me several times before, but we’d fallen out of touch for several months. We got back in contact, updated each other on our lives, and I asked for a reading. I did not tell her my question; this was her preferred style, and it provides less perceptual contamination. I asked about something she had no way of knowing about.

The reading was spot-on. I know tarot, so I was able to “read over her shoulder”, and her interpretation was solid—until halfway through, when she very clearly felt she knew what I was asking about. She started smugly inserting her own opinions on what I should do about my education in the guise of “The cards say you should…”, when my question had to do with nothing of the sort.

Not telling your topic of inquiry to the reader is one way to circumvent this, as seen above. People who know what’s going on in your life, though, can often guess; I’ve suspected my subconscious of contaminating my interpretation when I’ve read for others and figured out what they’re asking about. Getting divinations from people who don’t know you well is better.

4. Psychic Attack

This one is obnoxious and irritatingly common. Accusations of “psychic attack”, often unwarranted, have begun witch wars or made them worse. Had a bad day and you’re mad at another pagan? “They must have cursed me!” Tell all your friends! Found out that a long-time member of your circle identifies as a psychic vampire? Well, you were tired after working overtime last week… they must have fed from you against your will! Confront them in a hostile way (or, alternatively, under the guise of “I care about you, but you need to learn to control yourself”). Can’t let them get away with that, after all!

I honestly have no clue how to deal with this one. Denying it or suggesting alternative reasons for their tiredness, bad day, or other issue doesn’t always work. I’ve even heard people respond to denial with, “Well, maybe you didn’t mean to and didn’t know you did it, but you did!” If they insist on perpetuating that sort of drama, and nothing you say or do will change their mind—maybe they’re not the healthiest people to spend time with. Unless you enjoy the drama of witch wars and fractured magickal groups—in which case, please stay away from me. 😉

Sometimes all you can do is ignore the drama monger or break ties with the person entirely. Witnesses might help—someone who is energetically sensitive and can attest as to whether or not a phenomenon came from you, though that could just as easily slip into accusations of people “taking sides”. Seeking the guidance or mediation of a balanced, well-grounded elder may also help. Stay calm; if you react, the drama monger will take it as more fuel for his or her fires.

5. Dreamwalking and Astral Projection

A friend of mine who is a member of a small occult group of some note once had a stalker. This stalker learned about her membership, read up on the group, joined its forums, and started claiming that my friend had dreamwalked to him and was trying to seduce him, psychically feed on him, and other such things. He said he dreamed about her, so she must have dreamwalked to him. My friend remembered doing no such thing, and his description of her supposed astral appearance was very different from past descriptions of such by people she’d dreamwalked to on purpose. Arguments to the contrary, in private, proved useless.

This is similar to the psychic attack issue, and there’s about as much you can do—which is to say, dismiss and ignore. Alternatively, someone might claim to have dreamwalked or projected to you or to an area of interest and claim to have pertinent information. If the person shares private, personal information of yours with you, that’s a little creepy, in that stalker sort of way. Either they’re telling the truth and have been astrally spying on you, which is invasive, or they’re trying to impress you with their l337 powarz and have actually hacked your email, spied on you physically, or some other unpleasantly stalker-ish and illegal activity. In either case, you might want to report the person to the police, because one way or another, they got private information that they shouldn’t have had access to.

If the person instead shares information about a nonpersonal area of interest, check the info as best you can. Newspapers, internet, and television news channels are all potential resources. Don’t take it at face value; there are a lot of factors that influence perception, and the reports could easily be colored, distorted, or just plain fabricated.

6. Empathy

Oh boy. This one’s complex, large, and not often discussed. It’s also the one I’ve run into the most, and even been guilty of before. A sample scenario:

“Are you doing okay?” asks Super Sensitive Empath, concern etched on her face.

“Huh?” Odd question. You’re feeling kind of neutral, content, laid back. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

She gets that knowing look. “You don’t have to be polite with me. What’s wrong?”

“Um… really, I’m fine. Doing pretty well, actually.”

A patient sigh from S.S.E. “You’re angry about something. You’re trying to hide it, but I can feel it.”

Oookay. You do a cursory check on your mental state, just to humor her. All clear. “I’m pretty sure I’m not at all angry. I’m afraid you’re wrong.”

Oops. Now Super Sensitive Empath’s oh-so-wonderful and ever-reliable senses are called into question. Now she’s got something to prove. “I can feel strong anger in you. You just really don’t want to talk about it. Tell me what’s wrong. I’m worried about you.”

Exasperation shows in your voice now, and you really just want her to leave it alone. “Nothing’s wrong!”

“You’re yelling,” S.S.E. says triumphiantly. “How can you tell me nothing’s wrong when it’s obvious you’re mad?” She reels a little bit. “Your anger is painful…” She’s just sooo sensitive.

There are infinite variations of this scenario, and they’re all frustrating. I’ve found no good way to handle it when the “S.S.E.” won’t accept your description of your emotional state. One can only really address the empath, and I’ll do that in a separate article, because such an address gets lengthy.

7. Extrasensory Perception

This covers a wide range of phenomena and claims, most of which are similar enough to empathy, dreamwalking/astral projection, and channeling/aspecting to not require specific elaboration. One, however, has come up often enough in my personal social circles to merit some mention: precognition.

Telling the future is a chancy business. Your mileage may vary, but my experience leads me to believe that nothing is set in stone; the future is mutable. Divination and precognition, in my opinion, perceives only the likeliest pattern. When reading the “outcome” cards in tarot, I state it as “If this pattern continues…” because a significant change in the pattern of events or pertinent individual’s behavior will generally change the outcome.

Like channeling/aspecting, supposed precognition can be used to try to influence others towards the precog’s desires. Let’s say you want to pursuer a particular romantic relationship, and a friend is jealous or thinks such a relationship will negatively impact him in some way. He has a “bad feeling about it” that you should really heed because, after all, he’s precognitive! If you don’t believe him, it’s a personal insult! Or he “has a dream that feels like it’s about the future,” and it depicted disaster if you go forward with this relationship.

Of course, since most relationships have problems from time to time, and since more relationships fail than succeed, it’s very likely that something will go wrong in the relationship at some point. If you pursue the relationship despite the jealous friend’s dire warnings, he’ll jump on the chance to say “I told you so” and “See, I really am a precog!”, ignoring the fact that all relationships have problems. If you agree with him, then he has more weight on his side for future manipulations. Walk carefully if you have a friend like this! It is even possible that the person doesn’t mean to be manipulative, and sincerely believes he’s predicting the future, but that doesn’t make it any less manipulative.

Sometimes a person might have a legitimate precognition, but it’s cloaked in symbolism and easily misinterpreted. I know one person who had a vision of a mutual friend shooting fire from his hands at a particular event, in conflict with a young man, and a girl was involved. The visionary took this literally; he believed that magic would become more powerful by the time of that event and his friend really would throw fire around. The event came, reality remained the same, but the “fire-flinger” and the young man had a bitter, heated conflict over a girl for the entirety of the event. The vision came true—but not the way the visionary thought it would.

If someone has a supposed precognition that concerns you, take it with a hefty dose of salt. Take it as an opinion, a warning from the messenger if you wish, and weigh the potential risk. It never hurts to take a more careful look at a situation, but don’t let the precognition (which may or may not be valid) make your decision for you.

8. Auras and Energy

This has much the same issues as empathy. I have known people to say that someone they dislike has “bad energy”; I have known people to be scathing towards visitors because “their energy was off that day”. Now, I will admit to feeling wary of people I’ve just met for no reason I can perceive other than energetic, but I try to give them a chance to prove me wrong. Sometimes one’s mood can influence either one’s energy or one’s perception of others’ energy. Using such perception to belittle or manipulate is, in my opinion, distasteful and poor manners. If energy bothers you, then shield. Maintain healthy boundaries.

One abuse of perception is giving someone too much information (real or distorted) about herself, thus warping or robbing her of the identity seeking/development process and contaminating her perceptions with your own. The ethics of this require individual contemplation; what I find ethically reprehensible might be no big deal to another person. If someone shares with you information he sees “in your aura”, take it as opinion and perception, but not hard fact. If he insists that you are insulting him by expressing doubt, he’s got control issues or some serious insecurities that are his responsibility to deal with.

9. Past Lives

It amuses me that an apparent pick-up line among Pagans and New Agers is “We were lovers in a past life” (or knew each other, or were related, etc). I have watched myth-making in process, where one person shares a few details of a past life, and the second person uses those as a springboard for more details, until two people (or an entire group) have woven an extensive, oft-exciting, and dramatic story that they’re emotionally and psychologically invested in.

I have also watched attempts at mythmaking, where two people admitted feelings of recognition and connection, and the younger person kept throwing out hooks and prompts for the elder to build on. “I know I knew you! Don’t you remember this vague event…?” The older person recognized what was going on and didn’t take the bait, instead asking her for details or denying remembrance (or both). The younger person floundered in response, saying such things as “I don’t remember details; don’t you remember more about this?” or making noncommittal, vague, general responses and trying more probing questions.

Just because you were with someone in a past life doesn’t mean you should be with them in this one. Some people, wanting to belong or fit in, might come up with memories (however distorted or fabricated) of friendships or other relationships with another person or group. Some might have memories of a disliked person (or object of jealousy) as an enemy in a past life and use that as justification for their dislike.

One occult group that places a good deal of emphasis on reincarnation has, I think, a healthier view. They say that they have been lovers, friends, and bitterest enemies, but they are not the people now that they once were, and those issues are then, not now.

In Conclusion…

There are unhealthily manipulative people in any group, and that includes Pagans. Many people want their opinions heard and heeded, and will (consciously or subconsciously) seek ways to give their opinions extra weight. Perception is easily distorted and contaminable, even if the experience is honest and the communication of such is well-intentioned. Be careful, question, and check others’ perceptions against your own experiences.

Cinnamon and Myrrh

Written in October 2008.

Phoenix is this ephemeral force, an energy that is felt rather than seen, impossible to simply dissect. There is a timelessness to phoenix, of being outside of time, and thus linear time is meaningless because I/the world/existence is cyclic, spiraling, a burning helix…

When I heal, I am phoenix. When I mediate conflict, I am phoenix. It is a role, or a description of a role, as much as it is a quality of spirit. Healer-Diplomat, a fire that cleanses and purifies, illuminating, yet intensifying shadow. Eastern (and Middle Eastern) culture is strong here, elements of Chinese feng-huang, Japanese ho-ou, perhaps even Middle Eastern huma or, yes, phoenix – collectivistic social tendency, high-context consciousness, polychronic time sense.

And controlled – a tight focus – quiet intensity of mind and soul so rarely unveiled to blazing glory. There is an element of solitude to phoenix, even as it is adept at connectivity: each connection, action, reaction is moderated and calculated. I am connected, yet held apart; touching skin, touching minds, yet a membrane of discipline separates hearts and souls.

Phoenix is a controlled burn. I do not blaze unending, nor unguarded; if I burn before my time, before my nest of cinnamon and myrrh is complete, before the cycle has come to its apex, there is no rebirth. Cannot burn too hot or two cold either–each release, opening, blazing is carefully chosen. Precise. A directed wildfire to burn away dead tinder, one that if it got out of control could prove destructive rather than beneficial.

Blazing out phoenix is like taking the lampshade off my aura–a forceful exhalation of breath and the silver/copper/solar flare whooshes out around me, vague bird-shape in whitegold light, corona of my soul-sun. The connection to sky fire burns blinding-bright at these times; I am a lighthouse, my focus even more intense; I radiate heat. It is the badge of my Self, my role, my ba.

My ba, the eternal part of myself, my soul: this carries the essence of phoenix. This is what reincarnates. Hawk is now, is spirit, ka, this-life, present-moment. Phoenix is always, every-time, forever. Time means little to hawk, for only now exists. Time means little to phoenix, for all points in time overlap, intertwine, are one.

Phoenix dances words, relationships, the rise and fall of cultures. Phoenix is the subtle sensing of relationship dynamics, social fencing, the minute shifts of interaction. I am phoenix when I mediate between friends, clients, lovers–when I pour tea for a teary-eyed neighbor asking me for advice on a love triangle–when I ask questions that succeed in getting a client to rethink her assumptions–

And lest you think this is all glamour and benefit, know this: phoenix is, many times, too tightly controlled, erring on the side of self-suffocation. Too careful of boundaries, erring on the side of isolation. Too high-context, impairing and slowing communication in a low-context culture like the modern West. Sometimes, when it is time to burn, I cannot loosen control enough to let the long-stoked embers breathe into flame, and need another’s intensity to light my nest.

Sometimes I am a creature of pride and paradox. I fear change, yet I crave it. I desire order, yet need chaos. I am a dynamic creature that too often goes static. I need connection with others, yet keep my core apart from all. Balance is more important than anything, yet my balance is and must be a precarious, active balance, so difficult to maintain.

Cycles, sunflare, moonfire, controlled burning, brightness in a laser focus, active balance, healer, diplomat.

Phoenix.

Encounter

Written in November 2006.

Crisp coolness of autumn air. Naked trees stark against the sky, no leaves to obstruct observation of the ground. Stiff brown leaf-fall highlighting mouse-movement. Ripe nuts and fruist enticing squirrels into harvest-frenzy.

Autumn is good for the prey, and so autumn is good for the hunt… and the hawk.

We walk the woods often this autumn – the changing one, the cat, and the hawk. A river runs cold and shallow, banked with rocks and bridged with fallen trees. The cat leaps with fluid grace to one fallen tree, stalking its water-worn trunk; she is all feline now, and stares wide and fascinated at the shiftings beneath the river’s surface. The changing one watches without motion or sound, entranced.

Branches crackle and dead bark falls as the cat leaps into a pine and up, clawing and pulling from limb to limb. The upper branches seem too small to support even her tiny frame, but she paws at the base of each and they hold. She crouches thirty feet up, wide-eyed and silent and watching.

I am caught between feathers and skin, staring up into trees I cannot reach, wings loose and uncertain. Hawk wants altitude; hawk wants the vantage of height to watch and wait and listen. The trees stand bared on a steep hillside; I am only partway up its height.

Move.

The hilltop calls. I crabstep upwards, careful, awkward; each step crunches sticks and leaves. The ground is noise and treachery, shifting and slipping beneath my clenching claw-feet. I’m aware of the sound of hissing, soft and wary, before I’m aware that it’s me, beak agape and breath hissing past an inflexible tongue.

Ground is not safe!

Stop, stare at the cold-autumn blue past a lattice of branches. Safer up there, more natural – but I can’t reach it.

Get higher.

Step, crunch, step. Careful of the weak knee, watch the sliding ground. There – big fallen tree, well covered, and I can make my cramped gawkish way up to its middle and perch, high above the cat and the river and the changing one.

Hawk-thoughts fill my head; I am all beak and blood, now. Feathers fluff against the autumn chill; talons grip the weathered tree. I am immobile, all silent observation, watching for every minute motion.

There.

Leaf-crunch, fur-rustle; the cat has returned to earth. She stares and sniffs, prowls on all fours. I watch, unseen; she creeps silent behind a tree as the changing one returns from the river, and he does not notice her nor me.

Skinside Out

Written in February 2006.

What is therianthropy? The usual definition is something along the lines of “the state of a person being strongly connected to a nonhuman animal species in some way”. What is generally meant by that is that therians are humans who are also, in some manner, non-human animals.

There are all sorts of structures and rules and addendums that go along with this definition in the online therianthropy community, of course. But, like anyone else, I have my personal definition, and it’s a wordless feeling that doesn’t quite translate to a nice dictionary-style sentence. It requires poetry and imagery and metaphor. So that’s what you get.

Therianthropy is animality. It’s a state of being, a state of living – walking about in an ill-fitting skin, mind caught awkwardly between human and animal. Animal floods through your veins, flutters in your head and heart, twitches your muscles. It is what one is.

Therianthropy is human and animal combined. It is having a furred thing under your skin, or something feathered or scaled or even antennaed. It is living as a human, born and raised and embodied as a human, but something wild whispers in your veins and stalks inside your mind, and sometimes the animal-that-is-you peers out of your human eyes.

Therianthropy is living skinside out. Your fur is on the wrong side, itching underneath the surface. You have fangs and tails and claws, yet they exist only to your senses, overlapping and underlapping with human skin and human hands. You don’t quite fit inside your hide; your body’s the wrong shape.

Sometimes it feels right, being this mixture of human and animal; it feels like the most natural thing in the world, to the point where you can’t imagine one without the other. Sometimes it feels wrong to the point where you want to rip your skin off like a confining eggshell. Sometimes you want the animal with its too-strong flight-instincts or fight-instincts gone, you want to be rid of the reactions that get people looking at you oddly, you want the instinctive reactions that nearly get you in vehicle accidents to disappear. Or sometimes you want to shed your human hide, become on the outside what you often feel like on the inside and lose all human thought and worry, become just a cat or just a bird or just a wolf and not something stuck oddly between that and human.

And then, of course, logic sets in and you have to admit that life as an animal in the wild would be short and brutal and you’d probably not survive long; and yet you can’t imagine life without the wild creeping under your skin.

Why are there therianthropes? What is the nature of this condition? What is its cause? Honestly, I don’t know – and equally honestly, I don’t really care. Debating whether it’s spiritual, psychological, magical, allegorical, archetypal, genetic, chemical, totemic, or something else entirely is a purely intellectual exercise, and one without any real meaning beyond that.

All I know for certain is that I am human and I am bird, from skin to soul. And really, as far as therianthropy goes, that’s all I truly need to know.