At the ends of the universe is a blood red cord that binds life to death, will to destiny, and each of us to the other.
Let the knot of that red sash, which cradles the hips of the Goddess, bind in us the ends of life and dream.
We are each of us with our own share of hopes and misgivings.
Let our thoughts lay together in peace.
At our deaths let the bubbles of blood on our lips taste as sweet as berries.
Give us not consolation, give us magic.
Give us the spell of living well. We rise and walk.
The sky arcs ever around and the world spreads itself beneath our feet.
We are bound mind to Mind and heart to Heart.
No shadow exists between our footsteps and the will of Goddess. We walk in harmony, heaven in one hand, earth in the other.
We are the knot where the two worlds meet.
Red magic courses through our veins like the blood of Isis ~ magic of Magic, spirit of Spirits.
We are proof of the power of Goddess.
We are dust and water walking.
From the book of coming forth AKA the Egyptian Book of the Dead
Translation by Normandi Ellis
I am a blue heron, pure as bone. I know the stirrings of the Nile, the source where the river rises overlapped by trees, where flamingos dip and wade, where fish are plentiful. I fly beneath an arch of trees straight into the eye of heaven. I make a long journey amid mud houses, singing. I’ve paused on the river bank and stayed to watch the transformation of butterflies.
I was given a name on earth and a place in heaven. And I remember the quiet coming of goddesses along the river, baskets of fish on their heads, faces shining, feet caked with mud. I’ve wandered into empty temples at night and looked on the rough faces of dying gods and paused with wonder at the shallow caves where the god-seekers smile and wait, clothed only in their own light. I know the cool mind of blue sky and the hot mysteries of earth. And I found my own goddesses while pecking seeds and resting on one leg watching reflections float on the water.
Talk is unnecessary. We’ve been seduced by many words, many colours, many bright flowers. I speak for the quiet language of sun, the yawn and shudder of a new born lion covered with black markings. I speak for the goddesses hidden in things that cry: Uncover your faces. Through your own light, come. There is fire within you three thousand times over that you do not yet know. From your bodies you give birth to all time and its seasons. The goddess you seek is within. The truth you chase lies between your own eyebrows. Look again with a different eye.
I am the blue heron, the messenger, a reborn and dying goddess. I celebrate neither birth nor death. Whatever is given me, I take like a fish from the water. By day I exist because I exist. By night I sail above the river, a single star wise in the darkness.
From Awakening Osiris, The Egyptian Book of the Dead. Translation by Normandi Ellis
I’ve spent the last three days with my Arch Priestess, Arch Druidess also known to us as our beloved Hieromum in hospice.
She still hangs on though her body is shutting down steadily. It has been a time of joy and a time of great sadness spent with my priestess sisters and our one priest.
I’m honoured to be able to show her how much I have loved her over the years and I selfishly hate the loss that is coming.
Dying is a process much like birth and proceeds at each person’s time table.
So we share joy and tears and prayers and love with the people all over the world that loved her.
May she rest in the wings of her beloved Isis and Nepthys
The deer is seen as the sovereign of the Greenwood and a great deal of legend is attached to the White Hart.
At home in the heart of the forest and surefooted on narrow hillside paths, hinds are nurturing and protective of their young at midsummer.
A person with a gentle, tender and loving heart, whose quiet wisdom brings healing. They could have qualities of shyness and oversensitivity; difficult to get close to initially, they are loyal and deep.
A person happy and healthy.
(In this tarot card the deer sits still on a grassy mound, whilst the vibrant, healing, vitalised air of summer swirls in currents behind it. The arrows stand still in the ground.)