Today 26 November 2018 – XX day of Hathor, the third month of the Egyptian Lunar Calendar (in the CDXIX Great Year of Ra according to the Egyptian Civil Calendar).
(quotes from “Egyptian Religious Calendar: CDXVIII-CDXIX Great Year of Ra (2018CE)”. The new edition of the Egyptian Religious Calendar for the next year 2019 is available on amazon: http://a.co/d/clZRHoW On “Amente Nofre-membership community” you can find the daily posts with the full calendar: https://www.patreon.com/amentenofre/overview )
Religious Prescriptions: Adverse day
Religious Festivities: The XX day of the lunar month is sacred to Horus in the Great Palace. It is the “Feast of Choice” and Upuaut is the God of the Feast.
– “Mysteries of Osiris at Abydos (thirteen-day festivity, XI day).” [Ramses II, Abydos]
– Feast of Sokar, day VIII, Drawing-forth the ‘Ben-ben’ (…). [T. Ramses III]
– “Feast of the Offerings on the Altar (…).” [T. Behdet, c. Hathor]
– “Feast of the resting in ‘Djebu’, Appearing daily.” (five-day festivity, III day) [T. Ombos, west side]
– Mysteries of Osiris at Philae and Abaton (nineteen-day festivity, XVII day). [cfr. Fêtes d’Égypte, Françoise Perpillou-Thomas]
image:
Temple of the Goddess Isis at Philae (now on the Agilkia island): the inner face of the Entrance-Gate of the First Pylon, view from the Open Court; beyond the Entrance-Gate, the Forecourt and the Western Colonnade
No being should be shamed for their sexual choices. Want to have a lot of sex with a lot of different people (with safety and consent)? Awesome! Don’t want to have sex at all? Awesome!
Do as thou Wilt!
There is a tradition that those who are marginalized will embrace the hateful words used by their oppressors, so I won’t try to correct someone who uses it in that context. Personally, I see your reasoning and don’t need the word “slut” to express myself.
The god of the word would like everyone to immediately stop using the slang term “thot.” Not only is it confusing for him, he does not condone slut-shaming in any form. Please remove “thot” from your vocabulary. (He’s asking nicely for now….)
Change of plans. Probably best that my local spirit shrine
wait until the spring anyway. My amazing wife came up with a better idea.
I was born in the suburbs of Chicago, but Michigan will
always be home to me. When I was a kid we had two homes. No, we weren’t rich,
per-se. We were certainly better off than a lot of people, but it was a
testament to the power of solidarity that at one time the American middle-class
could afford a summer home. My grandmother, who came over from Poland as a
little girl, worked for thirty years at General Foods in Chicago. No college
degree, a woman alone in the workforce, but they had a union. The union
demanded that the workers got as much of their fair share as possible. Can you
imagine? I’m glad for the advances in civil rights this country has made, but
racism and sexism are still rampant, and we have lost so much in terms of
worker rights. But I digress.
Our second home was in a place called Sister Lakes. I still
dream about it. Those endless summers spent swimming in the lake. I never knew
how lucky I was.
But my grandmother, a woman who based her identity on work,
died shortly after her retirement. With the pension gone, my mom worked three
jobs to try and keep what we had. A losing battle. She wore herself down to a
nub. Unable to work anymore, she sold the house in Illinois and retired to our
home in Michigan.
I resented it so much at the time. Moving from the city,
after going to one of the largest high schools in the state of Illinois, to a
high school with only three-hundred students. That was a culture shock. I’m
glad for it now, because I can see both perspectives. I know why people in
rural areas think the way they do and I appreciate the more cosmopolitan attitude
of the city. I can talk to people with different backgrounds and relate to
their struggles.
I ended up living in Michigan for twenty years, most of it
in Kalamazoo. Even that far inland, one thing, one power, one spirit remained a
constant—Lake Michigan. I imagine people who live near an ocean understand what
I mean. You seldom look at it, don’t even know it when you’re under its domain,
but you feel it. It has gravity. It effects the weather and the seasons and the
air you breathe. Only the gods themselves rival its power and influence.
A strange thing happened when I moved to Indianapolis a
decade ago. I was never a navigator and always had a piss-poor sense of
direction. But as soon as I moved to Indianapolis, I always knew which way was
North. I could feel the gravity. My blood called out to it. I soon realized
that I always had a sense which way Lake Michigan lies.
Maybe I’m too big for my britches. Maybe I shouldn’t be
trying to build a relationship with a spirit so powerful right now. Yet I feel like
the Lake is family. One of my ancestors. My grandmother bought that house
because all of her friends and family bought houses in Michigan if they
could. So maybe it is family. Maybe this is the bridge for me, the link between
ancestor veneration and the spirits of the land.
Next Sunday, my wife and I will drive to Lake Michigan and
bottle up some of that water so we always have it near. There will be a ritual.
I don’t know what it will be yet. All I know is that as I sit here and write this,
tears flowing down my face, is that I want to go home.
Yeats introduced Smith to the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, which she joined in 1901 and in the process met Waite. When the Golden Dawn splintered due to personality conflicts, Smith moved with Waite to the Independent and Rectified Rite of the Golden Dawn (or Holy Order of the Golden Dawn). In 1909, Waite commissioned Smith to produce a tarot deck with appeal to the world of art, and the result was the unique Waite-Smith tarot deck. Published by William Rider & Son of London, it has endured as the world’s most popular 78-card tarot deck. The innovative cards depict full scenes with figures and symbols on all of the cards including the pips, and Smith’s distinctive drawings have become the basis for the design of many subsequent packs
In 1907, Alfred Stieglitz gave Smith an exhibition of paintings in New York at his Little Galleries of the Photo-Secession (also known as gallery 291), making Smith the first painter to have a show at what had been until then a gallery devoted exclusively to the photographic avant-garde. Stieglitz was intrigued by Smith’s synaesthetic sensibility; in this period, Smith would paint visions that came to her while listening to music.
