Category Archives: god-dess

Awakening Isis

As the teal-blue waters of the Nile swirl and eddy upon the rocky shores of Her island; as the daily rebirth of Re fills the horizon with colors of peach and purple and red; as Mother Night smiles at the glory of Her reborn child—every morning, in Her beautiful temple at Philae, the Great Goddess Isis was awakened in Her sacred image.

This morning, She was awakened in Her smaller temple, the shrine I have made for Her in my home, and the lamp I have set for Her in my heart.

My ritual is not the ritual in the ancient temples. But the intent is the same: to call in, renew, and reawaken Her ka, Her ba, and Her akh—at least the sparks of each that reside within Her sacred image on my altar—so that She may be present with me and I may be present with Her. I honor Her, awaken Her in peace, and place before Her the Offering of the Morning.

As I enter Her shrine, my hands crossed upon my breast, I bow to Her veiled image. I light the charcoal, prepare the incense, a special blend made for Her by artisans of sacred scent. I pour pure Nile water into the libation cup and ready the libation bowl.

And then I sing to Her. “Isis is the wisdom that is given in the Boat of the Morning. Isis is the wisdom that is given in the Boat of the Night. Isis is the wisdom that is given in the Boat of the Morning. Isis is the wisdom that is given in the Boat of the Night. Isis, Isis, Isis.” I continue to sing until the chant seems complete.

Now, I make the gesture of Opening the Shrine, flinging wide for Her the doors of Her shrine. I vibrate Her name, “Isis!” I unveil Her beautiful image and look upon it.

I kneel before Her, then sit.

I open my awareness. As I breathe deeply, the lamp in my heart grows brighter.

I open my awareness. I sense the ka of the Goddess’ living power like a bright tingle on the nape of my neck.

I open my awareness. I turn my face upward and envision Her ba—in the form of Her sacred raptor, the black kite—swoop down from above, fast and sure. It alights upon Her sacred image and nestles softly into Her lap. All the while, I am chanting Her name in my mind, in my heart, in my mouth.

I open my awareness again. Her spirit, Her akh is coming. It is like the welcome light of dawn after a long, dark night. It is like water to those who thirst. It is like a needed, deep breath that makes my chest shudder as I take it in.

I say aloud to Her: “A spark from Your Mysterious Heart, Isis, resides within this sacred image. I honor that spark as I honor You Yourself, Great Goddess.”

Quietly, and with my awareness opened to the ends of the earth, I vibrate Her name three more times. I feel Her ka. I see Her ba. I sense Her akh.

And I say aloud to Her, “Awaken, O Isis Within, to this beautiful day. Be welcomed into morning! Awaken, O Isis Within, to the joy of the day. Be welcomed into today!”

I take up the incense and place it upon the charcoal. The resins and herbs and flowers burn, releasing their scent. Taking up the censer, I elevate it toward Her image. “May Your eyes be opened to the beauty of the day,” I say. “May Your nostrils be opened to the sweet scent of this spice. May Your ears be opened always to the voices of Your children.”

I replace the censer and take up the libation cup of pure Nile water. I elevate it toward Her image, then pour it, very slowly, into the waiting libation bowl. “May Your lips be opened to the sweetness of this cool water,” I say. “May Your heart be opened to Your people this day. May Your body, O image of Isis, be opened to the beautiful energy of Isis the Goddess, Ever-Living.”

I am seated once more. I become aware of my heart. I breathe and let the lamp burn brighter. And brighter. I am aware of the sacred image of Isis before me. I feel Her presence. I sense Her heart. I breathe my fire into Her heart. She returns it to mine. I know Her image breathes. I breath Her breath. I am illumined in Her dawning fire. I speak Her words for Her: “I am that Golden morning that arises and shines each day. Splendid are the ornaments upon My brilliant brow. I am the One Who glows in the Sun. I am the Eye of Awakening. I am the Greening of the Earth. I am the Joy of the Day.”

I let myself sit in Her Presence for a while, enfolded in Her wings. When I am ready, I stand and say to Her, “Awaken in joy, Isis, awaken in joy. Amma, Iset.”

Isis on the First Day

Do you remember the first time Isis made Herself—really important—in your life?

Copper repousée Winged Isis by Raya

For me, it’s been a long time. In fact, I can tell you that I have been Her devotee for most of my life now. And I have been Her dedicated priestess for decades.

Of course, even before any formal declarations, I’d been dancing with Her for a while. I would often find myself reading about Her, looking at images of Her, wondering about Her.

Purchase your copy of this art here.

And the crazy thing was that, at the time, I was actually looking for a Divine relationship; I was looking for my Goddess. But in my youthful rebelliousness, I thought a more obscure Goddess would be more appropriate for the uniqueness—okay, weirdness—that is me. Isis, I thought, was way too ordinary; everybody knows Isis. At least Her more mysterious Dark Sister Nephthys should be my Goddess. I must have closed the door in Isis’ face half a dozen different times. You’re cringing; so am I.

But Isis is a Goddess and I am only a thick-skulled human. My lack of commitment did not put Her off at all. She simply kept coming back and tapping on my shoulder (this is Her way; please see Isis the Ass-Kicker for more on that).

Alas, the story I’m telling now has no riveting suspense. Eventually, She just wore me down and I began preparing to dedicate myself to Her.

I did my research. I wrote my ritual. I made my purifications and prayers. On the appointed day, I began the rite. But about halfway through, I began to feel very faint. VERY faint. (You see, in those long ago days, this often happened to me in the presence of magical energy; I’d go very pale and start to pass out. Many is the time when my fellow ritualists had to stop mid-rite and prop me up for a while.)

Isis of Coptos, now in the Turin Egyptian Museum

Nonetheless, I was determined to finish the ritual and did so while sitting on the floor in front of the altar. Part of the rite involved formally asking the Goddess to accept me as Her priestess. The short answer I got was, “No.” But the longer answer was, “Go study and come back in a year.”

So, that’s exactly what I did. A year later, I reworked the same ritual, didn’t faint, and was accepted. Not long after that, I got a strange and wonderful confirmation of Her acceptance, too. A woman I barely knew came to me on a mission from the Goddess. I think she was as confused by it as I was. She’d had a dream of Isis that was so strong that she simply had to act on it. In the dream, Isis told her to come to me and give me a gift of earrings in the form of a Winged Isis. She did—and I knew that Isis had truly claimed me.

The path of devotion to Isis isn’t always what we expect. In fact, I don’t think it should always be what we expect. When things take an odd turn, I usually consider it a sign that I’m in contact with true Divine energy. If things go exactly as I thought they would, it can mean that I’m merely fulfilling my own expectations. While that’s not always true, it is indeed something to be aware of—a warning that we may be talking to ourselves rather than talking to Isis.

Isis’ name in hieroglyphs, from Abydos

It is good to remember how it was on that First Day. To remember the circumstances again. To feel the feelings again. As you likely know, the idea of the First Day was extremely important to the ancient Egyptians. The renewal and re-creation of the First Day, the First Time, the First Occasion, the Zep Tepi in Egyptian, was the magic they were continually Working. Every temple was the place of the First Day, every day. Every ritual reenacted the First Day, every time.

I don’t know about you, but I am feeling the need for the renewal of that First Day right now. And so, I will do as the ancients did. I will tend the shrine. I will work the rituals. I will make offering. I will go back to the beginning and do the rites and meditations I did when I was first coming to know Her—the ones you will find in Isis Magic and Offering to Isis. I know they will different for me this time. And yet, I know they will still take me back to that First Day. And I will hope to be, like Osiris, renewed and reborn under the Wings of Isis. Amma, Iset. Grant that it be so.

Does Isis Ever Speak to You in Poetry?

For some of us, poetry is one of the ways in which we can express our feelings or experiences with the Divine. Whether we compose it ourselves or discover a poem that has the perfect words to touch our hearts and say what we’d want to say.

Hesiod Listening to the Inspiration of the Muse; Edmond-François Aman-Jean, French, 1890

It isn’t easy to be a poet. You can wrestle with words for days and still come up empty-handed. I find that if I just sit down with the intention of writing a poem about Isis, I get—well—pretty much nothing.

The way it works best for me, is to poise my fingers over the keyboard, clear my mind, close my eyes, invoke the Goddess…and start typing. (The trick is keeping your fingers over the right keys. Otherwise you get rhwewosqeonger.)

What comes out is by no means finished. It’s more like notes for a poem. Then I work with it and shape it, making it into something, and in that process discover its meaning—for me, for now. 

The value of this for me is that I often get images that I would not have come up with in my normal state of consciousness. Sometimes, they don’t even make logical sense, but they do make a kind of poetic sense. They can be odd and beautiful. Sometimes I edit out the strangenesses. Sometimes I just leave them in, hoping that they’ll communicate what the Goddess intended.

To show you what I mean, I’m going to do a little experiment right now. [NOTE: This is a repost. But when I first wrote it, it was done “live” and in real time.]

So here we go. Fingers poised over keyboard…opening…invoking…and typing this:

long black wings against a blue white sky clouds bending into circles interpenetrating the blackness of feather of feature of faith clean sharp shriek of light coming into my mind clearing feathered fog leaving its own breath I am hearing you now

That’s what it looks like first out of my brain, and inspired in whispered hints from some Muse-form of Isis. It sort of reminds me of Symbolist poetry from the late 19th/early 20th century.

Now, I’ll break it up into phrases and add punctuation as remembered from my mental “hearing” of it:

Long black wings against a blue-white sky. Clouds bend into circles, interpenetrating the blackness of feather, of feature, of faith. A clean, sharp shriek of light comes into my mind, clearing feathered fog and leaving its own breath. I am hearing you now.

I’m starting to understand what this is about. It’s about the subject of this post—receiving poetic inspiration from the Goddess. So it is an image of what that inspiration can be like.

Now, working with it a bit more, I get this:

Long, dark wings flash against a purified sky. Blue-white ghost clouds move and spiral, interpenetrated by the blackness of feather, of feature, of faith. In my mind, a clean, sharp shriek of light clears feathered fog, leaves its own breath. I am hearing you now.

Diego y yo, Frida Kahlo; Frida and Diego served as muses for each other

I’ll leave this as it is for now. If I had intended to keep this, I would probably work with it a bit more. It’s not quite there yet, but it’s just a quick example of what the Goddess might inspire. 

Now, art of any kind isn’t quick and easy. In fact, it takes time and practice. But if you are at all inclined, I’d urge you to try it. In your own way, of course. And in your own medium. Maybe you’ll paint instead. Maybe you’ll sing. But however it comes to you, don’t be concerned with the perfection of your results. She doesn’t care about that. Isis will always gladly take your work as an offering of devotion and love.

(I have a question about this little bit of Isis poetry: That final phrase, “I am hearing you now.” Is that the poet hearing the Goddess, or the Goddess hearing the poet? What do you think?)