Crystals and Sacred Sites Light becoming: Travelling with healing intent Judy Hall c. Tore Lomsdalen It may seem absurd, it may seem preposterous, but we would insist that the journey describe d can become a real on e, on several leve ls of understan ding. The reader will have an opportunity of glimpsing within the lost realms of Egypt, and his or her own psyche, wonders that the modern world has almost forgotten. Alan Richardson and B. Walker-John The Inner Guide to Egypt.
It may seem absurd, it may seem preposterous, but we would insist that the journey described can become a real one, on several levels of understanding.The reader will have an opportunity of glimpsing within the lost realms ofEgypt, and his or her own psyche, wonders that the modern world has almostforgotten. Alan Richardson and B. Walker-John The Inner Guide to Egypt.
Enter into this account with your heart not your head! It cannot be understood
rationally. Do not try to make sense of it, sense it instead. The mythology of
ancient Egypt is complex and evolved over three and a half thousand years so
there are many versions. Allow yourself to enter into their world.
.
In the beginningAs I have always suspected, you can be ‘here’ and ‘there’ at the same time. Thatthere are such things as parallel lives and different timeframes that spin and flowtogether in an eternal present is a given to me as I frequently time-walk in mykarmic healing and astrological work, weaving between the worlds. But I was toexperience this much more personally through a journey up the Nile from Luxor toAswan.
My much treasured friend and publisher Margaret Cahill of Flying HorsePress was diagnosed with mantle cell lymphoma just after 21.12.12 and had her firstintensive chemo four-day session just before I left for Egypt in February 2013.
Her blog ‘Under cover of darkness: my journey through mantle cell lymphoma’quickly became addictive reading for me with its incredible depth of insight andinner-sight. Thanks to the wonders of modern technology and ancient metaphysics,we would keep in touch while I was travelling down the Nile. I knew that the journeywould not be an ordinary one but even I was surprised at what transpired. Itcertainly confirmed what Lao Tzu said aeons ago:
The further one goes, the less one knows,Therefore the sage knows without going about,Understands without seeing,
And accomplishes without action.
I took a photograph of Margaret and her partner Stephen Gawtry andcarried it on the eleven day journey along the Nile. This was to be much more than asurrogacy trip though. Margaret and Stephen’s spirits were imbued in thephotograph in the same way that the Egyptian gods interpenetrated the objectsthat represented them. The priests of old would have understood totally howMargaret could be in a hospital bed receiving intensive chemo and having coffee andcocktails overlooking the Nile at the same time. To quote Alan Richardson:
This [journey] is about exploring that realm known as Ancient Egypt. Not theEgypt which exists today… but Egypt as a state of mind, a level ofconsciousness which lies far beneath our own... To the Ancient Egyptianevery aspect of their nation was a lower analogue of spiritual realities, thewhole being an earthly expression of the universe and the soul of man…Explore one, and you explored the other also. To the Ancient Egyptians,there was not a great deal of difference. (Inner Guide to Egypt)
Margaret and her partner Stephen Gawtry. For the pink hat story read her blog!
Mission statement
Our lovely guide Tam kept telling the Solos group with whom we were travelling‘don’t forget we’re on a mission folks’. His mission was to introduce us to whatremained of ancient Egypt - and to get us to see as many sunrises as possible itseemed. Our smaller group within a group had a mission within a mission, to becomepart of those wonders and use them to assist Margaret’s healing. I had originallythought I was going down the Nile to relax, revisit favourite haunts, share previousexperiences and do some inner work. Well… yes. I did. But! There was to be muchmore to it, so many layers and levels interweaving. ‘Here’ and ‘there’ became one in away that the ancient Egyptians knew so well. A kind of metaphysical internet was inplace. What the ancient Egyptians called ‘the intelligence of the heart’.
The intelligence of the heart
Ten members of my Glastonbury summer astrological retreat had expressed an
interest in joining the trip but one by one they were unable to do so. You do knowhow to make God, or the gods, laugh don’t you? You tell them your plans. However,fellow astrologers Terrie Birch, Patricia Korsgaard and Tore Lomsdalen were theperfect travelling companions.
The healing companions: Terrie Birch, Patricia Korsgaard, Tore Lomsdalen,Judy Hall ready for the last night on the boat.
Tore kept me in touch with Margaret on the technological internet and took
great photos, and Terrie and Patricia turned out to be talented psychicphotographers as well as helping to create the metaphysical internet. I didn’t take acamera because I was exploring Normandi Ellis’s idea that, when walking throughthe timeless temples and tombs, you enter into the book inscribed on the walls andthe book enters into you. Egyptian magic. Which chimed nicely with thoughts I’dbeen pondering for sometime. After all, it was in Egypt that the ‘as above so below,as within so without’ premise took root and flowered most strongly. All is indeedone.
As the scarab is a symbol of rebirth in Egypt and pink was Margaret’s colourof the moment, as soon as we boarded the boat I bought a beautiful pink alabaster
scarab to represent her soul and carried it with me wherever I went as a point ofcontact. The scarab symbolism was to play an integral part in our journey, moresignificant than I had imagined. It is the sign of regenesis (spiritual rebirth whichshould perhaps be written regen-isis, the coming again of Isis, in honour of thegoddess), and regeneration, a new life to come. The Egyptians considered that theheart was the most important organ in the body – it was the seat of the soul andsignified the essence of life. It held all feelings such as courage, love, joy and
sorrow; and the power of thought. The heart was the keeper of the soul’s secretsand acted as its conscience. Scarab amulets like the one I had bought were placedover the heart of the mummy in the tomb to preserve the person’s vital power asthey journeyed through the Other World.
c. Terrie Birch
Placing the photo and the scarab at Kom Ombo, note the rainbow of lightabove my hat brim and violet light over the photo (see The Big P.S). There’s an
ancient Egyptian spirit hovering to the left above Stephen for those with eyes tosee.
The Book of the Dead, a guidebook for the journey through to the afterlife,has spells for preserving the heart - which would be weighed against the Feather ofMaat (truth, justice and perfect balance) after physical death to see if the soulwas fit for rebirth into the spiritual life that followed. The heart would alwaysspeak truth and some of the spells implore the heart not to reveal guilty secretsbut to speak instead on behalf of the deceased soul. It clearly had a life – and averacity – of its own. For me the trip through the underworld was a symbol of the
death of Margaret’s cancerous cells and regeneration into a healthy - and united -body and soul once more. We have to remember that for the ancient Egyptiansdeath on any level was just stepping into another world, earth being theantechamber to greater things. The Afterlife was one of ‘light and joy, energy andcommunion, where loved ones could be re-united for ‘millions and millions of years’,
and where the living could search for their completeness.’ (Richardson).
Weighing the heart before The Lord Osiris, papyrus copy. Anubis and Anumut, thedevourer of souls, sitting beneath the balance while Thoth reads from the Records.The heart of the deceased is on the left of the balance, the feather of Maat onthe right. Once the test has been passed, the deceased is taken forward to meetOsiris supported by Isis and Nephthys. Here the soul is granted new life.
Luxor (Ancient Thebes) is according to Alan Richardson and Billie Walker-John the place above all others where we can give birth to ourselves so it seemedfitting that we were setting off from Luxor and would return to spend a final fewdays there. As they say ‘It is the place where our initiation is completed and yet
begins.’
The transmutation of the Lady of the Flame
Continuing to amuse God - or should that be the gods? – with our plans, we wentfirst to Karnak Temple in Luxor with the larger group. We were ushered to thehuge scarab statue of Kepera, the dung beetle who pushes the sun around the skyduring the day. We placed the photo of Margaret on the statue and began toprocess the traditional seven counter-clockwise revolutions around the statue forhealing and good luck. Kepera is ‘light becoming’, the sun rising out of darkness, anauspicious and appropriate start. One lone tourist circled in the other direction.
Dyspraxic? Or simply from the other side of the world? It felt deeply significant,like the dance of the cosmos. Maybe she was acting as a retrograde planet (planetssometimes appear to move backwards in the sky from the perspective of earth) orwas she representing Chiron the wounded healer ‘planet’ who has a very eccentricorbit that weaves between three planets interconnecting them?
c. Terrie Birch.Placing the photo while the Solos group circle, watched by bemused onlookers, mostwere unaware of the service they were performing for Margaret but it all helped!
Breaking away from the larger group, Terrie, Patricia, Tore and I set off tovisit the Sekhmet Sanctuary that featured in my Crystals and Sacred Sites book. Ihad my first experience with the powerful statue of the goddess in that sanctuary
twenty five years ago, which I drew on for my novel Torn Clouds. I always pay myrespects to My Lady when I arrive in Luxor and was determined to do so again.Having passed through three ‘no entry’ signs, I was looking for the baksheesh manwho holds the keys and who, for a ‘tip’ opens the temple, when out of a deepexcavation in the foundations up popped a French archaeologist. ‘Temple closed!’ she
said firmly. Message finally received and understood. My original intention ofconnecting the temples with the chakras had already been thwarted by the tourcompany changing the order in which we visited them, putting Edfu and the OtherSide (the West bank at Luxor) on hold until the return trip. Time for a rethink. Iwas learning that this journey was to be about being with the flow rather thandoing, and that it had a pattern that was not dictated by my conscious mind:definitely an intelligence of the heart.
Sekhmet is a goddess of healing but first she was an instrument ofdestruction sent out by her father Ra (the sun) to kill off his subjects who wererunning amok (see The Story of Re below) – analogous to Margaret’s rogue cancer
cells and the effect of the chemo. Sekhmet was lured into drinking a lake of beerlaced, in one version of the myth with blood-like pomegranate, to calm her when thekilling got out of control. Pomegranate juice, a Venus-attuned substance, featuredlarge in Margaret’s healing regime at the time but clearly she didn’t need Sekhmet’sfiery power even though Sekhmet had later become a goddess of healing. Margaretneeded extreme gentleness. Another healing goddess, Hathor (Venus), I was nowtold, would be more suitable as the goddess of love and rebirth would holdMargaret safely in her arms while every cell in her body was transmuted, as wouldthe Divine Mother Isis (the Moon), the eternal renewer.
c. Judy Hall 1997
Sekhmet in her temple, the shaft over her head is arranged so that she isilluminated by the sun at midday.
Sekhmet breathing fire-light. My apologies to the photographer whose name I havemislaid but it was my screensaver for many years. I’ll be happy to attribute it.
The Temple of Man
Luxor Temple is where Amon Ra and his consort went for their yearly honeymoon. Atemple of celebration of joy and the fertility of life. Walking the long avenue ofsphinxes that leads from Karnak to Luxor (which has recently been uncovered oncemore) is more than just a journey from once place to another. The repetitive buteach slightly different face of the sphinxes (human heads on lions’ bodiessymbolising the solar principle incarnated into human form and made conscious)open up a new level of consciousness if walked with due attention. The temple is‘skewed’, changing orientation as it progresses. To Schwaller de Lubicz this templewas a plan of the perfect man laid out on the ground, representing ‘as above so
below’ and, according to John Anthony West‘s interpretation of his work ‘Luxor isbased upon and incorporates the laws relating to the creation of man and hisspiritual development and destiny. It may be seen as a kind of grand library ofgenesis whose ‘books’ are the measures, proportions and harmonies of the buildingitself as well as the reliefs and inscriptions.’ Definitely a temple for being in ratherthan trying to intellectually understand it (I’d tried that on a previous visit and itmade my head hurt). Not surprising then that I’ve totally forgotten what occurred
there during this current trip! At least for now. But, as Alan Richardson says, it is aplace of self-initiation. The place where you can take responsibility for yourself andfor your own light.
c. Terrie Birch
Walking the avenue of Sphinxes. Below, Tore has attracted the attention ofan orb. (For a discussion on orbs see The Big P.S)
The most potent hour. Luxor Temple just before sunset. Its one remaining obeliskpointing skyward to earth the power of the sun and recharge the temple’s batteries
This temple welcomes you during the hours of darkness, I love it there justafter the sun has set, so calm and reflective no matter how many people mill around
you. The central ‘holy of holies’ was built by Alexander the Great. I’m particularlyfond of him as his birth was apparently foretold by an ancient Egyptain pharaoh bymeans crystal horoscope (see the MA dissertation on my website). Having predictedthat Alexander’s mother would be impregnated by Amon Ra, the pharaoh dressed upas Ra and ensured that the prediction came true. Luxor is also home to the moongod Khonsu and this temple’s hypostyle hall pillar bases mirror the phases of themoon (more of Khonsu later, see The Big P.S).
A quick aside
Before sailing, the four healing companions made a trip to Luxor museum. What
most caught our attention was the crocodile god Sobek (more of him later, see KomOmbo) with Amenhopis III, who built the amazing Mut temple at Karnak. There wasa very powerful healing line passing through this statue and through the uppergalleries where another of my old friends, Aken’aton, who featured in my novel TornClouds was displayed. This was to be one of my few trips to Egypt during which Idid not visit Temple Mut to see how much more had been uncovered. 1500 statuesof My Lady Sekhmet have been recovered there and the sacred birthing lake is one
of the most significant and beautiful in all Egypt. But there was no time so it willhave to wait for the next visit. Roll on the Winter Solstice!
c. Terrie Birch
Amenhophis III, the compassionate face of Ancient Egypt, Luxor Temple
Signs and serendipities
Synchronicity was all around us throughout the journey. After we sailed, I was ondeck experimenting with the ‘Wave over Water’ hieroglyph that looks like the toplayer of the glyph for Aquarius - the sun was passing through Aquarius for the tripwhich culminated with a new moon in Aquarius and Chinese new year. I’d
been told that the hieroglyph was a healing symbol, drawing energy in when pointedone way and sending it out when facing the other but hieroglyphs have many levelsof meaning, which I was keen to experience. As I held it, ‘Bridge Over TroubledWater’ floated out of the boat’s sound system. It was part of my connection withMargaret. An etheric cord linking our hearts. Perfect! David Furlong has suggested that this sign looks very much like an electricalcharge on an oscilloscope. ‘Two distinct elements - wind and water - are involved or,
more exactly, the unseen moving the seen.’ And he asks ‘could this therefore be asymbol of the action of the invisible world on the physical universe?’ Very much sofrom my experience!
c. David Furlong
Hathor’s hands offering the wave over water hieroglyph, Temple of Seti I, Abydos(David Furlong http://www.kch42.dial.pipex.com/egypttour_abydos.htm)
I had printed out the symbol on photographic paper but its effect waspowerful and, in the hope that it would strengthen the energy field around her, Iplaced it with Margaret’s photograph to channel healing energy to her.
The signs continued. On our way to Kom Ombo – a dual temple, the only one
dedicated to two gods – there was a magnificent ‘double dip’ sunset. The sundisappeared behind a hill just as the photographers were setting up. We petitionedRa to show himself again and he reappeared and rose up in the West as the hillchanged shape. Resurrection! We perhaps have to digress a little here to explainthat Ra, the sun god, was believed to fight his enemies in the underworld at night,and then rise again triumphant, pushed by Kepera, to fertilise the land during theday so sunset and sunrise were pivotal moments in the ancient Egyptian religion. The
Duality was a feature of ancient Egypt, but they embraced it and kept it in balancerather than seeking to enhance one end of the energetic spectrum or the other.They recognised that there was value in the dark just as in the light. So it’ssomething of a surprise to find only one dual temple dedicated to two different
gods in Egypt – other temples have chapels for the various gods within them buthere both reign supreme holding the dualities in harmony.
Kom Ombo was a renowned healing temple in ancient times and its walls arestill covered in medical texts that can be absorbed by walking within them ratherthan using rational intelligence. Healing is activated by being here.
c. Tore Lomsdalen
The dual portals of Kom Ombo
We paid due respect to its twin deities Horus the Elder (Mars) the Hawk ofFarsightedness and New Birth (Mars and Sobek – the crocodile god of death andresurrection representing, it would seem, the planet Pluto (more usually associatedwith Osiris) or possibly Chiron, the astrological wounded healer who I would usuallyequate to Imhotep in the Egyptian pantheon. Imhotep was an ‘avator’, an incarnationof Nefertum son of Ptah and Sekhmet who was then elevated to the gods onceagain. Margaret’s photo was placed on the altars of Sobek and Horus to hold thedualities in balance as was the Egyptian way, and to mirror the processes of celldeath and regeneration that were taking place in her body. She was starting hersecond round of intensive chemo and accompanying cell regeneration therapy.
When we arrived at Kom Ombo I was reading Imagining the World intoExistence by Normandi Ellis who said:
‘The power of conscious creation lies in one’s ability to hold the tensionbetween opposing desires of thought. Life is not a straight line. It is a tidethat goes in and out. We walk because we have learned to balance theoppositions of right and left appendages. Change and motion are perhaps theonly true constant in the universe… Imagine that the space between your
every breath is that moment of Zep Tepi [the first time]. Every heartbeatcan be that new beginning’.
c. Tore Lomsdalen
Margaret and her scarab on the Sobek altar, Kom Ombo Temple
Regenesis. That seemed to fit rather neatly into Margaret’s earlier philosophicalblog musings and our email exchanges. So, the message was: ‘Hold the balance. Flow
with the tides and stay centered in your body and its processes.’ With beautifulsynchronicity, at the time Margaret was learning to listen to what her bodyrequired as her blog later revealed. She didn’t want to fight the cancer, whichwould be fighting herself. As she said:
‘I’ve decided to stop talking about the treatment being toxic as thinking thatway creates such a horrible reaction in my body as it goes in. We all know itis extremely toxic and that it burns skin on contact, but the alternative isn’t
exactly attractive either so I am concentrating on visualising the chemicalsas a force for good sloshing through my veins… thinking about soldiers andhelpful liquid sloshing through my veins, I realise that my attitude and thusmy needs are changing. My Mars in Aries has quietened down considerablythrough this experience and the soldiers don’t need to go storming through
my system like they did. This is actually very welcome, as I didn’t really feelit was right for me. Even in the beginning, I didn’t feel that I was ‘fighting’this cancer. I’ve never done that well with fighting things anyway, and maybeI felt instinctively that I would use all my energy on trying to win the battleand have none left at the end to enjoy life. The happiest and most inspiringpeople seem to talk about living with cancer and that makes more sense tome. Cancer is now a part of my life, and the spectre of it in the form ofregular tests will always be there; we would have a very uncomfortableexistence if it was a continually antagonistic relationship. Fighting alsodoesn’t marry well with the exceptionally beautiful healing I am receiving. In
the light of this I am working hard at being kind to myself and my body, as itwas the reverse of those conditions that made it sick. To this end I am nowseeing the drugs as a positive force gently washing through my system.’
Exactly what the dual temple of Kom Ombo used in its ancient healing practices onlythere the positive force was the gods and the remedies they prescribed. Margaretlater decided to call the chemo ‘happy juice’ and had much less of a reaction to it.
Encounter with Sobek
Then we went to the temple museum. When I first visited Kom Ombo many years
ago, the mummified crocodiles were piled in a haphazard heap in a side chapeldedicated to Hathor and pulled out to amuse the tourists. Now they are moreappropriately housed in a cool dark room. Sobek is much less disgruntled than hewas. He was even ready to chat.
Mummified crocodile eggs, note the golden egg in the far distance
It was only a small statue, not like the wonderful life-sized alabastercrocodile god that sits with his arm protectively placed around his pharaoh in Luxormuseum. When I touched that one a jolt of electricity shot through me and my haircrackled. And when I crossed his energy line elsewhere in the museum, my feettingled and pulsed. Electric healing! I’d been thankful I didn’t have Margaret’sphoto with me that day as it would have been too strong for her. Her scarab,representing her soul, however, drew great strength from it as did I.
But this little guy was different. He was beautifully carved in granite.Granite is a quartz-studded, highly resonant stone that magnifies and conveysgeomagnetic energies. It is strongly grounding and enduring, resistant to change somaking a perfect receptacle for the essence of the god (you can read more about itin Crystal Bible 3 and 101 Power Stones). Granite assists with the process ofapoptosis, the natural cell death that allows the biological cycle of renewal andregeneration to continue so it chimed with Margaret’s chemo and cell regenerationtherapy. Every inch of Sobek’s scaly skin was replicated perfectly but it was hisleft eye that caught and held mine like a tractor beam. Intelligent, benign,compassionate. Here was the God in incarnation, his essence still imbued in his
statue in the old way. In ancient Egypt stone, as with everything else, was seen asessentially animate and impregnated with the divine. We spoke for awhile. ‘I willprotect you and your friend’ he told me. Many years ago he was on the front coverof my first psychic protection book which has now been superseded by GoodVibrations published by Margaret. Now I understood why illustrator and esoteric-Egyptologist Judith Page had insisted on his illustration rather than Sekhmet’sgracing that first cover.
The tractor beam eye, Sobek still infused in his statue My new friend then directed me round to his right eye. More quiet.
Intuitive, gentle and healing. Wrapping me – and Margaret – in his light and hisunderstanding.
Eventually I moved, at Sobek’s insistence, to a granite stela in a case behindhim. Two crocodiles this time. Basking in the sun. Heads laid on rocks and tailshanging down behind. Sleepy. Chilling out. One eye on us (Terrie was with me) butunimpressed by these visitors from the 21st century. Hathor, depicted beneaththem, was more welcoming.
She and her priestesses gathered around Margaret, Terrie and myself inquiet communion offering their support and heart-felt wisdom. Margaret was insafe hands. So calm and restorative. A sisterhood. That’s the way it has alwaysbeen in my enduring friendship with Margaret, who has encouraged me to go deeperin my writing and, in turn, her wisdom has sustained me. We didn’t even have to paybaksheesh to take photos, a rare event indeed.
Outside we picked up beautiful, energetic Golden Healer Quartz and ahaematite-infused Quartz that looked exactly like one of the mummified crocodile
eggs we had just seen in the museum. What was waiting to hatch? What was half-born? Treasure indeed.
Nubian temple stones, c. Jeni Campbell, www.angeladditions.co.ukhttp://www.groovycart.co.uk/cart.php?c=2799&cat=Egyptian+Stones
We even managed to email photos to Margaret later that day and to hearback that the chemo and cell regeneration therapy was underway. When I returnedto my cabin the next evening, the gentle-souled Mohammed, who looked after it,had intuitively crafted a beautiful healing mandala for Margaret with these stones.A great heart-centred gift for her.
c. Terrie Birch
Mohammed’s Nubian Temple healing stones mandala
And indeed, on my return home crystal healer Jeni Powell and I worked with these
stones and others from Aswan in a surrogate grid which was later physicallytransferred to Margaret in Jeni’s healing room so that Margaret could do the workfor herself and one would then accompany her into her next intensive round oftreatment.
Back in 1991 Alan Richardson, metaphysician extraordinaire and a fellow ‘pupil’ ofmy mentor Christine Hartley wrote The Inner Guide to Egypt with intuitiveEgyptologist Billie Walker-John. I devoured it at one sitting. Literally working myway through the whole book during a one and a half hour train journey, during whichtime held no meaning. And I mean Working as I undertook each ritual, became thebook. By the end I was an ancient Egyptian once again, it awoke so much past life
knowledge, and the book has travelled to Egypt with me ever since. The shamanic journey starts with boarding the Henu boat, the great winged ship of Sokar (Osiris)‘the Lord of the Mysterious Realms’ which floats not upon water but air and ispowered by sunlight. So eager is it to fly that it has to be chained down when at astandstill. The authors pose the question: ‘a sarcophagus is carried on boardcontaining what?’ and answer: ‘Ourselves.’
T he winged Henu boat with its sarcophagus aboard and Sokar (Osiris) on top,
Abydos
So, Terrie and I sat on deck in the cool of the evening to journey on theHenu boat through a portal created by the dual temple entrance at Kom Ombo. Wegreeted first Sobek at the righthand portal, and listened to his wisdom and then journeyed to the stars with Horus. For me it was an adjustment of every cell in myphysical and etheric bodies so that the light that the higher vibration crystals Iwas working with were bringing into my being could be assimilated and grounded intoearth. I brought the dualities within myself into equilibrium and filled my heartwith love. I felt whole, complete in myself. But I was aware of an energetic ‘gap’
beside me (not within me). The lack of a complementary male energy. I have writtenin another book published by Margaret, The Soulmate Myth, of my heartfelt desirefor a twinflame – a soulmate without the karma and soul lessons. The kind ofmutually supportive, beneficial soul expanding relationship that Margaret had foundwith Stephen – the story of which also featured in that book.
In my journey the creator god Ptah – husband of Sekhmet – appeared on myrighthand side. A god I have worked with many times as he pummels and shapessouls on his potter’s wheel ready for incarnation. His mummy-wrapped form is likethe chrysalis stage of transformation, full of awesome potential. He standsbetween Sekhmet’s dual qualities of destruction and renewal. This was always the
Egyptian way. Ptah is one of the most ancient Egyptian gods who ‘is the capacity weall have for making and creating and inventing things… also the creation of wordsand ideas.’ (Richardson) He is an essential part of magic.
Pharaoh before Ptah who holds the shedshed wand, his wife Sekhmet and their sonNefertum with the uas wand, a symbol of personal responsibility and self-creation,
a lodestone that points to the strongest source of power and wisdom available tothe seeker.
In my visualisation, Ptah was golden magnificence with his close fittinghelmet, breastplate and mummy wrappings shot through with flame-red. His magicalshedshed staff too was gold. According to Alan Richardson this staff has elementsof rebirth and renewal. It contains the djed pillar that was the backbone of Osirisand symbolises his entrapment in a tree (read the myth in The Big P.S), the ankh orwomb of Isis, the basal fork representing the dualities of life on earth and asmaller ankh emerging from the top symbolising birth. Alan says ‘The shedshed,
when brooded upon, becomes a disturbingly potent symbol with facility for keepingthe meditator awake a nights. The answer to the question ‘How do you understandlife on earth’ can be answered by every individual’s interpretation of this staff.’
Ptah was stunning. Fully alive and able to move despite his mummified form.He more than adequately filled that energetic gap. When I left the temple throughthe Horus portal he accompanied me. After our Henu boat had landed and Terrieand I were sharing our experiences, I told her that the energetic gap was filledalthough it would be nice if he could manifest physically sometime soon. Be carefulwhat you wish for! Or rather, be careful how you phrase what you wish for. I forgotto add the words ‘animate and fully incarnated in the present timeframe in an
appropriate physical body’.The next evening I was in the jewellery shop on the boat negotiating for
presents for my daughter and grandchildren with the lovely Raphael (named for theArchangel of healing of course). Can you imagine the shock when I went to my cabinto fetch some cash, switched on the light and there was a magnificent red and goldancient Egyptian sitting in the chair by the window? He had piercing blue eyes thatfollowed me around the room. Spooky or what? Mohammed had crafted him from
pillows, towels, bottletops, a ghalebiah borrowed from the shop and slippers fromthe spa. But somehow he had been imbued with life. To my mind, Mohammed wasdefinitely an Egyptian priest in a former life and intuitively knew the old ways. SoPtah, or H’er Khat as my visitor told me his name was, had manifested. He wasreading The Osiris Labyrinth – my bedtime book. He was on the righthand side of
where I slept, filling that energetic gap. Once more I was sleeping beside an ancientEgyptian. So, when I went to bed, I redid Alan’s Osiris journey, sinking into theearth to become one with it and have the last remnants of the past stripped awayto be reborn and the new energies to be integrated. It was a long and interestingnight! Which will be drawn upon for my next novel, of course. I forgot to mentionthat I had intended to work on that during this trip. Next morning I gazed into H’erKhat’s mesmeric blue eyes and asked that he manifest fully animate and incarnatedin a modern day physical body of the right age and preferably with blue eyes toindicate my twinflame. H’er Khat was whisked away by Mohammed during breakfastbut I will report in due course.
c. Tore Lomsdalen
How do you fancy coming back to your cabin to be greeted by this?
A short P.S. here. The gods’ sense of humour has continued to manifest.When I returned home I realised that a nobbly lump of pink Aswan Granite I hadbrought back had, when turned the right way up, the eyes and nose of an ancientEgyptian but was lacking the lower jaw having only a tiny mouth. So I now have aH’er Khat crystal skull and intend to perform an opening of the mouth ceremony sothat he can communicate at an appropriate time. But when a highly intuitive crystalworker, Jeni Powell, held the skull she found two more faces. So I have a triplefaced skull awaiting its moment of resurrection. Which face will speak? Or will all?Each has something different to say no doubt.
Aswan the beautiful
And then there was Aswan. My heart always lifts as we approach this magical,
peaceful place especially by river. One of my most favourite spots, so soothing andcalm.
Aswan from the nileometer on Elephantine Island. This was where the annual life-giving Nile flood was measured. Note the water-worn rocks on the other side.Water would have rushed through this channel and engulfed them on an annual basisas the flood could rise 15 meters or more
Rescued from the waters of the old Aswan Dam, the temple of Philae holds aparticular place in my affections because, when I first visited, Christine Hartley,
who had recently passed to the other side, came to walk with me in the eveningtwilight to remind me of the time we had been priestesses together at this temple just before Christianity took hold. It was one of the last strongholds of Egyptianbelief, the refuge of Isis (the Moon) and her husband Osiris (Pluto). Despite havingbeen moved after its submersion, Philae temple is a place of power for me that stillholds the imprint of the gods.
The journey to Philae is magical. It has to take place by boat as the templenow sits in the middle of a serene lake. This time the smiling Nubian vendor whocame aboard was most welcome, he carried locally made hematite jewellery that washighly protective. I was at the far end of the boat and watched his approach with a
rising sense of excitement. By the time he reached us, Terrie and I bought most ofhis remaining stock and I collected more on our return, which is now onwww.angeladditons.co.uk
Happy days: jewellery shopping with Terrie on the way to Philae.See http://www.groovycart.co.uk/cart.php?c=2799&cat=Egyptian+Jewllery
Entering Philae sanctuary between the lions of yesterday and tomorrow
In the Sanctuary of Isis the photo of Margaret was first placed on the altarin the Holy of Holies. Isis and Osiris’ mythological journey of death (see the mythin The Big P.S), replicated in this temple, with its dismemberment and resurrectiontheme seemed fitting and reassuring. Regenesis was on the way.
The photo was then taken to the Temple of Imhotep. Imhotep was arenowned healer, a mortal man who was elevated to the status of a god like Chironin the Greek myths. I wanted to petition him for healing for Margaret in the oldway. His temple has Hathor (Venus) columns all around it and you can see in thephoto below what happened when I held Margaret’s photo above a block with the
face of Hathor on it. That shaft of light is not sunlight. It is light coming directlyfrom the third eye of the Hathor face on the column above, down through my crownchakra, out through my third eye, through Stephen and into Margaret’s throat.Terrie by this time was taking incredible, mystical ‘orbs’, colour sheets andconvoluted light-beam photos but this was the most impressive so far. (For adiscussion on Orbs see The Big P.S) When I’d told Liz Dean, editor of my Hamlyncrystal books and Kindred Spirit magazine, that I was going to Egypt and could feelan article coming on, her reply was ‘Don’t forget Kindred Spirit especially if youhave amazing photos.’ Here’s the answer!
c. Terrie Birch
Imhotep Temple, Philae. The shaft of light is emanating from Hathor’s thirdeye on the column above me
We had been told that we had healing to do for all of Egypt, which was avery troubled place at that time and continues to be so, so the task is on-going. TheArab Spring revolution had not brought the changes that were hoped for and thepeople were suffering, especially in Upper Egypt which relies so much on tourism.The plight of women was perilous. So, at the High Dam we stood over the river and,
with my big Smoky Brandenberg Earth Healer and a clear, rainbow-filled Magnifier/Record Keeper Quartz to which Terrie had attuned we sent healing up and down theNile to bring a speedy and peaceful resolution to the conflict.
The Nubian people are beautiful, shining souls. They hold the last remnants of
ancient Egyptian magic. The lovely Mohammed is a Nubian, trained in the Aswanhotel school to create his incredible sculptures and, whether he knows it or not,following the ancient tradition of imbuing life into seemingly inanimate objects. Ourshamanic boatman in Aswan (see below) was a Nubian, instinctively following the oldways. Such a friendly and hospitable people, Nubian history is nevertheless a direand tragic one. The original inhabitants of the land of Egypt, inscribed on tombs andtemples, they flourished as a civilisation for over three thousand years and were
then overwhelmed by waves of invaders. The Coptic Christianity that followed theRomans, then the Arabs with their alien culture into which to some extent theywere assimilated. But they were powerless before the next invader: water. Over130,000 thousand people were displaced by the Aswan High Dam, their ancientvillages and burial places flooded and temples were engulfed although some still lie
empty and forlorn on what was once fertile land but is now desolate sand. I hadmade that journey a few years earlier and was aware of what had been lost.
The Flooded Land, Abu Simbel under threat as the waters rise.
When Terrie Birch and I walked into the Nubian museum at Aswan the wholeweight of the people’s displacement overwhelmed us. It began with two mummycases and their priestly occupants who had glaring spotlights over their eyes. Theywould have empathized with Margaret’s blog protests about being woken up byglaring hospital lights at 5.30a.m. But it quickly became apparent that the museum,which photographically recorded what had been before, had become a focus for allthose numberless lost souls whose ancient land had been submerged or ravaged. Inancient Egyptian thought, the soul was divided into several parts and the ka, a kindof etheric double with concentrated creative energy, and the khebit, the shadow,remained with the body at the tomb although the ka could travel elsewhere, while
the soul bird, the ba, and the spiritual essence, the akhar ,travelled to the spiritualrealms. Some of this understanding appears to have remained with the Nubianseven after they took on other religions. But without the tombs, the ka’s and thekhebits had clearly lost their anchors to the earth and lacking their connection withthe ba and the akhar didn’t know how to move on.
Outwardly we were just two tourists paying particular attention to theexhibits. But inwardly we were psychopomp priestesses, conducting souls to theOther World. We spoke to the souls of the mummies, trapped under the glare ofthe spotlights. We thanked them for the wisdom they had brought us and helpedthem to move into Light opening a portal for them to leave by, calling on the ancient
gods to assist. Walking around the corner we found the perfect physicalembodiment of the portal in stone – a large Kepera scarab in an open sided, roofedbox.
c. Tore Lomsdalen
The soul retrieval portal, Nubian Museum, Aswan
The priestesses waited on the far side of the portal to call the soulsthrough. Then we found an ancient Egyptian psychopomp to lead the way. She wasan exquisitely carved, ‘small head of an unknown woman’ according to the museumlabel. Imbued with spirit, Mer’aber, beloved of Khnum, was clearly a wise-woman,priestess of her tribe. The most clear and beautiful soul waiting quietly to assisther people, just needing intention to set off the soul retrievals and clearings. It is agood thing that time has no meaning on the Other Side. We were able to leave thedisplaced souls streaming through the portal, safe in her hands.
‘Coincidentally’ (there is no such thing, synchronicity was at work again!)while we were at the High Dam sending healing down the Nile and prior to going tothe museum, Terrie’s husband had texted her John Romer’s description of thewomen of ancient Nubia:
‘If you look South from Aswan and let your mind fly over the backwaters ofthe Nile you will come to the ancient land of the Nubians famed in ancienttimes (and still I believe) for its beautiful and graceful young women whoselected their mate from the young men of the village by performing ritualdances as a group – naked – and at the end of several hours of dancing andrituals in a grand finale chose their man – who was sitting by now probably
exhausted through erotic anticipation – by standing in front of him andresting one thigh on his shoulder. The ancient Pharaohs and aristocracythought very highly of Nubian women as you can see in many of theirartefacts and paintings of slim, naked black women dancing in a group. TheNubile Nubians.
All very reminiscent of a last-night-of-the-cruise party on the Nile – exceptfor the wearing of ghalebiahs (the long robes that Egyptian men still wear today,elaborate versions of which tourists are encouraged to take home, I use them forrituals). Our psychopomp was a very nubile Nubian indeed but full of dignity and sheso reminded me of Margaret’s soul-full-ness. I trust that those lost Nubian soulshave now reached an Afterlife full of joy, pleasure and dancing after theirdisplacement. In helping them find peace, it brought back some lost and displacedparts of my own soul. Just as one person making a shift helps the many, so too dothe many assist the one. As above, so below. As without, so within. The maxim of
the great Egyptian magician Hermes Trismegistus.Meanwhile, back at the Nubian museum, a displacement of another kind was
being healed. The stones of Nabta Plya, the oldest stone circle in the world, and itscalendrical avenue, have been uprooted from their desert home of the last seventhousand years and relocated in the grounds of the museum without, it would seem,due regard for their previous orientation. While Terrie and I tended the lost souls,astrologers Tore – also a skilled archaeoastronomer - and Patricia bedded thestones into their new home, checking the alignments and imbuing the stones withenergy once more.
Never was afternoon tea on the Old Cataract Hotel terrace more richlydeserved.
Respite care
The next morning, while the rest of the group joined the arduous 3 hour each-wayconvoy to Abu Simbel, Terri and I decided that we, and Margaret, were templed outso we went for another very civilised chill at the Old Cataract Hotel, relaxing onthe Agatha Christie terrace which has the most amazing view. I drank an excellentcoffee and Terrie a glorious pinky-orange cocktail for Margaret (well, as she said,someone had to do it even though it was 10.30am.)
c. Terrie Birch
Cocktail Madam?As Terrie’s camera showed, blue healing orbs were all around us. But it
wasn’t just in those photos. The shot that accompanied us from the beginning wasmetamorphosing too. In the photo Margaret became more and more ethereal withthe soft golden light all around her head and intense blue around her throat chakra– exactly where the shaft of light in the Philae temple had touched. While Stephen
became even more of the earthy Virgoan that he is, providing an anchor while herspirit soared and regenesis occurred. Magic indeed.
In the afternoon, as she’s a Cancerian and loves cruises, we took Margaretfor a sail around the tranquil and stunning islands of Aswan to recharge as, by thistime, she was well into her second round of chemo and we could feel that it wasproving challenging for her. The regeneration had not yet begun. But even there
magic followed. Our boat had a black feathered heron skin complete with beak andwings pinned up, and a scarab placed overhead. We were under the shadow of theshaman. Our smiling Nubian boatman assured us that the bird had died naturally,and had offered itself up to keep the boat and its occupants safe. The ancientNubian religion – as with the ancient Egyptians - was full of such shamanic practisesand it still holds good today.
The ReturnReluctantly, it was time to leave Aswan and the boat headed north again. As it wasstopping at Kom Ombo for a new group to explore the temple, we decided to goashore too and give thanks to the gods for the work so far. But oh how different itwas this time. Masses more vendors trying to inveigle us into buying their tut – I’ve
always called them ‘shoo-flies’ because they have the same tenacity and aggravationqualities. Now, with so few tourists, they were desperate. They were analogous towhat Margaret was writing about in her blog, the impossibility of rest in hospitalbecause of constant interruptions by the staff, and, of course, the cancer cellsthat needed shooing out of her body – she was still undergoing her intensive chemoat that point. However, the Order of the Fly was the highest decoration for valourin ancient Egypt and I am trying to adjust my view. I have to say, some of mygreatest Egyptian treasures, such as my first Sekhmet statue, have come from lessinsistent vendors in the past.
Having finally made it safely into the temple, the guards were extremely
aggressive when we tried to light a joss stick. Baksheesh didn’t work so we tookrefuge in the museum again where I introduced Patricia to ‘my’ Sobek statue andshe learned to communicate with crocodiles. Just before entering the museum, ourattention was directed to the enormous well that used to serve the crocodileenclosure. Stagnant and in need of healing itself, we cleansed and purified it withthe Petaltone Zl4 and Clear2Light essences without which I would never travel andmade a crystal offering. We were behind schedule so it was late afternoon before we got to Edfu,the Horus (Mars) temple which was to be the culmination of our river trip. I hadhigh hopes for this temple as I’d found it invigorating when I visited before and
Horus is a symbol of flying free. It also has some interesting astrological texts.But, as an astrologer, I should have looked at the transits first. Once again I wasamusing the gods. Our caleche driver was surly and took us through the backstreets to the far side of the temple so we had to fight our way to the entrance,smiling grimly and saying ‘la shokran’ (no thank you, one of the few phrases Iremember in Arabic) to the insistent shoo-flies.
Inside it was getting dark and the energy was changing. Some temples arewonderful places at night. This was not. It was as though the god was shooing us out
of his sanctuary. We were not welcome there after the sun had left. The templewas mirroring Margaret’s body where the chemo was viscously destroying her cells.
c. Terrie BirchAbove, Temple of Edfu just after sunset, c. Tore Lomsdalen. Note the light
to the left in the photo below, which had evolved from a squiggly line see below
The squiggle approaching and changing form, see below. It is darker because of theexposure used. Is this really dust refraction? (see Big P.S) c. Terrie Birch.
The reconstructed Solar Barque in the Edfu sanctuary
We ran the gauntlet to get back to our caleche and I have never been sothankful to arrive back on a boat. I usually feel so safe in Egypt no matter what isgoing on there but this was different, an out of this world kind of angst.
Terrie had the same feelings too so when we went through Esna lock westood on deck facing in different directions and released all the anger andaggression, backwards and forwards throughout time, putting peace and harmony intheir place. As it was the ‘last night’ party we were both in lotus-embroidered deepblue ghalebiahs and so looked – and felt - like two ancient priestesses.
When I finally looked at what was going on astrologically, Mars, a symbol ofanger, aggression or assertion in the chart, was conjoined in the same area in theheavens with Chiron, the wounded healer planet. Chiron is about integration but is
also about lancing the boil to let out any poison before healing takes place. Uranus,the catalytic planet of transformation was sextiling them and Pluto, the planet ofregeneration and rebirth challenging the whole combination. As one of my clientsput it, ‘sextiles are the quickest road to hell because it seems easy until you getthere and then whoosh… you’re in it.’ Again, there was such synchronicity with what
was going on with Margaret and the astrology of her birthchart slotted inperfectly. She had been discharged from hospital the previous day. Her blog says:
The rigours of hospital, its lack of peace, extreme bias on western conceptsof care (obviously) and awful food take a huge amount out of me, and one isdischarged to go home feeling very depleted indeed. It is pure irony that thedoctor always asks, ‘Do you feel well enough to go home?’ I was so close tosaying, ‘No, I feel so bad I have to go home,’ but didn’t. [Perhaps she shouldhave, her cancer is after all in her throat and all those unspoken words addto its hold, but this would be addressed later in her treatment when she
finally told the nurse in charge how bad things were and the style of carechanged]They have no idea…[At home] I was able to let go of the discomfort of my body and soarupwards towards the safe place where I could tune into it and hold it gentlyas it wept. And weep it did. The chemotherapy is one thing, and I am slowlycoming to terms with the necessity of its toxicity, but the other drugs youare given to counteract the side effects are quite another thing as they areunbelievably damaging in their own right. My body was screaming‘Noooooooooooooooooooooo!’ to all the other stuff as I meditated. As I cameout of the meditation I knew what I had to do…
Remember what I said about Chiron-Mars needing to lance the boil and remove thepoison? Margaret discovered that many of the more distressing symptoms she wasexperiencing were due to the side effects of the additional drugs and her body justcould not cope. So she did some EFT:
‘Oh my word. The flood gates opened. One of our cats, Rowan, was sittingnext to me and she made a cat equivalent kind ‘Ah no, poor you’ type of noiseand climbed up to lick away my tears. Really. The only reason I have gone intothis much detail [see the blog] is to show people who haven’t found time for
it, or don’t think they need it, HOW IMPORTANT IT IS TO LISTEN TOYOUR BODY.’
So while we were running the gauntlet – another martian activity – Margaret wasundergoing a massive release and coming to a resolution that ultimately brought herto an understanding of the difference between letting go and opening up:
‘Letting go is a release, whereas opening up is an invitation to visit. And arewe brave enough to see who will come visiting?’
One of the Egyptian gods perhaps? (But see Be careful what you wish for, ask for itto be the most appropriate and helpful one for you!)
c. Tore Lomsdalen.
Safe in the wings of Hathor
Journey to the Other Side
Monday was to be pretty much taken up with shifting from the boat to the hotel so
Terrie and I paid a quick visit to the Mummification Museum in Luxor. A nice bitesized museum this one, the process is carefully documented and they have a fewwell chosen artefacts including a beautiful statue of Sobek. ‘Don’t forget what Itold you,’ he admonished me. ‘Close and protect yourself but open your heart. Don’ttry to figure it out, go with it.’ So go I did.
‘You want go Other Side?’ is a common enough invitation in Luxor. You hear itevery time you walk down the Corniche. Yes, I did indeed want to go other side. Iusually go after I’ve visited Karnak but this time the schedule was dictated and wasto be after we arrived at the hotel for our final few days. Fortunately the whole
group had opted for the excursion to Medinet Habu, my favourite mortuary templethe entrance to which is guarded by two statues of My Lady, Sekhmet. This time Ihad to laugh because one was carefully wrapped in plastic to protect it whilerenovation work was being carried out around her. The other smiled a welcome andgave me a much needed power-recharge. My stamina was beginning to flag by thisstage. Too many early mornings!
Battered and bruised but still imbued with power, the other Sekhmetstatute at Medinet Habu
I’d left Margaret’s photo in the coach as I didn’t feel she needed to be in a
mortuary temple although of course it was the place where the Pharaoh’s body wasprepared for resurrection and life eternal. But I had her scarab with me in my bagas her soul needed to re-cognise this process of dying in order to live again so, inaddition to presenting it to Sekhmet, I took it into the holy of holies where thespiritual resurrection process began.
The sanctuary is the centre of living energy… Invisible forces emanate fromthe solar resurrection body. They spiritualize the world and enlarge people’shearts. Christian Jacq ‘The Tutankhamun Affair’.
I picked Margaret’s photo up for the journey to Hapshepshut’s temple atDair El Bahari, which is situated at a very ancient healing site known as the home ofHathor even before the temple was built. I got extremely cross with our tour guidewhen he showed the group a distant view of the temple, explained a bit about it andsaid ‘you’ve got 20 minutes, you could have a coffee instead of going up there.’ It’san amazing temple. ‘I’m going to the top,’ I snapped and stomped off. I was annoyedbecause he was impatient to take us to another retail opportunity (as if we hadn’t
had enough of those already!) but, on reading Margaret’s blog later that day Irealised I was also releasing some frustration for us both.
OK – we are at Saturday morning and the tedium has hit. I came in Thursdayand we got cracking on the first round, which was about 3 hours, then for
yesterday and today I’m having 2 cycles a day of about 3 1/2 hours each.There is quite a lot of fussing around making everything sterile and checkingthe dosage so although the actual chemo dose is 3 hours the whole thingtakes longer than that. Which isn’t so bad if it is all happening in thedaytime, but we didn’t get started until nearly 10.00 last night so it didn’tfinish until after 1.00 this morning. Thankfully Stephen had bought me theboxed set of Sex and the City, so Carrie and the Girls saw me safely throughuntil the bitter end. I managed to get settled down and asleep by about 1.30and was having the most amazing dream. I think wonderful dreams are sentsometimes just to give us a break from the less pleasant things we have to
go through – a sort of mental holiday. I was sublimely foxtrotting round aballroom (and yes, I can foxtrot, and it is my favourite dance) with lovelyswing music playing and sort of misty edges to the ballroom so it just fadedaway. I was probably wearing one of those amazing floaty dresses fromStrictly Come Dancing, but I can’t remember now because next it was ‘GOODMORNING! HOW ARE YOU TODAY? CAN I JUST TAKE YOUR BLOODPRESSURE?’ and my lovely dream was torn asunder. Lights full on, I wasdragged kicking and screaming into the reality of Saturday and another dayof treatment.’
However sometime later when speaking to a consultant and explaining how bad theside effects of the drugs she was being given to counteract the side effects of thechemo were and what was going on with her heart for the third time that day:
In my fragile state I had to go all through it again, only this time I wasgetting angry. I asked him how he could possibly expect me to have any kindof a life when apart from dealing with the effects of chemo, I also have tonow contend with being totally incapacitated and needing 24 hour care for 2days every week or so, because I am keeling over from the drugs that theyinsisted I take. Which weren’t working anyway. Lyn moved in with a final
thrust and he wrote the prescription [for a much reduced dose].Next stop ECG, where I was trussed up like a turkey with the heart monitor.The sensors had to be interwoven with my tunnel lines, then all the cablinghidden under my t-shirt, with the magic black box clipped to my waistband.Walking Frankensteina doesn’t begin to describe it. We thought we wouldtake a jolly down Christchurch High Street just for a laugh to see if I coulddo so without tripping over my own cabling. I did, and Lyn bought me a lovelylunch.
I am sure you can imagine that all of this is very damaging and intrusive, evenfor someone who is well, but it isn’t an experience that can be avoided orstopped, once it has started. You just have to deal with it. My big challengeseems to be in learning to deal with these events from a place of calm, ormindfulness, so that worries about the future and what may/may not happen,
and whether or not I have control over it cease to affect the presentmoment. With this in mind, and in great need of inner calm (heart still jumping about) I went joyfully the next day to see my friend Crispen forsome sound therapy. If you haven’t done this, try it. It is truly an experiencesent straight from heaven. The first time I had a treatment I was reducedto tears by the sheer beauty of the sound. This isn’t like a gong, or chanting,or anything you can possibly imagine. It is the music of the spheresincarnate. If in some greater realms there are lofty celestial halls throngedwith wise, loving souls, then this is their backing music; no ersatz, horriblelift music for them, oh no. This glorious sound truly sings the soul back home.
You lay on the floor within a pattern of crystal and glass bowls, positioned soas to align with the chakras; other acoustic wooden and metal instrumentsare also used to enhance the process when appropriate. Struck firstly one byone (with a wooden stick covered in suede), the bowls are then eventuallyused in combination to produce stunning harmonies which last for aneternity. The sound goes straight through you, into your very bones. Thistime I also saw colours. Careful readers from previous blogs will note that Iam on a journey of introspection and I was interested to see what thishealing session would produce. When Crispen got to my throat chakra I wasexpecting a very strong reaction as it is not only the site of the cancer but
also the place where I feel most blocked. (Obviously). This means thatanything emotional tries to come pouring out, which frankly can be a veryunpleasant feeling as I want to both release and block at the same time. It isalways a battle and I don’t enjoy it at all. I have done a huge amount ofreleasing, and the fact that there still seems to be a bottomless pit ofemotion indicates to me that whatever I’m doing isn’t working. This time wasdifferent though, and it only elicited a few tears, in a very gentle, ‘Oh yes’,kind of fashion. The very clear message I was getting was to open up. I hadalready started to feel this in previous sessions of EFT and meditation so itwas good to have it confirmed in such a beautiful and gentle way.
Introspection is all well and good but you still have to have a sense ofdirection: I am enjoying the experience of quietly watching to see whatcomes up, and to see where following that whisper leads me. So I was lyingbathed in sound, wondering why I was finding it hard to open up. I sawmyself, almost from above, as being closed and scared. Closed down, althoughI had done so much work in the past on letting go. Why? How much more canI do? But letting go is different from opening up, isn’t it? Letting go is a
release, whereas opening up is an invitation to visit. And are we brave enoughto see who will come visiting? Enter the fear.Once we start talking about fear and get over the obvious ones, fear ofdying, fear of losing your job, partner, health, etc., you start to look at howfear actually affects your daily life, and how it might have been a pattern
since early childhood – possibly rooted in some almost imperceptible slight orincident many years ago. My mum told me how I would have nightmares as atiny tot. This grew into a fear of blowing newspapers (there seemed to be alot where I lived, near the marshes in Essex), men (?!), and loud noises. Whaton earth was going on in my impressionable and unformed mind that couldpossibly have upset me so much, so young? I wondered how I would be ableto find out, then I realised that it doesn’t actually matter. I realised that Itry to understand the world using logic a lot of the time. Although I am aCancer Sun and empathise in a watery fashion all over the place, my way ofunderstanding any crisis is where my very left-brain, logical Virgo Moon runs
amok. I think I do this too much. It occurred to me that what I am dealingwith is something that doesn’t necessarily have an answer. I don’t necessarilyneed to know that a particular event, either in this life or a previous one, hascreated the reaction of fear in me, and it is that I need to spend time with.I have spent huge amounts of time going back to forgive, integrate,acknowledge events and people that have hurt me in the past, and in pastlives. You name it, I’ve done it, and for me, that strategy (good Virgo word)isn’t working. I am watching a beautiful presentation by Thich Nhat Hanh onmindfulness and fear. It is the worry about the future (which is pointless)and sadness or regret for the past (which we can’t change) that intrudes on
our present and I know I am guilty of both.Both Stephen and I are finding that our world is changing tiny bit by tinybit, on a daily basis. We have always talked about these kind of things butour conversations now have a passion and vigour they didn’t before. This isn’t just armchair philosophising or intellectual discussion. This is a real lifesituation that needs more that just band aid and placations, and it offers, asnothing has before, a massive opportunity to explore our inner landscapesand wonder at the complexity and potential contained within. As JosephCampbell says, ‘We must be willing to get rid of the life we’ve planned so asto have the life that is waiting for us.’ Amen to that. (Out of Darkness)
Light was beginning to dawn and has continued to do so ever since.
But once again the gods were laughing. When I puffed my way to the upperlevel of the temple with Tore, I found that the innermost/uppermost sanctuarywhich had been a renowned healing cave before the temple was built was closed offas there’d been a rockfall. Perhaps I should tell you that this tiny sanctuary hadbeen the one place in all Egypt that I’d tried for 20 years to baksheesh my way into
and failed. And yet on my previous visit in 2004, it had been open and I’d had apowerful healing experience there. But not this time.
Note the shamanic faces in the rocks above especially to the left andcentre. These are all along these cliffs. This place was sacred long before thetemple was built. Photo
c. Terrie Birch
In front of the innermost sanctuary, Deir El Bahari
So, we placed Margaret as close as we could get and set off at a run to theHathor part of the temple for another Venus experience. Bliss!
We’ll pass quickly over the tombs in the Valley of the Kings. I wanted toshow the others the astrological ceilings and star clocks and fortunately most of
the relevant tombs were open but they were nothing to do with the transformatoryinner journey Margaret and I were on – at least I don’t think so but I am still tryingto keep my head out of it.
A monument to eternity
We were now at our last day and one of the main reasons for four astrologersmaking the trip had been to see the Dendara zodiac – well, the replica anyway, theoriginal having been removed to the Louvre. And of course the amazing Nuit, thesky goddess, ceilings which are thankfully still intact. While you’re travelling toDendara you might as well go the extra miles and visit Abydos, home of Osiris andthe opposite end of an energy chain to Philae – more linking of the dualities. Abydosis also a cosmic temple. Terrie had decided to have a chill-out day, so Tore, Patriciaand I tore along the new desert road in the care of our young driver Bono who wasmuch amused that my first visit to Egypt had been made before he was born. He’dnever been into the temples, despite taking tourists there regularly, so he becamethe fourth member of our party.
Nuit stretched out her arms above the registers recording the mummificationprocess and the resurrection of Osiris .
What struck me most about the new road was the number of cemeteriesalready lining the route. It’s some distance from the fertile part, although water isbeing trucked in to bring life and create some astonishingly green patches amongst
the barrenness. So, new life alternated with death. Very Osiris-like as he is oftenrepresented by new shoots emerging from a mummy. I wrapped Margaret in aprotective bubble and called on Hathor to bring her safely through.
Both temples were blissfully empty, of tourists and shoo-flies although I wasable to buy a couple of ‘golden’ Ankhs, the symbol of life, from a sweetly-smilingchild.
The Osirion at Abydos has always fascinated me. Way below the maintemple, it is often deeply flooded. Last time I was there the water was a bright,
fluorescent green that extended several feet up the pillars. This time though onlythe 9 metre deep channels on either side were full and fishes were visible, it waspossible to walk down to where the reeds were being pulled out to open up theclogged passageways yet again, a cyclical task. A glimpse of the rebirth to come?
The Osirion being cleared of its reeds. The pools are 9 metres deep andfilled by the Nile. The wall of Seti I’s temple is above to the right.
Let’s backtrack for a moment. Do you recall the Henu boat? There are manyon the passage wall leading out to the Osirion. The Boatman for that journey is
Kha’m-uast, ancient high priest and crown prince of Egypt. ‘Keeper of the Secretsof Heaven and Earth and the Duat, who knows the Necropolis and the Temple, whowas a persistent Traveller himself on all planes of existence, who eternally renewshimself through cycle after cycle’ (Inner Guide). He is a powerful link to my mentorChristine Hartley and a chain of transmission that stretches back through the ages.Abydos is as far as he takes travellers coming up the Nile from the Delta, the journey to Thebes is left for intrepid travellers to do alone. Luxor to Philae, the journey we had been making, is for the initiated. In the Inner Guide Alan and BillieWalker-John remind us that Kha’m-uast served Ptah (remember him?), one of theoldest gods and sometimes known as ‘the Opener’, and indeed Kha’m-uast had come
to talk to me when Mohammed created Ptah in my cabin and I performed an openingof the mouth ceremony to bring life to my vision.
The Hennu boat with Sokar (Osiris on top), copyright as shown.
The underlying mythology of Abydos is that when the god Osiris waschopped into pieces by his brother Set, the pieces were scattered at places wheretemples were later built along the Nile (see the story of Isis and Osiris in The BigP.S). But Abydos, traditionally was where Isis later buried him and his tomb was thefocus for a great yearly festival to honour the god (see The Inner Guide to Egyptfor an evocative description). His story is told on the walls of the roof chapels andhis death and resurrection were re-enacted as sacred drama. As Alan says ‘if[visitors] could by pilgrimage and devout acts, and a bit of shopping in between, link
with his spirit in some small way, then they too could live for ever, just as he does…Osiris offered hope to everyone.’ Sounds rather like our Nile trip to me!
In my experience, Abydos is one of the temples where you can gather thescattered parts of yourself together and become whole. In Alan and Billie John’sesoteric endocrinology it represents the pancreas (see the Big P.S). As they say
‘even today there is a discernible, numinous quality about what is otherwise a barrenplace and the feel that a person might step bodily through in certain circumstancesif only they dare.’ Oh yes!
In The Big P.S I’ve put some musings about what the neters (gods) mean andthis is a prime example because Osiris resonates so strongly with processes thatare going on within Margaret. As The Inner Guide puts it so well:
In Abydos, amongst many other things, the circle of consciousness and thelife-force of the individual with all its cycles of growth and decay andsomething-in-between, was Osiris. But beyond all else where there was
Osiris, there was love; and where there was love Osiris could be found also.
c. Tore Lomsdalen
Osiris on his bier .
The High Priest Kha’m-uast was the fourth son of Rameses II was one of
Egypt’s great magicians. He was particularly fond of Abydos and sited his‘Monument for Eternity’ there. His statue is now in the British Museum but thefalse door remains. In another sphinx-like statue made, as Alan points out, fromflawed material, he proclaims that, although of legendary status, he was humanunderneath. Whenever I’m at Abydos I read the words from his tomb, the falsedoor and his stelae so that he will not be forgotten – and to pay my fee to theferryman for the journeys I have made and the wisdom I have received. This is
just a selection so that you can invoke him too if you need a guide to the innerplanes:
Journeying in the morning barque across the heavens, the Sem-Priestand King’s Son, Kha’m-uast goes without descending or passing away.
What heaven gives, the earth brings forth and Nun brings forth fromthe heights for the Chief Artificer, Sem-Priest and King’s Son, Kham-uast, justified.
May the Sem-Priest and King’s Son, Kha’m-uast live like the stars livein the sky. May he see Hathor.
May the Sem-Priest and Kings Son, Kha’m-uast live like the stars livein the sky…
O Atum, may you give breath to the King’s Son and Sem Priest Kha-m-uast, this sweet breath which is in your nostrils. The King’s Son Kha’m-uast, justified, takes his seat upon this great throne…
A Monument to Eternity, Kha’m-uast’s statue in the British Museum.
On this occasion rather than finding the false door in the maze of the maintemple, I chose to sit above the Osirion to recite his words, making an offering ofincense, and to do a throat-chakra clearing meditation that Terrie (who joined us
for the occasion by mobile phone) had given me in which we opened the lotus at thethroat chakra and then slid down into cool clear water to release as bubbles all thewords locked into ourselves, Margaret and the people of Egypt so that we couldspeak our truth – an appropriate setting as the guys were pulling out the reedsbelow us opening the way to the tunnel to eternity. Not so appealing given the
somewhat scummy nature of the water itself. But bubbles always rise up from itsdepths as it is fed from the sacred, life-giving Nile. Deep down it was clear andpure and fed the soul.
But there is more to Abydos than the Osirion. The temple of Seti I hasamazing roof chapels rather like Dendera where you can sit under the protection ofthe sky goddess Nuit and follow the journey of Ra on the Hennu boat through boththe upper and lower worlds, and bask in a beautiful Hathor chapel with cosmicceiling.
Dendara: Venus (Hathor) –Moon (Isis) conjunction alongside the head, hands and
arms of Nuit (to the left) who is swallowing the sun at sunset. Nuit’s feet are in thebottom right corner of the ceiling.
This picture must depict a specific moment in time when the setting sun on thehorizon was accompanied by moonrise, with Venus, as the evening star, also visible.
But there is also deep symbolism in the ‘cow’s horns’ rays which plot theVenus cycle as visible from Earth: see http://Egypt\Goddess Hathor Cow HornsCrown Astronomy Relation.mht
On the way to the roof. Note the orbs in the foreground on the Bundle ofLife staff that carries the placenta of the Pharaoh. This represents the kha,national soul of the nation and Pharaah’s link to the divine. His ba soul-bird is to theleft of the staff
The cosmic danceAnd off we went to Dendera, a place of deep delight for astrologers and ancientEgyptians alike. This is a Hathor (Venus) temple and as the texts on the walls say:
Pharaoh comes to dance
He comes to sing.You, his Lady, see how he dances.
Wife of Horus.See how he springs
.
c. Tore Lomsdalen
Blissfully peaceful, the temple of Denedera drowses in the afternoon sun. Below theastrological roof chambers .
This tatty plaster cast is all that remains of the earliest round zodiac in its formerhome
At New Year the statue of Hathor was carried to the roof of the temple so thatthe revitalising rays of the sun could energise her and a great fertility festival ofsinging, dancing and sexual union took place. She was the consort of Horus (Mars) atEdfu and there was much to-ing and fro-ing between the two temples. In its otherrole, Dendera was another of the great temples of healing where all manner ofpsychological and magical therapies took place. Miracles were commonplace andwater was collected from the roof and the sacred lake to be given to the sick.
There was definitely a rebirth theme going on as Margaret’s cells were at the timebeing transmuted by the chemo and cell rejuvenation therapy and her pomegranate juice regime.
Bono having an astro-astronomy lesson, young Egyptians are not taught their ownmythology.
It is in the depictions of Nuit (the sky) and Geb (the earth) that the magicreally begins for me in both Abydos and Dendera (they are extremely difficult tophotograph as they are on the ceilings of cramped chambers, so all credit to Torefor the photos reproduced here). When the sun is in Nuit’s belly it is the darknight of the soul) and she is just about to give birth. The start of a new day.
Nuit and Geb were twins who ‘cleaved to each other’. Their father Shu (air)prised them apart and forced them to live separately. Forever after Geb yearnedtowards his sister-wife although Thoth (Mercury) stole the ‘dog days’ that laybetween the sun and moon calendars to give them time to mate and birth theirchildren. This is an ancient story that I used in The Soulmate Myth to illustrate
how old the concept of a soulmate or twinflame is. I thought of Margaret andStephen when looking at Nuit arched over the curled-over Geb with their fingersand toes almost touching. So tender and yearning. Twinflames indeed. Stephen andMargaret are so fortunate to have each other at this time. Stephen is a treasure. Icould see him anchoring Margaret into this world while letting her spirit soar.
c. Tore Lomsdalen
The hand of Nuit, the sky goddess, Dendera
c. Tore Lomsdalen
Geb the earth god curled over under the sheltering body of his sister-wifesoulmate Nuit
Geb, the earth god is curled around himself to the left of the picture with his armoutstretched reaching towards the hand of Nuit on the right. Above: Geb fromanother ceiling. This picture suggest to me that the ancient Egyptians understandthe rotation of the earth.
Margaret’s experience has released in a different kind of creativity in her.She’s written in her blog about getting so immersed in Zentangles that she couldforget about being in hospital (when the staff would leave her alone long enough). Ilove the idea of Zentangles, much like hieroglyphs as they create many layers ofmeaning. Hieroglyphs are ideogrammatic, invoking a series of concepts and ideasrather than merely one fixed meaning, and are capable of triggering an emotionalresponse. So, for instance, an owl (mulotch in Ancient Egyptian) represents theletter ‘m’ but beyond this it is also the universal concept of wisdom, secrecy andseeing in dark places. Put it together with the symbol for a chairback and you get
the name ‘Sem’ the wise priest who lends us support as we explore the mysteries.
c. Terrie BirchThe ‘m’ hieroglyph is on the right, the one to the left which looks like a bone is the
symbol for flesh and bone and also for progeny
Looking at hieroglyphs brought me back to what Normandi Ellis says about giving uptrying to understand with your head but instead walking within the book:
Hieroglyphic images work upon the psyche through symbol, association,metaphor, story and sound. They require the spiritual aspirant to slow down,to meditate, to intuitive, and to dream… God speaks through the eyes, theear, the heart, and the natural world… As they entered the book, the bookentered them.
We had one more amazing experience in this temple, but we wouldn’t know ituntil we were home again. Having been down into one of the underground crypts(which I believe to be part of ancient initiations as I wrote in Torn Clouds), Toreclimbed up to one of the mysterious ‘crypts’ set into the thick walls – this onedecorated with belly dancers. Patricia, no mean belly dancer herself, took twopsychic photos – even more spooky than seeing H’er Khat manifest. In one Tore isflooded with golden light although there was no sunlight and precious little electriclight in the chamber. In the other it looks to me as though many layers of his inner
self are being shown and at least one incarnation as an ancient Egyptian. As Toresaid, he loved that temple and felt totally at home there. I think he was - especiallyas he’d done a regression to a life as a ‘sky-watcher’ priest in the ancient templesthe evening before! That hair-like line beneath his arm is not a hair on the lens, italso appeared in several of Terrie’s pictures, changing form from moment tomoment. Exactly what it is has not become clear – yet.
The Venus cycle. Hieroglyphs embody many levels of meaning as this Hathorsi strum (musical instrument) in the hands of Pharaoh shows, see also the‘cow’s horn rays’ above.
Stepping through the worlds. The many faces of Tore. Camera was held absolutelystill and there was no fault with the lens. Subsequent shots were fine.. Note the
squiggly line to the right. I see an ancient Egyptian in the background.
Photo in the same place seconds earlier. There was no light source that wouldaccount for the golden light, note how the line beneath the arm changed form
Our driver Bono offered us the choice to return on the old road on theother bank alongside the green, green fertile Nile, coming full circle. A few speedbumps and checkpoints to negotiate but a highly successful trip. All that was leftwas to pack and leave for the airport next morning – well before sunrise once more.I was able to buy a beautiful sparkling alabaster Sobek for Margaret to guard herduring her passage through the Other World.
Much reflection has been going on since and new insights will no doubt ariseabout my own process and how it intertwined with both ancient Egypt andMargaret’s journey. I’m letting the connections percolate naturally, thinking isproscribed for the time being! Jeni Powell’s guide told me that I would probablynever know all that had been done and I’m content with that. It was part of being.But see The Big P.S. for the latest news.
The last thing I said to Terrie before we parted was that I was tired of‘working’ on myself as that meant that there was always something wrong with me,and so I was going back to one of my favourite affirmations ‘I am perfect exactlyas I am in this present moment.’ It was wonderful to have that confirmed byKindred Spirit arriving the next morning with the affirmation printed alongside a
bright pink tulip – Margaret’s colour of choice for hospital visits and Hathor’s ownspecial hue. Heart-centred intelligence indeed. I leave you with a quote from JohnAnthony West’s Traveller’s Key to Ancient Egypt which also accompanies mytravels:
I would like to acknowledge with grateful thanks the skills of my fellow travellers,the photographers Tore Lomsdalen, Terrie Birch and Patricia Korsgaard. Theircompanionship and sense of fun, and their kindness and care for Margaret andStephen. Also the members of the Solos tour who played out their parts without
knowing they were taking part in a mystic drama of epic proportions. And much loveto Margaret Cahill without whom the journey could not have been made. Her blogcan be found at http://wwww.margaretcahill.wordpress.com/. Blessings too toStephen Gawtry for the Normandi Ellis book and to Alan Richardson and the late B.Walker-John for starting the process so many years ago. And to Christine Aziz forallowing me to use the first verse of her poem-in-progress The Ancient Gods seehttp://www.wordsfromarevolution.com/. Her hymn to Isis is simply amazing, sorelevant throughout aeons of time.
Judy Hall crystals including a limited supply of Nubian temple stones are availablefrom: www.angeladditions.co.uk
Indispensible accompaniments for the journey which can be accessed through theAmazon button on my website www.judyhall.co.uk:
For instructions on how to make the journey to the Sekhmet Sanctuary yourselfwith the aid of a crystal see:
Crystals and Sacred Sites: Use crystals to access the power of sacred landscapefor personal and planetary transformation Fairwinds Press £12.99
Torn Clouds: a timeslip novel of romance and regeneration Kindle or paperbackversion: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Torn-Clouds-Judy-Hall/dp/1903816807/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1365343079&sr=1-1&keywords=Torn+Clouds
The Inner Guide to Egypt, Alan Richardson and B. Walker-John; Imagining theWorld into Existence, Normandi Ellis; The Travellers Key to Ancient Egypt, John
Anthony West
Clearing essences: Petaltone Zl4 and Clear2Light www.petaltone.co.uk
For events following our return, go to The Big P.S.
