My name is Seshat Akh Sekhem . . . I am speaking from the place of ancients awaiting the rejoining of Ka with a flesh vessel. As I have walked the ancient sands of Egypt before and she shall again; the one who waits. My time was that of Kehemit’s truest glory. A time when the stars called to Khonsu, the Moon, who called to the Nile and she answered with flooding abundance. That was a time when the Neteru (gods/goddesses) walked upon the land, kissing their most beloved places with purity of purpose and welcomed the honor, offerings and love from all those of flesh. Yet, I have grown weary of this state of non-existence. Oh, for way too long have I waited and yearned to complete my Ka (soul) and once again breath the hot desert air. Oh, how I pine the reclaiming of her, becoming once more as one. My impatience grows. My search has taken me into the depths of many realms and the darkest of shadow places. Oh, therein, I did find the link between our abs (hearts) and then traced it through time and space. I grow wearier each moment that passes unfulfilled by our joining.
I wait . . . I walk unseen amidst humankind as they go about their lives so unaware that the gods have never truly left their temples or stopped listening to their pleas. Have we been forgotten or lost in this place of no time? Anubis has granted me vision to look through new eyes—eyes that do not yet remember who we were; who we are . . . but they will. I shall make myself known to her . . . I must! All about me is strangeness now. I brood over the losses of many lives, yet as the ever-shifting sand is blown by the restless winds, only loneliness feels real even as I search for her. Why is she not searching for me? Why does she not come? Why does she not seek me? Why is she not wherever I seek her?
I climb stone steps to the highest place. I look intently, but there is nothing but the expanse of sand, a ribbon river snaking across it and the canopy of azure sky overhead. She walks nowhere that I can see. Only visible to my eyes are the residual haunts that is our many pasts; remnants left of a past empire disgracefully scattered below my feet. Familiar bits of fragmented heka spells still are whispering to willing ears, but sadly cannot touch the hearts of the distrustful. Overhead, I hear Horus taking wing. He appears to those walking the earth below his sky-realm as a mere hawk, but I know he is much more elegant as a neter of the sun. Indeed, his screeching mocks me, calling out that I am foolish to meddle in the balance of Ma’at or the affairs of humankind . . . yet, I care not; I shall not listen.
My heart aches as I peruse the broken temple ruins beneath my feet. It’s immense stone blocks covered in hieroglyphs speaking of beauty and wonderment, some of the tallest pylons still stand and other fat columns lay as felled trees amongst broken mud brick debris; so much wasted rubble and shattered magic. Although they are only patina-coated ruins now, they once stood as silent sentinels, decorated with messages for the gods and sported propaganda for the masses. Oh, how I remember them humming with sacredness as the vibrational heka/akhu made by singing and chanting of priests and priestesses . . . that sacred empowerment served as daily enlivenment for my temple sites that also extended above as it did for miles outward below. Yet, I still stretch my arms outward and turn my palms downward seeking the remnants of that ancient mystical sacredness. I cry out. Only painful remorse burns in my breast for this hurtful neglect of the old ways lost. I cry harder to see such utter abandonment of our ancient magic. Yet, no tears come forth. Silently I wonder, but no answer is granted; merely a deepening of my sorry for the losses of both my temple and the one I seek. Neither stirs in response for neglect has numbed the old ways and silenced their voice.
Yet, I look and see my temple exactly as eons before. She will only see the ruin and rubble left by time. Although as the reunification comes, that will change—for her mere fragments of déjà vu dragged unwittingly from her memories and thrown across the path of now. Together we will reconnect the puzzlement that lies below and return it to when it was born in the time when the Neteru walked about in the great structures. Then what of temple and ka (soul) was broken, scarred and incomplete shall be reunited, again glorious and standing straight and tall. Alas, I care not that others laugh, calling this my folly for I know that within her beating, ready heart is a flame that only I can rekindle.
She shall walk our sands again and remember. The message was sent upon the Cosmic Scarab, Khephera, who shall soon call her from the Djet—that timeless place. Her memories stir even now, causing the restlessness of the darkest night. I’ve touched her soul (Ka) and it responded with a renewed willingness. I whispered and with my breath, I sent her our name – Seshat Akh Sekhem – and she awoke with it kissed upon sleeping lips. The flame within her ignited! Oh, I was forewarned against interfering with what she must discover yet before the re-membering begins and souls are reunited. But, she has answered my call, of that I am certain.
She will soon return HOME. We shall soon breathe the Nile breezes and dance beneath Ra and Khonsu as One. Oh, she surely returns eagerly and ready of heart, mind and spirit. She is here, I feel her presence . . . She is home, at last . . . and ever so ready to awaken to mystical Egypt and the Neteru. I shall descend this place and go to Anubis, the way shower who must open the gate between and part the veil between us.
(Part 2 - Next Month)
BRAVE WORDS worth SHARING . . . Again I am presented by Spirit with the words of a friend -- Brenda Silverhand -- that many of my close friends and readers will know as the wife of Ted Silverhand and a wonderful writer, intuitive and WISE WOMAN in her own right. They now live in Vancouver, ON and are missed by many. Recently Brenda send this story of her personal experience upon the astral plane; spoken to her by Spirit Guides/Messengers and I was so taken by the message, I asked to share it as a blog post with my readers. I hope you will find this enigmatic story as powerful as I and feel free to pass the words on in any manner that feels right within you for it is one that inspired me to use as the blog for March; the month that takes us from Winter's solitude, solace and soul searching and leads the way (whether we are greeted by March in her guise as a lamb or lioness - okay for the guys, her guise as a buck sheep or maned lion) toward sunshine on the head, birdsong in the heart and promising ideas sprouting in our hearts . . . The moral of this story I think is so befitting of the courage each of us carry within, but sometimes becomes overshadowed by fear and seemingly lost in the chaotic world around us . . . LET US ALL BIRTH THE COURAGE ANEW AND CLIMB ABOARD THE SPIRIT HORSE AND BE CARRIED ACROSS THE RICKETY BRIDGE! ENJOY AND BE ENCOURAGED!
Brenda Silverhand, author, writes . . .
Dear Friends of Spirit,
Recently a client who was in severe stress came to Ted's office for a consultation. As is often my custom, I retreated to the deck facing the forest and began to pray that Ted would hear from Spirit healing words to give the frightened and weary traveler and that his heart would be open to receive.
I meditated for some time, listening to the birds sing their songs of joy and watching squirrels run and play with each other. It was in an attitude of peace and love that I offered prayers for this man sitting with Ted, who was suffering so intensely.
As I continued to gaze into the forest, I saw the trees beginning to wave in a sudden breeze as clouds began to overtake the sun. I watched closely as a thick mist began to roll in making the outline of the trees barely visible. In the distance I witnessed a bridge being formed. It appeared to be a very old structure many miles long that seemed to be in disrepair, yet still standing. I wondered how long the ancient bridge had been there...perhaps for many lifetimes? I could not be sure. My view allowed me to see the entire length of the bridge.
On one side there appeared to be a luminous environment with brilliant sun, crystal blue skies, vibrant plants and flowers, love and a harmonic atmosphere of peace. It was beautiful to see and I longed to go there immediately! Yet my attention was taken to the opposite side of the bridge where there was a very large crowd of people gathered in ultimate chaos. They were in the midst of violent storms as torrential rains came, severe winds blew and the waters raged mightily beneath the bridge. Halfway across its structure were dark clouds preventing the people from seeing the other side.
Families agonized in despair. Because the bridge was old and they could not see what was ahead, they shrank back in fear. They cried and lamented over their pain and their misfortunes. They spoke to one another about how difficult their lives were and complained that Spirit had sent them such atrocities. They questioned why they were trapped in such impending doom. The more the people talked among themselves the more colossal and more tumultuous the clouds appeared that prevented them from seeing the new life on the other side. It was as if their collective energy increased the severity of the situation. The storms became more violent and the dangerous waters below were rising. Negative emotions feeding negative emotions gave birth to greater despair and deeper sadness.
In the midst of this chaos, appeared an elder who was neither male nor female, draped in a long, hooded robe. The face of the elder could not be seen, yet the presence of that being was peaceful and serene. Next to the elder stood a rather ordinary looking horse. By all appearances there was nothing special about that horse. It was not beautiful, it was not a race horse or a thoroughbred; it seemed to be just an average horse who was not much affected by the chaotic dramas of the people. He also showed no fear of the violent storms, the high winds or the mighty waters that were getting higher. The horse was as serene as the elder he stood beside.
The crowd quieted themselves to observe this strange spectacle as the elder began to speak in a tranquil and peaceful manner to the gathering. The old Master instructed the people that they must each mount the horse named Courage and begin to cross the Bridge called Fear one at a time to get to safety. The ancient one described the new life of freedom from the past and peace that awaited them on the other side. It would be a new beginning with new opportunities. "Courage will take you to the Land of Light, do not be afraid", he said. Yet the people were fearful and asked if they could all go together or even in small groups but the elder said that each person would have to ride Courage alone, across the Bridge of Fear, one by one.
Voices rose in protest as some began to look back at the memories and "the stuff " they had collected on their side of the bridge. Because they could not see the land of new beginnings, they would not trust the wisdom of the elder. They believed the bridge was too old and Courage could not carry them to freedom. They began to think the Wise One was foolish and senile and they were safer in their own misery they had created.
Great debates ensued with the political and religious leaders of the community. Some had obtained great wealth and many acquisitions and were quite accustom to their way of life. Others were too ill and too weary and did not believe they could make the journey. Many had been victims of one sort or another and did not trust there was a better life awaiting them.
The Ancient One waited patiently with Courage to take the people across the Bridge of Fear, but no one came. All they could see was the old shabby bridge, the raging waters below and the murky clouds ahead. One by one they voiced their excuses and chose to remain where they deemed themselves to be safe from impending doom and certain death.
As the old one and the horse seemed to fade away from view and the voices became less audible, my mind returned to the man downstairs with Ted in such dire stress. So many of us have lost our heart and our passion for life. We have settled for our familiar past of being a victim, being abused, raped, terminally ill, a survivor of some description, an orphan. We know there is a better life; some people are enjoying it now, yet we choose to stay trapped in our past filled with our familiar companions, Fear and Pain. We know that it is us and only us who must mount that horse called Courage and ride it through the storms and the dark clouds to the other side where new life and new beginnings are awaiting us.
Spirit says life as we have known it is nearly over. Chaos, violent weather patterns and international events will continue to threaten our current way of life. Change is coming whether we are prepared or we are not. The next president of the United States or any organization created will not miraculously save us. Survival in the times ahead will be determined by the courage we have and the choices each one of us makes.
In the end, all we really have to do is choose life and move forward, one action at a time.
Know that you are never alone and that the Great Mystery walks beside you and is with you on your journey.
Ted and I send our love to you and your families.
Walk in Power! Many blessings,
INSPIRATION AT THE TEMPLE AT PHILAE in GHAZOL During a visit (March, 2011) to Philae Island Temple to Isis, this was written in the specific format known as a ghazol – the format of this poetic style is to set 10 lines in sets of 2, written such as this theme – “wings above the Nile” – which becomes as a refrain; two lines with the second ending with the refrain, then 3 with 4th ending with refrain, and finally line 9 includes the name, nickname or part of author’s identification (or in this them, perhaps that would be the author’s (me) REN or power name to finalize line 10 and ending with a repeat of the refrain. Enjoy and perhaps, take up the challenge to try your hand a writing your own form of a Ghazol?
Here's one hint: This author's Egyptian/Spirit Ren is Seshat Ahk Sekhem
WINGS ABOVE THE NILE
Late morning stars bear witness briefly as Khephera-Ra spreads beetle wings above the Nile,
A night bird coos warning the dark temple, there come now greater wings above the Nile.
The dismembered father laments and wails lost from light within Amenti’s dark halls,
Come to me quickly, Skyr, Sokaris rises on golden wings seeking on wings above the Nile.
Searching, ever seeking as water mirrors the face of the mother, weeping for what is lost,
The son takes flight screaming challenge and bright promise on mottled wings above the Nile.
There, too, Set grins treacherous and sly; his revenge taken in bloody deed and he is prideful,
Spear upheld, aimed at a dark heart, avenging Horus reclaims peace on wings above the Nile.
Seshat scribes the deed, declaring that Ahk Sekhem once again flies on wings above the Nile,
Thoth plucks an eye for one that was lost; Ever-vigilant Horus glides on wings above the Nile.
An incredible Author and Egyptologist and one of my favorite, has left us. I wanted to share the Tribute, written by Robert M. Schoch (an incredible Author and Egyptologist, as well) as a blog post. I hope my readers will appreciate the scope of John's life work; I would expect most of those who have even tapped into articles or books on ancient Egypt would know this name; for those who haven not, let me share what Robert Schoch said. My heart is rather uncertain whether to hurt or rejoice: definitely it hurts for the passing of this amazing man who lived and loved Egypt to the deepest heart level; definitely rejoices to think he may be walking among the Neteru (gods/goddesses of Ancient Egypt), able to ask his questions of them in person and be given the answers he speculated upon or was left with missing pieces of information/truth, indeed, getting it "Right from the Theriontrope's Mouth". I can only hope that my meager blogs, essays and book (series of 3 when all are finished) in some way serve to add to the tribute due John Anthony West and in a small way, honor his legacy of a lifetime of wisdom gained from the Mysteries of Ancient Egypt. . . . . SHUKRON to Robert M. Schoch for this extraordinary tribute -- MULTIPLIED SHUKRONS to John Anthony West, from whom I have long-gleaned a great deal of insight, inspiration and Speculative Ideas about the unknown side of Egypt's past from his many writings/books. Indeed, John shall never be forgotten as long as the pyramids stand, the Nile snakes its way dividing the land of the living from the land of the dead and the breath of the Neteru, the winds sweep across, changing the lay of the ancient sands.
A Tribute to John Anthony West
(1932 – 2018)
On Dying and Death By Robert M. Schoch
(Posted 9 February 2018/ My Reposting February 9, 2018) John Anthony West died on 6 February 2018. I cried when I learned the news. Yes, I cried, and I still do when I realize he is gone from this world. Not one for unnecessary sentimentality (he had a soft and kind soul housed in what could sometimes come across as a bitingly sarcastic façade – he considered himself a satirist, at least in part), I doubt West would want me to state it any other way (this pertains to me and my friendship with him; he might prefer different words from others). Of course, if one knows anything about West and his work, one realizes that here we are referring to merely physical death, not total annihilation of his consciousness, being, spirit, soul, or whatever term one may want to use – West fully believed that there was something more, much more, than this physicalist materialistic life on planet Earth.
Robert Schoch and John Anthony West together in Sandane, Norway -- enjoying each other's company by the water on a very cold day!
JAW1 was my friend and colleague for nearly three full decades, a period of time that now seems all too short and went by much too quickly. Despite being a generation apart (JAW was born a few months short of twenty-five years before I was), we were very close – not only as professional colleagues and collaborators in research, but as personal friends. I cannot express how deeply I miss him even now, and I do not believe it will become any easier in the future, but I do want to continue the research, as he always encouraged me to do, and thus perpetuate his memory and legacy. There were books and other projects we were collaborating on together – I do not know what will come of these; much will depend on the state of affairs after his notes and manuscripts2 are sorted through by his family.
Once I can pull myself together (I am finding that it is difficult dealing with such a loss), I will perhaps post some biographical notes, recollections, reflections, anecdotes, and so forth, regarding JAW. The thought of writing a biography of him has already crossed my mind; JAW’s work and influence certainly deserve to be recorded and disseminated for posterity. For those who would like to share anecdotes, memories, photos, and information regarding JAW, please feel free to write to me at "info at robertschoch dot com".
For the time being, I am posting here some photos of JAW (and I), recollecting the great times we shared, along with a few notes regarding his death and some thoughts, indeed his thoughts, on dying and death.
It was in late 2016–early 2017 when JAW suddenly and unexpectedly felt ill and was ultimately diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer that, originating in his left lung, had spread throughout his body, including into his brain. During the previous summer JAW and I had been in Egypt together once again, this time along with my wife Katie and JAW’s adult son Zeke, pursuing further research on our mutual interests, including the Great Sphinx. In December 2016, JAW led one of his famous tours to Egypt, but he began to show abnormal signs of fatigue and even illness during the trip. Upon returning to the United States, he consulted a physician and that is when the cancer was discovered. JAW was scheduled to lead another two-week tour to Egypt in February–March 2017, but he found himself in the hospital instead (although still fully conscious and alert at that point). Out of friendship and at the request of the family, I rearranged my schedule and on a volunteer basis I led the tour in place of JAW. But the tour was still JAW’s. I did my best to represent his points of view and analyses at the various sites we visited, from the Giza Plateau in Cairo to Abu Simbel in the far south. Additionally, I included my own observations and commentary as well.
Robert Schoch and John Anthony West by the Great Sphinx.
While leading the final JAW Egypt tour, given the state that my close friend was in at the time (after all, that is why I was leading the tour in his stead), I could not help but contemplate issues of dying and death. It is often remarked that the ancient Egyptians seemed to have had an obsession with death – and this is reinforced by the fact that much of what we know about them comes from tombs or supposed tombs. (I am not convinced that all of the various pyramids, mastabas, and supposed underground “tombs”, were necessarily tombs. In some cases, earlier structures used for other purposes may have later been converted into tombs.) Much of ancient Egyptian literature, such as the Pyramid Texts and the so-called Book of the Dead, have a funerary context. And of course the ancient Egyptians were famous for their elaborate mummification procedures. This pervasive theme of death running through so many of the monuments we visited, combined with JAW’s struggle to avoid immediate death, perhaps understandably kept bringing my thoughts back to this great event, so terrifying for many souls, that all mortals must ultimately face. If one is to ponder such issues, what better place than among the remains that have survived from ancient Egypt? I found it cathartic, and I am convinced that the ancient Egyptians possessed profound insights into such matters that we can benefit from today.
As JAW, based on his analyses of the work of R. A. Schwaller de Lubicz (1887–1961)3, pointed out, the core of the ancient Egyptian belief system, of ancient Egyptian religion, focused on the concept of spirit or consciousness manifesting in the material world, and the rising or transformation of the material back to the spiritual, back to the realm of the divine, back to consciousness. To quote JAW directly regarding this topic:
"The manner in which the spiritual generates and interacts with the physical is the basis of the entire Egyptian doctrine. The study of physical realities produces physical science; the study of spiritual realities produces sacred science."4
The Egyptians put sacred science to practice. According to Egyptian doctrine, "consciousness is the primordial property, that which precedes all else: the All or Absolute is conscious. It is consciousness that ultimately calls the universe into existence, and it is consciousness that, ultimately, sustains it."5
Furthermore, we as conscious entities do not necessarily cease to exist upon physical death. There is the potential (a potential that can only be fully realized by sincere spiritual work and discipline) for our consciousness to continue, to go on, to live – either for some limited period of time, or ultimately perhaps to become immortal. For the ancient Egyptians, physical material death in this life was not death in any final sense, but a transition, a passage, a transformation. To quote JAW once again:
"Now when death is regarded not (as with us) as an ultimate dissolution, but rather as a transitional (and crucial) stage of a journey, then the apparent Egyptian preoccupation with death becomes exactly the opposite of what it seems to be. It is, in fact, a preoccupation with life in the deepest possible sense."6
Postcard image from the Tomb of Saptah (in the Valley of the Kings) showing the deceased being carried in the afterlife on a lion-shaped bed (potentially indicative of solar plasma, or hydrogen), watched over by Anubis who guards the dead.
Given this emphasis on consciousness, on the spiritual, as fundamental and primordial, what do we make of the elaborate mummification procedures, funerary rites, and supposed tombs stockpiled with physical goods that are so iconic of ancient Egypt? Mummification and its attendant rituals appears on one level to be grossly materialistic, the ancient version of modern cryonic preservation of a human body with the hope that at some future date, with the advancement of medicine and technology, the deceased might be resuscitated and restored to health – that is, be brought back to life in a physical sense. But such an interpretation of Egyptian mummification and entombment is to force our values and beliefs on a very different culture. Rather, according to JAW (again, based on the earlier work of Schwaller), mummification relates to the two possible spiritual paths that, according to the ancient Egyptian doctrine, were available to an individual: reincarnation and resurrection.
"Like all other initiatic teaching, Egypt held that man's purpose on earth was the return to the source. There were recognized in Egypt two roads to this same goal. The one was the way of Osiris, who represented the cyclic nature of universal process; this was the way of successive reincarnations. The second road was the way of Horus, the direct path to resurrection that the individual might achieve within a single lifetime."7
In this context, the ultimate goal is resurrection, whether after many earthly existences (incarnations and reincarnations) or only a few. Resurrection as viewed by the ancient Egyptians is not the concept that is sometimes envisioned in a Christian context of persons rising out of their graves clothed with physical or material-like bodies; rather resurrection is the reunification with the divine, with the ultimate source, with the God of gods who created the cosmos and all within it.
Reincarnation is a path (in some cases a seemingly endless path, or even a diversion) toward the ultimate goal of resurrection. Reincarnation may, in the short-term, be of benefit for the development of the soul, but ultimately the goal is to become a "fully realized" or "perfected" individual who can resurrect and reunite with the divine source. And this is where mummification played a key role in ancient Egypt.
From an ancient Egyptian perspective, mummification was a way to keep the individual from reincarnating. As long as the physical body remained intact, then the individual – the soul – continued its existence in the Duat (the underworld, the realm of the dead ruled by Osiris). In the Duat the soul could continue its spiritual development, ultimately (if all went well) becoming a "perfected" or "realized" individual without having to undergo additional physical reincarnations. And what happens to the perfected individual according to ancient Egyptian doctrine? JAW answered with the following words:
"The realized or perfected individual 'becomes a star and joins the company of Re, and sails with him across the sky in his boat of millions of years.’ "8
Image from the Tomb of Ramses IX depicting man among (at home in) the stars – a "star child".
Re (=Ra) is the primordial cosmic creator or creative source, visibly manifested as the Sun. As JAW writes, Re "is the solar principle responsible for all creation"9. Thus, Re is the source and origin of all creation, all that is and was and will be, the divine spark, the consciousness (the word) behind and underlying all manifestations, material and immaterial. To join the company of Re is to return to the source, to the divine origin of all things, to become a god. And how does a human do so? By becoming a star or a sun (for our Sun is simply a star from an astrophysical perspective). We must become the Sun! This is the ultimate destiny that the spirit or soul or personality or consciousness strives for.
JAW, writing in 1985, remarked that the ancient Egyptian concept of becoming a star, or becoming the Sun, is "beautifully poetic"10, without fully considering the possibility that such language is perhaps to be taken literally. However, what if our Sun and the stars are indeed conscious? What if, when we die our consciousness has the potential to literally become a star, or unite with the already existing consciousness of our Sun or perhaps some other star? This is something that Katie (my wife, she knew JAW well) has been developing11, and JAW was certainly intrigued by her ideas. Stars are comprised largely of hydrogen, and it has been demonstrated that hydrogen can encode information. Are we on the brink of beginning to understand, in modern terms, the core of the sacred science? Is the essence of ourselves carried (perhaps via hydrogen or its components) to the heavens? The ancient Egyptians certainly believed we can become stars, and now JAW is discovering the truth firsthand. He is off on another great adventure. Wherever he is, whatever he may be doing at this moment, I wish my dear friend well on his journey.
Robert Schoch and John Anthony West enjoying time together and conversation in JAW's home in New York.
Endnotes:1. On a personal note, the names we habitually used for each other, from the first day we met, were “West” and “Schoch”. On occasion, when in the presence of other people, I might refer to him as, or call him, “John”, but I do not remember him ever using any name other than “Schoch” for me. For the sake of convenience, however, I will refer to him as “JAW” for the duration of this article. Some people actually verbalize the word “Jaw” as a nickname for West.
2. In this day and age, many of his notes and manuscripts may only exist electronically. I do hope they can be located and accessed. He was, by his own admission, notorious for being both “inefficient” and “unorganized” – common signs of genius, I have been told. There is no doubt in my mind that he was a genius. I have known many intelligent and highly educated people. JAW was one of the best informed and most intelligent individuals I have ever met.
3. See: John Anthony West, Serpent in the Sky: The High Wisdom of Ancient Egypt. New York: Harper and Row, 1979 (Updated edition: Wheaton, Illinois: Quest Books, 1993). See also: John Anthony West, The Traveler's Key to Ancient Egypt: A Guide to the Sacred Places of Ancient Egypt. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1985 (Updated edition: Wheaton, Illinois: Quest Books, 1995).
4. The Traveler’s Key to Ancient Egypt, 1995, p. 59.
5. Traveler’s Key, p. 60.
6. Serpent in the Sky, 1993, p. 83.
7. Serpent, p. 83.
8. Traveler’s Key, p. 62.
9. Traveler’s Key, p. 66.
10. Traveler’s Key, p. 62 (this was originally written in 1985).