The Egyptian Goddess Isis & An Offering

For my whole life I have been blessed to have Goddesses appear that I need.  Sometimes, I am made aware of a presence but the reason is not immediate;  such has been this past week with the Egyptian Goddess Isis.

Isis is a Goddess that lives in my heart and she is also the Goddess that wraps her wings around my son (Z) and protects him as her own.  My son became attached to a statue of Isis (he called her Ice-Ice) when he was 18 months old.  Z would carry her around with him, put her next to his bed, talk to her and one night, as he was falling asleep and I lay next to him drowsy myself, I felt her wings.  She enclosed both of us in these magnificently huge, warm, safe wings and we slept.  I knew then and now that Isis walks with my son always.  Z was, in fact, born on the Feast Day of Horus – the son of Isis – and there is no doubt that there is a bond there that supersedes my human understanding.

When my son was 5 and a friend was going to Egypt, we asked Z if there was anything he wanted from Egypt.  He went into his room and came back with the little statue that he had for years and he said he wanted our friend to take his Isis back to Egypt and he wanted a new one.  Our friend made a trip to Philae just to leave Z’s Isis in the right place.  Z placed his Isis in a beautiful silk purple bag and asked me for some flowers.  He placed them inside the bag with some favorite crystals and then he wrote her a letter.  It was an amazing event to witness from this child and so touching that his first love letter was to a Goddess.

In times that he and I were separate as he flew back east to spend summers with his Father, I would pray to Isis and ask her to pay extra care while he was away from me.  She always kept him safe.

My Son – Z

Last Sunday, I pulled Isis for for the week.  And then life happened and work happened and I kept thinking … where is She?  and I need to make time to meditate … to connect … and then work would interrupt again.

My son announced his first girlfriend this week – he has just been GLOWING (can I say that about a boy?) – however I should say it, he has been over the moon.  As I watched him in the giddy excitement of firsts, I felt so much joy for him but also a hint of sadness and there, in that moment I felt the hand of Isis on my shoulder as we both acknowledged the ascent of our babies to boys and then to men.

I thought that was the message … the bond of Motherhood … the bond of my son, but she was not quite done.

I met with a friend this morning who has known me for a long time (over 12 years).  We talked about Egypt and the New Moon tomorrow night and the Solar Eclipse Ring of Fire and the Pleaidian alignment.  SO MUCH HAPPENING and all happening tomorrow – Sunday, May 20.

7 years ago almost to the precise day, I began a journey and 7 years later, here I sit, at the place where I began.  The physical place anyway.  And the swirlings of synchronicity and time memory began – The Pleiades are the Seven Sisters and ruled by Hathor – sister to Isis … Ascension … Isis …  my son …  Motherhood …  my own Mother … new beginnings, lessons learned, love and joy and the need to release.  Helllllooooooo Isis.  She found me.

She is a Goddess who knows a lot about pain and grieving.  She is the Eternal Mother.

Isis and Osiris

 

I want to offer up a quote from Awakening Osiris by Normandi Ellis as the Prayer to Isis for Week 3 of 52 Goddesses.  The quote is taken from a portion of the book called Becoming the Child

“In seafoam, in swirlings and imaginings I am fish, tadpole, crocodile. I am an urge, an idea, a portent of impossible dreams. I lie between heaven and earth, between innocence and evil, patience and explosion. I am innocent and rosy as dawn. I sleep with my finger in my mouth, the cord of life curled beside my ear. Like a child in its mother’s belly, I am with you but not among you. I know no ending for I have no beginnings. I have always been here, a child in the silence of things, ready to wake at any moment. 

I am possibility. 

What I hate is ignorance, smallness of imagination, the eye that sees no farther than its own lashes. All things are possible. When we speak in anger, anger will be our truth. When we speak in love and live by love, truth in love will be our comfort. Who you are is limited only by who you think you are. I am the word before its utterance. I am thought and desire. I am a child in the throat of god. Things are possible – joy and sorrow, men and women, children. Someday I’ll imagine myself a different man, build bone and make flesh around him. I am with you but a moment for an eternity. I am the name of everything. 

I’ve dreamed the nightmare a hundred times, that old revulsion of bone and flesh, waking in sweat, in a headlong rush toward the world, into the cool certainty of fires that burn in sudden stars, the heat in the body. That I am precludes my never having been. 

What I know was given to me to say. There is more. 

There are words that exist only in the mind of heaven, a bright knowing, a clear moment of being. When you know it, you know yourself well enough. You will not speak. I am a child resting in love, in the pleasure of clouds. I read the book of the river. I hold the magic of stones and trees. I find god in my fingers and in the wings of birds. I am my delight, creator of my destiny. It is not vanity. 

There are those who live in the boundaries of guilt and fear, the limits of imagination. They believe limitation is the world. You can not change them. There is work of your own to do. You will never reach the end of your own becoming, the madness of creation, the joy of existence. 

Dance in the moment. Reach down and pull up song. Spin and chant and forget the sorrow that we are flesh on bone. I return to the rhythm of water, to the dark song I was in my mother’s belly. We were gods then and we knew it. We are gods now dancing in whirling darkness, spitting flame like stars in the night. 

In the womb before the world began, I was a child among other gods and children who were, or may be, or might have been. There in the dark when we could not see each other’s faces, we agreed with one mind to be born, to separate, to forget the pact we made that we might learn the secrets of our fraternity. We agreed to know sorrow in exchange for joy, to know death in exchange for life. We were dark seeds of possibility whispering. Then one by one we entered alone. We walked on our legs, and as we had said, we passed in well-lit streets without recognising each other; yet we were gods sheathed in flesh, the multitude of a single spirit. Gods live even in darkness, in the world above your heads, in the crevices of rocks, in the open palms of strangers. 

I am a child, the seed in everything, the rhythm of flowers, the old story that lingers. Among cattle and fruit sellers, I am air. I am love hidden in a shy maiden’s gown. I am the name of things. I am the dream changing before your eyes. I am my body, a house for blood and breath. I am a man on earth and a god in heaven. While I travel the deserts in frail form, while I grow old and weep and die, I live always as a child inside the body of truth, a blue egg that rocks in the storm but never breaks. I sleep in peace in my mother’s lap, a child mesmerised by sunlight on the river. My soul is swallowed up by god. 

Out of chaos came the light. 

Out of the will came life.” 

Isis is the blue light that surrounds us and never breaks.  Her’s is the lap that is offered when we need peace …

Thank you, Isis for reminding me of your protection and Thank You for being the blue light of love around my son.

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