It’s fitting that the year of the two brothers should end in the shifting of several lives; only to begin once more with the upheaval of tremendous change. The Eye of Ra teaches us strength and perseverance; it teaches us to protect what is ours and to grit our teeth through the growing pains of the seasons of our lives. It lets us find the growth of new trees after the fires of destruction have culled the dead weight, and I find myself in much of that position now. I walk through the valley of a life left behind and turned to ash, only to reach down and trail a finger against the fragile and delicate green that pushes through charred earth.
I did not set the fire, but I did not extinguish it. I nurtured some of that flame, but some fires cannot be contained or quelled; only left to burn until there is nothing left to eat. I stand at the precipice of Zep Tepi once more, and my heart is not burdened. It is not eaten. It is as light as the feather of Ma’at, and I am ready to cultivate the dark earth once more.
This Wep Ronpet was celebrated in my new home. I have never had the ability or blessing before to celebrate it outside of Retreat, and I found it was a beautiful and poignant day. The days between the year I spent tying knots on loose ends and saying good-bye to the chapter that was closing on my life in my childhood home and state. I will not lie to my heart. It was hard. But it was cleansing, too. Netjer provided time for closure, they provided time to lament and to celebrate. To cry. To smile. And, now, to build again.
We rose to greet Ra at sunrise, we said our prayers and we had our silent moment. We smashed our pots and slayed the uncreated with a fervor that was exhilarating, and we cut the head off of the snake in the form of a cake that lasted through several sweet meals. We had beautiful shrines, activities, prayers and hymns. We felt Netjer through our ritual, and contacted the divine through this world and through our actions.
Wep Ronpet was the rise of not just a new day, not just a new year; but a new us. A new life. It is Netjer’s promise that the darkness only lasts until morning; and that they give us all the tools and strength to know them, to work with them, and to be a part of them in every act of creation. The last moments of the day and the death of a year is as much a part of life as the birth of it. There are no certain things, no certain moments save these two things. But there are promises. There are words, there is heka. There is the strength of each other and the love of a family, of a partner, of the memories in which we lay the foundation of our life down on.
Let Sekhmet destroy that which is in your life that stands in the way of your balance. Do not lay down and let it all fall asunder, take up your knives and your courage and give unto her that which is ready for slaughter. Let your heart be glad in Ma’at, and let your trust be the trust of a child. They will not let you fall down. Should you stumble without the strength to catch yourself, catch your flaws on the hook of Netjer and use your two hands to find the ground. Only when they are empty can you rise. We take with ourselves into the next world all of those things we wish to keep. What will you keep, when the time has come for Ma’at to usher in the end of the year?
Senebty, my family. A blessed Wep Ronpet to you, and may you always find the warmth in the dawning of Zep Tepi. Every day.
Knives of Light 