Netjeri

I’m a little late this time. The Fourth of July and related fun delayed me a bit. I wanted to do a normal subject, like Names. Maybe I’ll do that one next week. This is the one that keeps coming up in my thoughts. I guess it wants to be told. Yes, it’s full of crack, woo, fluff, etc. You’ve been warned. If you don’t believe or agree with me, that’s fine. That is your right.

It is said that the Nisut, the Pharaoh, is the Living Heru, one who has the Kingly Ka. The Kingly Ka is said to contain the memory-impressions of former kings. That is not what I have. I haven’t made a huge secret about being otherkin, but I haven’t talked about it much on here either. My memory-impressions are not human, other than that they are being experienced and interpreted by a human mind at this time. This most likely colors them. I take them more as symbolic truth than as literal truth. They serve as a starting point for the contemplation of Netjer and netjeri.

Netjeri are usually equated with kemetic spirits, djinn, genus locii and others. It’s a pretty broad term. It can even refer to animal spirits, basically any noncorporeal being that is not human or god. The gods are capable of having a piece split off, either deliberately to make a servitor, or accidentally through trauma. That piece goes on living its own life as a netjeri. The line between netjeri and Netjer can get a little blurry in that area. Sometimes Kemetics talk about a netjeri that lives in a god’s statue that looks and talks much the same way that the god would. There can be thousands of these running around.

I remember a time before I had a form, a time before I had purpose. All my siblings were with me. We didn’t have names, because we didn’t need them. There was nothing to distinguish one from another, and no reason to do so. We flowed together, like in a cloud. It was difficult or impossible to tell where one left off and another began. It was peaceful. The absolute feeling of family and togetherness is difficult to describe. It was the time before separation. Part of me misses it, but the price of going back is the loss of everything I have now. I’m not ready to do that, yet. Another century? Ten? A thousand centuries? Maybe then. We’ll see, but not yet.

The Nun actually wasn’t a bad place to be. They describe it as the primordial waters, a vast ocean. I called it a cloud, but I can see the ocean thing too. It was very fluid with no real sense of up or down. They say it was dark. I tend to picture it as sky blue, but then, I like blue. I might describe it more like Nirvana. They say the gods were inert. Inert is not quite the same thing as dead. I definitely felt alive. You might ask if I would get bored when there’s nothing to do. The answer is no. The human mind is always a little bit unstable. It seeks stimulation to right itself in an ongoing battle. I was at peace there. There was no need to look for something to do just for the sake of doing something.

They say that Shu kicked it all off. He stirred the creator into motion. Shu is a god of separation. He separates the earth from the sky. I’m not sure he realized what he was getting everyone into. I imagine it as if he was saying, “Hey, look what I can do!” We were all a lot more innocent then.

I remember tearing across a battlefield like a horrifying force of nature. The Song flowed through my entire being. My Dance was perfection itself. Any who came near me, fell to my blade. No one could stop me or slow me down. Except…it started to dawn on me that those who stood before me were my own family. I couldn’t stop. The Song was too loud, but the discord of that realization slowed my movements. Finally, someone did stop me. I was glad that they did, but I was never quite the same after that.

Was this Heru-wer’s battle? Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t know why I was fighting, or how it turned out to be against my own people. I was definitely not in a normal state of consciousness.  Athletes and martial artists refer to it as being “in the zone.” It was like that, times a thousand. I was barely aware of anything beyond the dance itself. I know how dangerous “He Who Has No Eyes” can be. I feel sympathy for Sekhmet and her rampage. That doesn’t make it any less terrible, but I see how it could happen.

I remember standing guard in an unremarkable hallway in a divine palace. This time the Song was about doing exactly what I was made to do. I was so proud of my job that I glowed. I could have been standing there for five minutes, or for five thousand years. It would have made no difference to me. If someone who didn’t belong tried to walk through there, I would have shredded them with the exact same sense of pride. The goddess who owned the palace came to see me. Out of the hundreds of guards who were exactly the same, she came to see me! I knew I would do anything she asked without hesitation or question, and I did.

This last one seems more netjeri than Netjer. I knew there were hundreds of other guards in the palace. I couldn’t see them, but I could feel them through the Song. Again, time made no difference to me. I had no idea that violence might be a bad thing. No one ever told me that. I was as happy to see the goddess as a dog feels when its owner comes home from work. I was a simple being back then. Which goddess was it? I’m not entirely sure. I suspect Ma’at. I’m not sure who else would get that kind of starstruck reaction from me.

There was one more. It wasn’t exactly my memory. I did something like a soul-retrieval and ended up with another soul-fragment living with me. Part of the time he had the feel of someone just waking up from a nightmare, a little bit panicked and full of shock. Other times he felt very sensory-starved. He craved music, good food, dance, anything he could get. I asked Djehuty why he was like that. I felt as if my skin were turning to stone and I could feel him panicking in the back of my mind.

I believe he had been a statue netjeri who was abandoned. I know wars and disasters happen, but abandoning an open statue is a bad thing. They need to be decommissioned properly. The smaller ones aren’t much more than a spark, but the larger ones can persist in the darkness. Caring for an open statue is a real responsibility not to be entered lightly.  Treat the netjeri with the same respect that you would the god itself.

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