Nightmares and Tea

Sometimes, it’s a natural disaster, threatening but not quite here. I try to get people to listen to the warnings so that we can evacuate, but the danger creeps closer. I try to get away as my options close off one by one. Sometimes, I’m being hunted and I run. I zig and zag, but no matter how clever I am or how fast, they always follow. I always forget that I can fly or fight. I forget that I’m not powerless.

In the middle of the night, at Aset’s astral temple, I knocked on the back door until she let me in. It’s only natural to think your Mother will make things right when waking up from a nightmare, isn’t it? We talked for awhile until I fell asleep again.

Later, I woke up from a second stressful dream. She asked me what it had been about. I told her that I was trying to get down from a tall roof using an unstable ladder that looked like it would fall over at any second. She gazed down at the wing feathers sprouting from the arms of my astral body. Feeling embarrassed, I told her that I didn’t have those in the dream. My astral body tried to transform itself in response to the fear of falling without me realizing it.

She turned and walked over to a small table and set out two cups of tea and a couple of breakfast rolls. She told me to compose myself before sitting down to breakfast. I walked over to the basin and washed my face, checking myself in the mirror. I willed the feathers on my arms to disappear. She then informed me that I could not drink tea with talons. I was pretty sure that I could manage it, but I concentrated until my hands turned human again, with regular blunt fingernails. All the feathers, she insisted. The ones on my head too? I checked the mirror again until I appeared completely human, hair to toenails. Finally, I sat down at the table. The tea held hints of citrus and the roll was iced with blueberries inside. I thanked her for the breakfast.

Then she told me that next time I wake up from a nightmare, I should spend a few minutes thinking about how I could have solved the problem, and then shift myself into whatever form would have helped. But, I should compose myself again before sitting down to breakfast. It’s not that she wanted me to be human. She wanted me to learn control. Shifting and emotion are tied together. Learning when to use talons, and knowing when, and how, to put them away is a valuable skill.

Homesick

In the dark before I sleep, I feel the faintest touch of a presence that is not mine. Sometimes I know immediately who it is, and sometimes I have to guess. Sometimes They tell me or offer me hints, and sometimes they don’t. Either way, I know it’s one of Them.

“It’s good to see you,” I say. I say it almost every time. I mean it every time. As if I hadn’t seen them in months. Even if it was only last week. I feel like I’m always missing them, even if they’re only a thought away. The signal isn’t as clear as I’d like, but those times when it comes in clearly I am overwhelmed by them. There’s always a fog between here and there. Some days it’s thicker than others. But if it wasn’t there, what would I do? How could I focus on what needs doing here? It’s always frustrating, always lonely, squinting to see past the veil.

I don’t always need to know the names they’ve been called. There’s a certain feel, a certain resonance that lets me know they’re family. They are notes of the same scale, colors of the same palette. Still, it’s nice to have a name to use. The ancients used to refer to it as a scent. These days people call it an energy signature.

Sometimes I don’t get much more than that, just a vague presence. I start talking anyway, hoping they can hear me. Sometimes I get images or impressions back, sometimes words, sometimes just pure intention and I try to fill in the blanks. Sometimes the presence gets stronger and I see why they’re called gods. I see why people worship them. Sometimes we have entire conversations without using words.

Do these same beings have the power to reach across the gap and affect my life here? I honestly don’t know. It’s not like the old days when people believed that They ruled the world. But I still speak to them, still love them, whether they do or not. They are part of my soul, and I am part of theirs. If they offer nothing more than that, it is enough.

And it’s never enough. What more can I do? What more can I offer to heal the distance between us? I keep trying until I am exhausted, and exhaustion only makes it feel further away. It makes me doubt that I ever felt anything at all.

But they come back and say they’re still there. They still love me. I smile at them through the fog and say, “Good to see you.”

Finding my Voice

I’m changing it up this week. The subject doesn’t really have much to do with Kemeticism this time.

I’ve been taking testosterone, at low to medium dosages, since the end of last May. The main goal of this was to lower my voice. I used to cringe whenever I heard my voice on a recording. It used to sound very high and soft, like a kid’s voice. I hated doing voice chats because I sounded all wrong. I also don’t do selfies because I don’t really look like myself. The face in the mirror is just the face I was randomly assigned. The name my mother gave me also doesn’t really feel like mine. I would change the name, but I’m not sure what I’d change it to. Shezep works great for online spaces, and usually isn’t taken, but I’d feel weird having it called out at fast food places.

For many years, I thought I was just going to be stuck with what nature had given me. My insurance, while thankfully free to the families of disabled veterans, does not cover transgender care at all. Luckily, a Planned Parenthood clinic reopened in my city after being gone for a number of years. They do offer transgender services at a rate that scales with income. I told them I was genderfluid and wanted to try a lower dose than the higher dose that many FtM’s request, and they gave me no problems about that. I didn’t have to put on a hyper masculine act just to get treatment.

Why the lower dose? For one, I’d been reading about voice quality as it pertains to transitioning. Apparently vocal chords do better when they have more time to adapt to the changes. I didn’t want to go through this only to have a rough voice that has a hard time singing. Being able to sing to my favorite songs was one of the things I was looking forward to doing. So far, that has been working. I have been able to sing to lower songs than I used to, though there are some rough patches in my new range. My dad and my nephew both had/have great singing voices, and though I don’t plan on doing anything professionally there, I still like to sing around the house.

The other reason for the lower dose and the slower approach is that this is uncharted territory for me. They do tell you about the common effects of the hormones, but that doesn’t tell you how it’s going to affect you specifically, or how you’re going to react when the body you’ve had your whole life starts to do something different. I also haven’t really seen a guide sheet that tells me what to expect from different dosages. Which effects are cumulative over time and would slowly catch up to you no matter the dose, and which have a threshold to meet before they start to change? FtM territory is still somewhat new, and low dose nonbinary is even newer. My voice started going down even on the lowest dose, but then hit a plateau where I had to raise the dose to continue.

Keeping records is important, because it’s hard to objectively remember what things were like before.  I’ve been using an android app called Voice Pitch Analyzer to keep track of the changes over time. An app like this can be helpful, but it’s not enough by itself if you want to change your gender presentation. There’s a lot more to it than just pitch. My speaking voice started off between 230-240Hz which is in the upper third of the feminine range. My most recent attempt put me at a 162Hz average which is the top of the masculine range. Keep in mind that while it is possible to train yourself to speak in a higher pitch, as MtF’s do, it is potentially damaging, and near impossible, to try to speak significantly below your natural range. FtM’s pretty much have to rely on hormones to get the pitch to go down. You can train resonance and intonation and behavioral cues, but unless those vocal chords get thicker, they’re going to stay high, and forcing your voice to do something it doesn’t want to do can damage it. (My voice therapist warned against taking random advice from YouTube that could lead to damaging your vocal chords. So be careful out there!)

Luckily, I was recently able to start voice therapy to learn about those other parts. The University here has a speech therapy clinic and I was able to get in for free as a volunteer to give their students someone to practice on. My wife has been going there for over a year now, training in the opposite direction. I’ve only had two sessions so far, and I can tell I have a lot to work on. It’s not so bad saying a sentence or two in the clinic, but remembering to keep up those habits throughout the day is difficult. There’s also the issue that my voice is still in the process of changing. My throat is almost always a little bit scratchy. I’m sure that will settle out once the active growth stage stops. The sound coming out of my mouth does sound different to my own ears, which is strange, but at the same time I wouldn’t want to go back to how it used to be. I don’t sound like a little kid anymore in recordings. My therapist and I both rated my most recent recordings as androgynous. I’d like to get it more solidly masculine sounding if I can, and learn enough to be able to play around with it in either direction.

It’s a work in progress, but I’m excited about the changes so far. In other news, I’m still jumping through hoops trying to get that top surgery funding arranged. I’m hoping the day when I can call in and schedule that is less than a month away. As a side note, fat redistribution and muscle growth is pretty nice too. I’m now more motivated to watch my diet and go to the gym than I used to be.

Energy Channeling

“The living image of Heru receives the light of dawn.” That’s shezep, or shesep, three times if you’re translating. The living image thing applies to open statues, and more specifically to the great sphinx at Giza, sometimes named for Heru and sometimes for Amun.  The shezep version of receive applies specifically to offerings. Open statues receive the energy of offerings, and sometimes that includes sun or starlight. I’ve also found reference to a pharaoh being called a living statue. So, statues don’t necessarily have to be made from stone. However, running that kind of energy through stone might be a lot less trouble.

When my energy started going haywire, about thirteen years ago, I tried looking for answers as to why. I discovered a forum about Kundalini burnout, and though parts of it sounded familiar, this definitely wasn’t traveling up the spine, but instead was centered in my chest and spreading out from there. Among the somewhat spiritually aware people I knew in person, I can’t tell you how many times I was told to ground, or to imagine tree roots. But instead of grounding out the energy, it made it even hotter.

I’ve asked around in the years since, and I haven’t met anyone else with the same thing going on. It shares some characteristics with chi burnout and some with elemental energy vampirism, but vampires usually hate sunlight, and thankfully, I don’t need to steal energy from others. Although Ra does help out if there’s not enough ambient sunlight. Why the huge energy demand? Your guess is as good as mine. They hardly tell me anything. The living statue explanation feels like it makes the most sense.

So maybe it’s a good idea to document what I’ve learned so far in case anyone else finds themselves in a similar situation, surrounded by people who have no idea how to help. Grounding did not work because I wasn’t holding an excess of energy to be drained. I was channeling an excess of energy. We’re not talking about emptying a bucket. We’re talking about managing a fire hose. Anything that speeds the rate of flow, or constricts the hose, will increase the pressure. The problem is that energy responds to consciousness. Just thinking about it can get it more excited.  Tensing up or forcing it to move in any direction will only get in its way.

The best thing to do, when thinking about the problem makes it worse, is to try not to think about it, but even that only helps a little bit. I remember trying to keep my mind focused and calm at all times. I listened to music all the time. I read books. I wore sunglasses to reduce the glare even indoors. I remember going out to eat and pretending that everything was fine while gripping my drink and focusing on the cold to hold back the nausea.

When I lost focus, my mind felt strange, fuzzy and misaligned. I think now it was a symptom of partially being in two places at once. That was as bad as the heat, but in a different way. All that energy was going somewhere, through a hole in my chest where my heart would be. Somewhere in the distance, when the heat filled my body, I could hear someone screaming in the back of my mind. The sound was both hawk and human. It sounded like Heru. It was also Ib, my heart, the other part of my soul. As much as it hurt, we drank up that energy like we were dying of thirst. (Since Ib and I have integrated more, I no longer get the feeling that the energy is leaving to go somewhere else.)

This all happened before I started studying Kemeticsim, in fact it was a major reason why I felt the need to learn about it. Though I was probably born with this–I’d been seasonally affective for as long as I could remember–I knew that Ra had set it in motion. When I asked him about it, he said “The Thunder Being made you strong enough to receive my gift.” I had a few thoughts about him referring to it a gift. At least the initial trial ended after two seemingly endless months. It never got that bad again, but it also hasn’t gone away in the years since.

There appear to be four factors that determine how the experience is going to go. There’s capacity, need, sensitivity, and endurance. When it first started, need was extremely high, and capacity was very low. High energy flow, meeting resistance, created sensations of pressure and heat. The only way to help that was to either reduce flow or reduce resistance. Later on, need wasn’t as high, and my energy channels had been cleared out or stretched to handle more flow. Eventually, on most days, it wasn’t something I thought about unless I’d overdone the energy work and needed to refill.

The third factor, sensitivity, determines when the channel turns on. That one has been increasing. The channeling used to go dormant in the winter, but it didn’t do that this year. Instead of being flooded with more than I can handle, I’ve had to deal with straining to get every drop of it. That hurts too, but in a different way. I’ve compared it to the feeling of not quite getting enough air, or maybe something like a mild headache that you can’t completely ignore.

I make it sound awful, but when the balance is right, the feeling is bliss, like sinking into a warm bath after a long day, or enjoying your favorite meal, or–that other thing I can think of. (Honestly, thinking of that other thing can cause one to relax enough to turn a bad experience around, sometimes, not always. It’s like a spiritual anesthetic.)

Endurance becomes an issue when channeling intensely over a period of time. It can be exhausting, and it does cause some wear and tear on the energy body. Occasionally, I’ll have a morning where I feel worn out before even getting out of bed. When it started up, feeling like I had a sunburn underneath my skin was not uncommon. Even when the channeling feels good, it can still tire me out and leave me feeling a bit strained.

Some days I sleep right through it, and a few times, like last week, it will start up in my sleep and invade my dreams. It’s an almost physical sensation underneath the skin, like that frisson you feel when listening to good music, or when you think you’re falling, which caused me to dream of an airplane suddenly losing altitude. (Luckily we landed safely in the dream.) It happens involuntarily, whether or not I’m thinking about it, even if I’m not consciously aware. The channel works better when I’m half asleep or in a trance, but if the need is great enough, it will try to intrude no matter what I’m doing. Sometimes I give up and decide to take a “nap” and end up tranced out for a few hours. That’s not something my schedule will let me do on a regular basis, and thank goodness it doesn’t happen often.

I have found some things that help here and there. As I said earlier, if you’re burning up, don’t do anything at all. Stay focused and keep calm. For awhile, I was able to use a shield that was modeled after a cloud, but that was only a temporary fix. Since the energy seems necessary, it’s probably not a good idea to rely on that too much anyway. Cloud cover and dust storms do seem to reduce it. I’ve learned to dread cloudy days this past winter, but I was very thankful for the dust storm that gave me a much needed break when this first started. Being indoors and closing the curtains has only a minor effect. Closing my eyes has no effect at all, and can even make it stronger if I fall into a trance or half-sleep. Getting up and walking around to break a trance can help when things get intense, but it’s not something I’m likely to do because of the “need” factor.

When the energy is running higher than I’d like, but not to the point of feeling hot, some chi gung exercises can help tame it down. These are the ones where you carefully and deliberately move the energy through different parts of your body. You tell it where to go and what to do, rather than letting it run wild. It’s like taking a race horse around the track a few times to get it to calm down. Practicing also strengthens your channels and your endurance. I used to compare doing the tai chi form with drinking a cup of tea for a sore throat. It was soothing while I was doing it, but then the problem came back after I was done. (That was with regular Yang style. I wonder if Imperial Yang would have more of a lasting effect? I should get back in the habit again.)

When energy is low, chi gathering becomes important. A quick version of that is to imagine a small sun or a ball of energy in front of you and then guide it into your belly, and then focus on feeling that warmth spread throughout your body. A little sunbathing, though a window when it’s cold outside, is helpful too. Cut back on any energy work you may be doing to conserve what you have.

Asking deities for help can also be a good idea. Aset sometimes helps to cool me down, and Ra can give me a boost when my energy is too low. I can’t depend on them all the time, but they make it easier now and then.

None of these tips will solve the problem completely. They simply help with managing the symptoms. The sun varies greatly with the seasons, and the weather does what it wants.  I keep hoping that someday I’ll learn the secret to balancing this out. But there probably isn’t any secret. It just is what it is.