It's been so long since I've done my ritual work from a place that isn't reaching out of pain, a place that resembles some sort of wholeness. (And while the underlying pain and broken parts are there, they are not currently dominating my reality. Which is is a nice damn change.)

It feels so good to light the candle, light the incense, pour out the water, and give thanks. And to laugh for the sheer joy of it, the feeling right and whole and aligned. I can breathe it.

Dua Wesir, Who has sustained me.
Dua Wepwawet, Who has shown me the way.
Dua Set, Who has kicked my ass.
Dua Hetharu, Who has not allowed me to forget love and beauty.
Dua Nimue, Who has never stopped laughing.
Dua Melek Taus, Who has comforted me in solitude.

Nekhtet!

I am pure, my netjer is pure . . . the shopping carts are aligned and the universe is well.


(And you. You know who you are. You get your share of the blame too.)
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From: [identity profile] nadyezhda.livejournal.com


I'm familiar with Melek Taus from a Yezidi perspective. While adhering to Christian beliefs, I think this the Yezidi story is beautiful, and in some ways reminds me a bit of the Christian belief of a benevolent, forgiving God...

I admit my complete ignorance to the Feri belief system! Feel free to enlighten, if you like.
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