The Elder Scrolls – Reman

Apotheosis in Tamriel is not limited to Talos, who was Tiber Septim before becoming one of the Nine.  Indeed, Reman Cyrodiil, now called the Worldly God, was known before Ysmir: first as the greatest hero of the Akaviri Invasion of the First Era, and then as the ruler of the Second Empire.  Under his dynasty, the Empire conquered all the kingdoms of Tamriel save for Morrowind…and it was Morrowind, and the Morag Tong, that led to his demise.

(Interestingly, Cyrodiil is not named for Reman as many believe.  Instead, he took Cyrod, the ancient Ayleid name of the heartlands, as his surname.)

There is no obvious cult of Reman these days, but he was worshiped alongside Talos as a conquerer-god, and there is documentation to support this worship dating from as late as the first century of the Third Era.  His rise to godhood stems from the heroic acts of his life – in addition to routing the Akaviri, who called him Dragonborn and swore their loyalty, Reman created the rites associated with ascension to Emperor and is credited with the creation of the Amulet of Kings.  Scholars disagree on whether Reman held or was held by the Amulet, but it none can contest that the process of becoming Emperor is his.

When we look at the cultural god-kings of a prior civilization, it is useful to examine the qualities they embody.  Reman, like so many other deified beings, was a hero who freed Cyrodiil from an invading force and brought prosperity to its people…from the Imperial point of view, anyway.  This raises the question of similarity between practices for the cult of Reman and others – the archaic and classical hero-cults of Greece, for example, or the imperial cults of Rome – and I feel confident in saying that those who desire to worship Reman in such a way will do so with the Worldly God’s blessing.  However, I prefer to think of the qualities not specifically mentioned that nevertheless would have been crucial to his success, and to base my approach to him on those very things.

As an example, consider that Reman is said to have convinced the Akaviri to support him in the founding of the Empire, and the actions documented by historians appear to bear that out.  His powers of persuasion were significant, and the ability to sway others to my cause, to cause them to focus on what I want to accomplish, is something that I use in my work each day.  It should be no wonder, then, that I look to Reman to strengthen my ability to persuade others that what I ask of them is both reasonable and desirable.

(For any who consider me cold for admitting these things, look to the nature of corporate America and understand that the channels I go through to implement processes and programs require this type of action.  I am good at my job.)

For ideas on how to incorporate the worship of Reman into your personal practice, I recommend looking to modern worship of other deified mortals such as Heracles, or Gaius Julius Caesar.

Empathy for the House of Netjer

Last night, I saw a series of blog posts from members of the House of Netjer (HoN) noting that they are currently in financial difficulties and asking for community support.  The posts serve as a reminder to anyone who forgets that religious organizations are as reliant on financial assistant as individuals, and that tangible resources are necessary for an organism to survive and thrive.

This post is not a call to donate to HoN, although that community needs some support.  It is, instead, a statement of the empathy I feel for its members, for those who believe wholeheartedly in the community and its work, for those who follow its teachings, for those who do senut, and who celebrate festivals according to the Kemetic Orthodox calendar.  For those who believe, and support others in that belief.  For the onion hoers, and the priests.  For those who are hem(t)-netjer.

For those who Trust.  I empathize most with you.

I am Kemetic.  I hold fast to the idea that community must be developed and nurtured and perpetuated.  I hold to the concept of ma’at and that it must be developed and nurtured and perpetuated, lest isfet infest and unmake.  And, I hold to the idea that in ma’at there is community, and in community there is ma’at and that I have a responsibility to Speak in order to continue and improve.

I am not always good at subtle; the first of the Names that came to me was Sekhmet and she is very good at ma’at at any cost.  I am becoming better at this, although parts of me still long for subtlety, to work things out one-on-one, and to address those I believe have forgotten ma’at in private rather than in public.

But the time for that has passed.  It is time for me to Speak Up, to say publicly what I tried to say privately:

The recent actions of the Nisut tell me that the HoN no longer has a head.

To be the God-King, especially in diaspora where no larger civil structures are in place, is not to be a titular head, or a leader in Name only.  In a community where Words Mean Things, where language is heka and heka is language, calling oneself the Nisut implies certain actions…and those actions are not occurring.  Worse yet, to my mind, there has been no owning up to this as far as I can see, save for some throwaway comments at a recent Pagan Event about it being assumed that her attendance at the World Conference of Religions some years ago was related to Kemeticism, followed by a laugh.

Well, yes.

When one is the self-professed leader of a Kemetic organization, when one claims to have been crowned by the gods and given the kingly ka, it is expected that one wear that mantle seriously.  To represent oneself as a leader in another faith while retaining the title of Nisut; to hold a discussion about Kemetic beliefs in a conference suite reserved for a Sosyete; to run from the role one claims to hold to another is shameful.

You, Tamara Siuda, should be ashamed of yourself.

How dare you call yourself their Nisut and not nourish them?  How dare you not open the granaries, and how dare you reduce the community you built – and now seemingly ignore – to the point of begging assistance from the pagan community at large?

For the sake of those who were once your people (and are now something else entirely), I hope your abdication comes soon.

Cloverleaf and Roundabout

Like last year, this year I got to Paganicon via a road-trip, and while I didn’t happen to see The Rider on my journey, I did unravel a piece of the web that I’ve been staring at for what feels like ages but has probably been around six months.

But I should probably back up a bit, and explain a couple of things before diving down the hole in front of me and urging you to follow, shouldn’t I?

2015 was a horrible year for many people, and for me it was filled with family tensions, work tensions, and religious community tensions that eventually drove me to leave the place I considered my religious home for six years.  And, after all that, came the time of No Computers, and I was driven to seeking out those I wanted to stay close to via Google Hangouts from my work laptop in between doing the things that comprise my day job, which is heavy on pointless meetings with people I don’t want to hear, much less see.

(Okay – done with the self-pity now.  I swear.)

At the time of the upheaval (last October, or therabouts), I was staring at a problem I’d been tasked to address – the untangling of a particular set of threads in the Web in front of me.  Staring wasn’t getting me anywhere, and I couldn’t figure out where I need to start, and then things blew up and I put the task aside where it sat.

And sat.

And sat, until I was smacked in the head by a not-so-velvet paw and reminded that the tangle was still there.  And, that I hadn’t said “No” when I was asked to deal with it.  And that it was going to stay right there until I figured it out.

I like to put my gods in the category of “tough but fair”, but they don’t always like to stay in that category.  This time, though, everyone took on that label, and everyone reminded me that there was a THING that needed DOING, over and over again until I finally decided to get off my ass and look at it again.  Which, I did.  I looked at it.  I walked around it, and looked at it from a number of angles, and tugged on a few things, and pushed a few more, and then sat down and stared at it again.

And then, I took a 21 hour (round trip) road-trip with my sister, and we talked the whole way.  Sometimes it was serious, and sometimes it was silly, and sometimes it would have made no sense at all to anyone listening in, but it was in the talking on the way there, and in Paganicon itself, and in the further talking on the way home that I figured it out and the threads unwound themselves as prettily as anyone could hope to see…and now they’re connecting just as they should.

It took two things, really: the realization that I am very very good at asking questions, and that the sigil I created in Thorn’s workshop is meant to remind me to Speak Up.  And once I connected those two things everything else fell neatly into place.  I am not meant to be a Hammer – I am meant to be a Lever.  I am meant to move things from passive to active.  What once I called a cul-de-sac, a parking lot, where we stop and wait and try to figure out which way to go is now a cloverleaf, or a roundabout, with exits that are there.   We’re just waking up and wondering where we are, how we got here, and why we’re in a hand-basket.

This, then, is the Introduction.

The Elder Scrolls – Peryite

Often viewed as the weakest of the Daedric Princes despite often appearing as a dragon, Peryite oversees the lower planes of Oblivion and keeps order among the low-ranking daedra.  Men and mer know him as the Lord of Pestilence and the Taskmaster, and his spheres of influence cover both those things along with “natural order”.

Peryite is known as having impacting most of the mortals of Nirn, albeit indirectly, since many plagues and pestilences originate with him.  In addition, the “natural order” of Peryite and his followers appears to differ from the “order” imposed by Jyggalag, and also from “order” as mortals understand it.  This leads me to steer away from talking about the concept of “natural order” in this particular post, and more toward what I consider the inherent duality of Peryite.

I am often fascinated with duality (those who know me are thinking, “Really???  I had NO idea.”), and Peryite pleases me in that one overseeing pestilence is also one who can remove it.  The Disease and the Cure, if you will; one hand gives, and the other takes away.  In truth, Peryite’s followers are often afflicted with one disease or another and consider their condition to be a gift rather than a curse…which leads me down a mental path of wondering about wallowing in the Wretched to find the Divine.

I am a Kemetic, and a FlameKeeper, and also working on mindfulness practice – in all of these, the idea that one must recognize and acknowledge reality is key.  Couple this with the tenet, from FlameKeeping, that everything is Divine (you, me, the tree, the rock, and my left shoe) and things begin to get interesting – reality is Divine.  And if reality is Divine, then those things that exist within reality are Divine by default.  This belief must be held by the followers of Peryite, or else why worship the Taskmaster in the first place?  And if held by them, this pinpoints something we have in common, for I am hard pressed to think of anything that is not Divine.

(Actions are, of course, another story.)

For those looking to worship Peryite, incense is a traditional offering (and there is a traditional type that is nigh impossible to make outside of Tamriel).  I suspect, though, that the Lord of Pestilence might be pleased with an acknowledgement of the pitfalls we all face, how they fit into the larger the Divine, and Peryite’s place in that scheme.

The Elder Scrolls – Orkey

Orkey, the “Old Knocker” is an adversarial god of the Nordic pantheon, and his worship is recorded as having started during the Aldmeri rule of Atmora.  At that time, it is said that the Atmorans had lifespans as long as the elves and that it was a bargain with Orkey that tied their lives to “the count of winters”.  It is further stated that Orkey actually summoned Alduin the World Eater to devour the lifespans of the Atmorans, and it took an intervention from the ghost of Shor and the life of King Wulfharth to save them.

In my post about Fox, I mentioned that it is likely that this symbol is meant to represent Orkey, and I also stated that Orkey deserved his own post.  He does, and as I’m becoming more interested in the concept of the adversary I thought I could explore him in that vein.

What is an adversary?  Well, strictly defined (because words mean things) an adversary is “one’s opponent in a contest, conflict, or dispute”.  It has a negative connotation, and many people think of the word in that manner, but anyone can be (and is) an adversary at one point or another.  If I take an opposing position to my friend on an issue, or compete against them in a contest, I am an adversary.   If I routinely disagree with someone, our relationship is adversarial.

However: I can, and do, have adversarial relationships that aren’t necessarily negative.  Disagreement and opposition are opportunities for growth and change, and as I believe stagnancy should be avoided, I actively seek out such opportunities.  This means I routinely run into people who take on the role of my adversary…but that doesn’t mean that I dislike those people or wish them to be destroyed (except sometimes).  In fact, in a recent discussion on The Cauldron there were several people who took up an adversarial position to my own and I (mostly) think I benefited and learned from those exchanges.

(That thread is here, if anyone is interested experiencing its glory.)

In a religious sense, the idea of the adversary is often conflated with evil.  In Christianity, for example, Satan is given the epithet of “The Adversary” and is painted to be the epitome of evil, and as not too few modern polytheists were actually brought up with this mindset, it spills over into other mythos as well.  Both of my primary deities, Sekhmet and Set, take on the role of the adversary in the Kemetic mythos and there are a great number of people who are hesitant to approach them because of it.  Neb.y Set is especially associated with evil by non-Kemetics and has been for millennia, as can be seen in his Greco-Egyptian association with Typhon.  And yet, the inhabitants of Ancient Egypt knew that the adversarial role did not directly equate with evil and that Set as adversary was necessary to uphold ma’at.

In thinking about Orkey as a Set-type adversary, I think he can be associated with more than trickery and mortality – as Set is god of the Other, so can Orkey be associated with Other and Foreign things, things that go against the traditional grain and upset the applecart, as it were.  To worship Orkey, then, is to acknowledge the parts of us that long not to follow the crowd, to be independent thinkers, and put our thoughts into practice.  To worship Orkey, or any adversary, is to revere individuality and personal freedoms.

The Elder Scrolls – Owl

I’ve noted previously that the Ancient Nords, during the rule of the Dragon Priests, worshiped nine animal gods – six shown as male, and three as female.  The Owl is said to represent Jhunal, Nordic god of wisdom and knowledge, and the creator of mathematics and language.

Owl mural – Ancient Nord

Interestingly enough, Jhunal appears to have fallen out of favor at some point; he is absent from the modern Nordic pantheon, replaced by Julianos of the Nine (Eight) Divines.  Jhunal is also barely mentioned in written record, aside from a brief description in Varieties of Faith in the Empire, though Vivec does mention him in Sermon Three as one of the eight known worlds.

Unlike many of the supposed “same god, many names” examples that I’ve mentioned in other Elder Scrolls-based posts, Jhunal being Julianos makes a great deal of sense to me: both are hermetic gods, both have the same bailiwick, and Julianos appears just as Jhunal disappears.   Add in the fact that the Nords are quite loyal to their gods and reluctant (mostly) to replace them with Imperial stand-ins, and it makes me wonder if this is a case of the Imperials borrowing from the Nords instead of the other way around.

I’m fond of tying things together, and categorizing them, and so it should surprise no one that I went looking for owls in Ancient Egypt and, of course, found them.  The owl is found in hieroglyphs, specifically as the letter m (Gardiner sign G-17: owl-in-profile ), and is one of the uniliteral signs.  Despite Gardiner calling this owl an ‘Eagle Owl’, the lack of tufts make me think it is a Barn Owl, and Newberry’s article “The Owls in Ancient Egypt” backs me up on this, as do the images below:

Barn owl

Pharaoh eagle owl

While I’ve mentioned that I have no intention of adding Julianos to my personal pantheon, I can’t help but think of the owl as his symbol, and the fact that I am sure that Julianos is a deity in service to ma’at makes me think that some worship of him, and some representation of him, wouldn’t go amiss…but I’ll have to ponder that further.  For now, though, Owl as the Ancient Nords used it stands strong as a representation of language, mathematics, wisdom, and magic, and can be used by modern pagans in that vein.

The Elder Scrolls – Namira

Deep within the Scuttling Void dwells Namira, the Lady of Decay.

Namira is not as well known as some of the other Daedric Princes.  She (for she presents as female) is the Spirit Daedra, ruler of sundry dark and scuttling spirits and doesn’t have the popularity of Azura, for example, or the gregariousness of Meridia.  Her followers tend to keep to themselves, or gather only in small groups, and she prefers them to be repulsive, as is evidenced by some of her epithets: Mistress of Decay, Devourer of the Dead, and the Great Darkness.

The most well-known story of Namira dates from the First Era, and is about a prince who met and saved a wanderer who turned out to be Namira.  When he realized this, he followed her for 33 days and nights, begging at her feet to be her apprentice; when this period was over, Namira said the apprenticeship was over and granted him three blessings:

  • Disease – the prince could have any disease with visible symptoms, but he must always have one
  • Pity – the prince became a wretched beggar, but all who saw him would be moved to pity
  • Disregard – the prince could make himself unnoticed and people would unknowingly say things, including important secrets, in his hearing

These blessings made the prince renowned among the beggars, and Namira remains associated with beggars to this day.

In addition to beggars, most cannibals in Tamriel consider Namira to be their patron, and she is associated with all manner of “creepy crawly” – spiders, insects, and slugs to name just a few.

Believing, as I do, that seeing both sides of the coin leads to gaining the entire perspective on something, I am fond of the idea of Namira and that the wretched and repulsive has a champion in her.  I have no personal experience with her, though, and so I cannot say if that fondness would translate if I were in her presence.

(I suspect that I’d hit the floor and grovel if it ever occurred).

Rather than turning to cannibalism, I suggest that those who wish to connect with Namira cultivate a place for the repulsive to dwell and spend time in communion in that place.  For example, flat stones could be placed on the ground and insects, worms, and other creatures encouraged to live beneath them, and then the stones turned over from time to time to contemplate the mini-habitat beneath.

Of course, if that’s too much, you could always volunteer to help the downtrodden.