Friday, 26 July 2013. The Poem of Imru al-Qays- The Nasib. The Nasib- or first part of the poem. Stop, oh my friends, let us pause to weep over the remembrance of my beloved. Here was her abode on the edge of the sandy desert between Dakhool and Howmal. The traces of her encampment are not wholly obliterated even now. The courtyards and enclosures of the old home have become desolate;.

Blog on Canaanite religion, spirituality, history, and culture. Wednesday, 19 March 2014. Asherah is the consort of El. Sunday, 16 March 2014. He is portrayed as an old man with white hair and beard.

Give praise to Thoth;. Make rejoicing to Him every day. He Who gives breath to the weary-hearted one. And vindicates you against your enemies. Book of the Dead or Going Forth by Day.

Η τριμερής θρησκεία των Ελλήνων.

Scribe in the House of Life. Lake Nasser at Abu Simbel. Lake Nasser at Abu Simbel. Friday, 25 April 2014. New posts now at hannahpethen. The Sphinx, with the pyramid of Khufu behind. Friday, 11 April 2014.

Sex, Drugs and Pigs. Welcome to the island of Circe. The Soul of the Rose. Originally posted on Nefertem and Co. To weep, to smile, the two are indistinguishable. Photograph by Benson Kua, Wikimedia Commons.

Northern Tamarisk Exploring mythology, history, Paganism and complememtary therapies to find new ways to connect with the Gods and Goddesses. Exploring mythology, history, Paganism and complememtary therapies to find new ways to connect with the Gods and Goddesses. Posted in Gods and Goddesses. Posted in Gods and Goddesses.

Musing of an Isiac and Dionysian Pagan. As I sit here penning yet another belated post, I recall what I was doing this time last year. By this time last year I was back in Sydney lamenting the end of the holiday period for me, and preparing to go back to work.

Rewilding and Ecofeminism and The Reclamation of Magic. Because once upon a time all food was wild and it was the women who gathered it. Rewilding and Ecofeminism and The Reclamation of Magic. When a Witch Is Burned.

A Storm Runs Under This Skin. At the edge I dwell. In the shadow of gods. The skin of my mortality. The alchemical cracking of flesh. I lash into the wind. The Old Gods do not slumber. They ebb and flow around us. Surging through our very veins. Inundating us with their primordialness. Our destines they ignite outside of time.