Welcome to saga craft myths, fairytales, legends stories, comfort us, inspire us and heal us. Please join us. As we share stories, both old and new than anything, we are open to the story and it’s unfolding at times. It may be one story told by one person at times it’s the same story told through three different voices.
In the end, we go where the story takes us and we invite you to follow. I’m C a writer, artist, and storyteller. I’m Betsy, a medium and teacher of mystery traditions. I’m Gabriella, an artist and practitioner of folk magic. We are magical buried in training tonight. We’re talking about a Anubus, the gatekeeper of the dead in the Japan mythology.
Here’s his story. Would you like to start the prayer then? Okay. I invoke all in only the 100% compassionate and perfect supportive of alignment with the sanctity of sovereignty and success, the very highest blessing protection and wellbeing of us and ours in each moment throughout our lives. If we can keep up with Andre, keeping all others out.
And ask that they be respectfully compassionately, appreciatively, fully, completely, and wholly squirted out at this time. But those of you who I specifically invite, I particularly welcome here to the West, North East, South father, sky, mother earth and grace period. The elements from the mentals, God, the ancestors, all who we love and who love us.
Particularly, I suppose.
Thanks. And if this is family saga who maybe freak, maybe not. That’s a question we can find out another time maybe, but I want to invite the primordial cells. Those beings that really set things in, they themselves were set in motion and then they set things in motion and in motion things still. But I, it does primordial is not only to be here in this session, but to be here in witness of your hand in creation also, and where creation is going with it.
Give, thanks to our time together. I give things to the space of story and saga and space in which the gods can tell their stories through our eyes. I hope those stories carry us, teach us, embrace us and move us forward. And I give great thanks to A, as well as the many other powerful, beautiful gods of Egypt.
And I honor that magic and that land. I also honor all of the people who are our listeners, who may find some sort of inspiration, this story, or some sense of wonder, or be interested in knowing more about Anubus. And may you prosper
many gods of Egypt to live this humans until the early years of adolescence. It was important for us to experience the range of human feelings, fears, and emotions. How else would we be able to interpret or negotiate the fates of mankind and guide them through life, death, and resurrection? At the appropriate time, we would surrender the human life and would take on the Natera God form the time and nature of the surrender was most important for it opened the door to our full embodied power.
When or human life ended and the God would take over the day of mine, the terror initiation, my mother never gathered the appropriate flowers from her garden and ordered the hem, the tear priests to prepare a special bath for me, the top layer of the water was covered with blue Lotus and Cypress flowers.
And the bath chamber air was thick with the intoxicating scent of burning store acts. I saw my mother coming through the incense to air so much like smoke and shadow herself, shifting between steps into her many luminous forms when she was close. And she reached out her arms towards me. She took on her most human forms.
So we could touch at the age of 12. I was still in many ways a human child. So it was natural for me to crave and feel her affection. Her dark Azore tinted. I spearing into mine intently. I could tell by her gaze that this was the last time we could be together in this way. After tonight, I would no longer be a child or a man.
The darkening sky alerted the priest to Quicken their final preparations. They combed and braided my hair, anointed me with oils and secured my sandals there whispered Hinz of in vocation awakening, an ancient power and calling inside me. At times it was difficult to retain my current form as this wild rattle began to rise in my center is still my son hold off a little longer.
My mother whispered, laying her hand on my chest and containing the rising thunder, her ability to enforce such a request still fully at her command. You must enter the desert as a boy. Not a God. She kissed me on both cheeks, lips, and forehead then turned and beckoned to the priest. He is ready, bring his staff and dim the fires at the temple Gates, Neptune petitioned.
Her brother set the great God of storms to calm the desert winds for that Eve, the air was electric with a strange, unusual stillness. The dimmed fires at the temple disappearing quickly behind me leaving nothing to eliminate my path. But darkness did not scare me. And I walked steadily into the night, surrendering to whatever other power waited me out there.
I don’t know or recall how long I walked and it’s not important. What’s important is the moment when I sensed that I was being watched on my journey. Curious, not afraid I sniffed the air for there was no seeing of any kind and whatever creature was near me might be disguised in illusion. The gentle wind carried the scent of Musk earth and decay, a rather pleasant and familiar smell.
I kept walking, knowing that my stalker would be close to my heels. I know you are there. Who are you? I asked response came in the form of a growling. Laughter. You should know you are the one who called to me and have come here to find me a flash of an eye edge of an ear. Quick touch a fur on my skin.
The Jackal and he has allowed himself to be seen. He circled around me, intimately, close his warmth and sent, blurring my senses. I wanted to fight him to hold him, to devour him or be devoured by him altogether more than anything has presence awakening, the same vibrating storm deep inside, which was brought on earlier by the priest and vocations at the temple.
Only this time, it was much more powerful and I could not contain it. The Jackal smelled me through my shroud assessing my level of anxiousness testing. My courage can you, it was not him. I feared, but the descending madness of me beginning to lose control over my body occurrence inside my veins like rivers, quickening, the flow of my blood, which now moved in waves strong enough to knock me onto the ground where I’d hoped for brief moment.
The laws of gravity would keep me together a little longer gravity, no match for this power. And the change continued flashes of light superior to beneath my skin. Yeah, rising like Hara glyphs with a fiery urge, blending my flesh into the night, lighter and brighter. I became fighting the urge to dissolve as my body shifted from one dimension to another, I reached for the Jackal, hoping his firmness would help you maintain my shape.
He was my shelter, my witness, my initiator, and I knew, and to the very depths of my soul, that he would not abandoned me to this moment. This form. So dark, so vast, no looming over me, Deming the blinding brightness, soothing my spirit against the crescendo of exploding fires. As I focus on his head. Massive, perfect sharp against the illuminated night.
I remember him. And more importantly, I remember his name, which was my only salvation weapon. I cried out my voice, right. An eight, a deeply warping, the shape of color and air around me. I have arrived. He answered with his mouth close to mine, but who are you? That calls to me. I felt the last layers of my head, physical self dissolved now, and through this dissolution, I could see my name.
I could hear it, but I fared out with this loss of form. My voice would no longer be able to carry it forward. And yet I had to, I had to gather all that remained or I would be lost forever with the tumbling speed lights and strange symbol swirling within me. I drew what was most likely my last breath.
And with this breath, I delivered my name and myself, my breath carried me out of the formless lights and into the open mouth of weapon, sweat, which became a deep, long tunnel. Cool and comforting place. I felt I could stay forever, but I could not. I had to keep going and I had to carry my name in this darkness without a body, without sight.
Without words, only consciousness. I don’t know how long I traveled. I traveled until my consciousness became sound and I could see again, I was once again, standing much taller than, and I was before and much changed. I picked up my staff from the coal ground. Suddenly many eyes appeared all around emerging into beings from the velvet night, the great Natero and their embodied animal powers and shapes.
So many of them. Some of them. I felt, I knew others were not familiar, but they all had the same question who comes before us with their most profound certainty. I replied, I am Anubus guardian at the Gates illuminator of pathways, protector of the loss finder of forgotten names. Awesome.
My story is about how Anubus came into being. My name is Anubus. I’m one of the older gods of Egypt. It’s easy to tell that because my head is of a Jackal and my body is of the man of all of my senses. It is scent that has always captivated me, possibly because of my Jackal nose. The associations that I have with particular sense, focused me in passionately, or pull me into memories, memories.
The first memory Maria that I have is one that is not really my own. I’m not sure why I have it. The centers of flowers and of longing. The memory belongs to my mother, the divine up this, the centers of blue Lotus and other flowers that are just a breath away from smelling like rot, all of which have been woven into a head dress, a Garland as lovely in its colors.
As in its scent, it had been woven with the Royal insignia of the God of Cyrus who would shortly become my father. Added to the Garland was a small in conspicuous cone of soft bees, wax imbued with scented oils from night blooming flowers grown in my mother’s medicinal garden. The scent was cloying complex, glam, burring, and Ambrosia.
She hadn’t Oh. Cyrus to a party. The Garland was a party favor, an offer, and given to the guests. This Garland was designed for a Cyrus and was unique. The party I heard was well attended by divinities and near divinities the inclusion of near divinities augers. Well for a successful party, they’ll dress up painted and Bejeweled, happy to gather with the elder and more powerful family members, hopeful that power or patronage might spill in their direction.
These brightly rubbed guests reflected the path that evolution was taking most were completely human inform while others had the heads of birds. Reptiles are animals. When I think about the timing of the party, I can see the careful preparation that mother put into the plan. Her magic is often created in layers.
My mother not. This is a master Alchemist herbalist and made her herbal blends. Can sire dynasties inspire warriors, direct the dead to their proper destinations this night. She planned to sexually ensnare with Cyrus, her elder brother and her sister’s husband. Her glamorous oils have been prepared over a series of years.
So patient was she in her planning? So strong. Was she in her lungs? My aunt, the actual wife of my father was a way in the South attending a festival in her honor. She was always a little stiff at parties and was just as happy to attend a business. My mother’s husband, my stepfather said was also a way on one of his endless war campaigns.
Keith thrives in that kind of chaos. Nope. This had long since stopped accompanying him on these journeys, preferring to stay at home with her guardians and her friends in quiet contemplation of the stars and tending to her elixirs, their marriage had pre childless and barren. This was a great sadness for her one, that she was willing to take drastic steps to change.
She believed that if chaos magic couldn’t produce a child life magic could. Her longing for a child, made her a little reckless. I’d heard my granny Newt saying once when she thought I was asleep, she had no idea what her actions were going to create along with a child magic plays out along its own course.
It’s one of the first things we learn, but it’s easy to forget to explain, brings up another remembered. Scent, that of mud bright new water, marshes, and slime. This was the center of the primordial mound arising from the waters of creation from this was the beginning of my family and of humankind out of the sun came my granny Newt and knew the first beings, three more pairs of divinities Rose from the sun, their appearance match.
The scent for these pairs had the heads of frogs. If they were male or snakes, if female. The males, these primordial males held the code for a transformation in a direction predetermined through time itself. The females were the undifferentiated power that fueled the transformations. That’s my mother undifferentiated power, the paired with new in creation.
My grandmother knew it looked for a concert and found gab the land itself just as she was the night sky. My Godfather’s shoe provided the space between for them to find each other, to bring their potentiality into creation and to the births of five children, five gods and goddesses, the Cyrus Isis said Nepthsys and horse.
The elder I’m so grateful that new to this is my grandmother. The other female primordial is in there made seem to be focused in an endless, in somewhat tiring dynamism. By mating outside the pattern nudes and gab created the tryout of family out of that. My grandmother and my mother know how to come to rest.
Newt’s actions spawn, not just her children, but the patterns that humanity would later embody a Cyrus is a great father. He’s a gentle God interested in teaching and learning. He was particularly focused on growing things, especially plants. His explorations in agriculture and brewing were passed onto humans.
He spent time helping humans to become better. More noble, more Cyrus was supported in this by his loving wife, Isis. They had a great marriage spending most of their time together. Nice. This was a pretty straight arrow, very focused on doing what was right. What was expected. Actually, she created what was expected.
She was all about being civilized. So Cyrus attended the party put on by my mother as a very special guest there. He found that he could be inspired to cut loose. The party had the usual musicians, acrobats, dancing, girls and boys, and lovely maidens who would beat tidbits to you while you reclined the heat of the oil lamps, the bodies, the sensuous night air, the food, all conspired to melt that cone of wax on his head, dripping sensuously into his long black hair, intoxicating him good wine and plentiful beer flowed.
He enjoyed himself getting a really good buzz. In the late hour of the night, while the bit tipsy, he found himself in the arms of his wife, Isis not questioning her return, but simply letting himself be pulled into her embrace glamored into perceiving Isis. He was seduced into a night of ecstasy by my mother, the tiny part of his awareness registered that Isis was subtly different.
After all sex with the same person over a long period of time can become a bit routine, but he just went with it. Well, that’s how I came into being somehow later, the Garland exposed the deception, but no one will ever tell me the details of that. Maybe the details got lost because of what unintentionally happened.
My mother nup, this is a goddess of putrefaction and decay. My father of Cyrus was a God of life before hooking up with my mother. He was deathless. Once he consorted with Neptune, he was pulled into the realm of death. My mother never stopped grieving about this. No longer being deathless made him vulnerable to set is equal and opposite.
He ended up being abducted, dismembered and destroyed by my stepfather. He could be reassembled. But never could he actually live? So he became the Lord of the underworld of death and of resurrection. My great aunties. The primordial is prone to talking about destinies, shook their heads knowingly and said it was all meant to be not this didn’t take it that way.
Seeing what her actions did to her brother meant she grieved through my whole gestation wailing. She rejected me at birth. After all that she abandoned me to die. Exposed. Stallone is a new born in the wilderness. That remembered scent is a bitter aloes bloody after birth stone and grief. Isis was angry and betrayed being hurt.
She dealt with it and it was she who found me. Rather than leave me to die. She took me as her own son and I got to be raised with my father until he disappeared. I will be loyal unto eternity to them. I have long since understood and forgiven Nepsis as a God of the underworld and of embalming. Are you spells magic and incense taught to be my birth mother.
I do it in support of my father. In the course of my work with the dead, I have seen the complex family situations of the deceased worry about as they prepare for judgment. I suspect our dynastic family squabbles became one of the patterns that imprinted on humanity. Well, some things are good and some things are not as good, but in life and the hereafter, you have to take the bad with the good.
That was lovely. No feel doubly inappropriate, but here I go.
Why is listening to one parent talk about having sex with the other so revolting. I thought I would be cool with it. I’m sex positive. I can talk about anything. I’m the gatekeeper for the dead. I look at atrocious sins for a living, but no. I never want to think about my parents having sex. It’s disgusting.
I’ve heard the stories. Of course, first from my aunt Isis, when I was a tween and she’s worried that it was Cyrus who might call uncle dad, might’ve been cheating on her. She trusted him, but was worried that in his significant lust, he might be duped again. Of course between his exposure only to the recently deceased and her possession of the necessary organ.
This isn’t going to happen. She really just needed to talk about the sadness and jealousy that she felt when my mom, her sister, no, this disguised herself as anti-racist in order to seduce uncle, dad, he wasn’t sad and jealous of the sex. Of course, aside from Hara whose real motives are around respect and honoring commitment.
Immortals are generally not concerned with fidelity. Monogamy is only valuable as a sacrifice of time and experience for the sanctity of intimate depth and fulfillment. When you literally have all the time in the world and can create limitless, depth and fulfillment. It’s not so much a sacrifice as pointless deprivation.
And as deity is, we do have obligations to our single worshipers. Plus how jealous can you really be of your sister having sex with your brother? Anyway, the point is she was sad and jealous about potential children or in mom’s case me, she had always wanted a child, but uncle dad, Oh, Cyrus was hesitant.
He hadn’t had a series of dreams that led him to believe that he wouldn’t live long enough to raise one. He didn’t want to leave. And I say this as a single parent, it’s a lot of work and she already has so much on her plate with her career. She had told him that if push came to shove, she’d be honored to raise his child.
She didn’t really believe he would die. He’s an immortal and the God of fertility and agriculture. Clearly he will always come back to figured that he was just spending too much time watching the fields and had started to identify with the crows or the crops. Or the crows and the crops, he always had such mixed feelings about sending the birds away hungry.
So mom’s pregnancy felt unfair to antithesis as goddess of the night, unconscious and beer mom was fully within her domain to simply get uncle dad rip-roaring drunk and Isis on the other hand, as goddess of consciousness, enlightenment and positive role modeling. There was no way inebriated seduction fit nicely into her online profile.
And dad, sorry. Set was furious. Just kidding. Mom wanted him to be furious at having to raise another man’s child, but actually he didn’t care at all. As a dad who specialized in confusion, it was an act of worship to him. He got that energetic boon. It’s like eating for us, but I won’t go into that now.
Yeah. I mean, set was thrilled. It’s not what mom wanted, but that’s what mom got. And maybe that, and the unconscious thing played a role into that. Yeah. Promotion. You probably heard the story. There was a bit big family to do and dead set had a beautiful, yeah. Casket made, especially for uncle dad, Cyrus. He made a big deal of giving it to her Everett fit.
Lots of people tried it on. I know what you’re thinking here. But bear in mind that our parties went on for days, everyone had been drinking, like it was a full time job with random spontaneous napping for at least 72 hours and truth. Be told chemistry, can’t hold a candle to our herbs. It’s like people forget that drugs are made of natural substances.
Just abuse the inhabitants of your garden long enough for them to valve vengeance through unpleasant side effects and congratulations, you had converted and admittedly sometimes fell tasting herbs into a pricey drug. To my mind, anal leakage is a high price to pay for avoiding bitterness. Just eat some honey to be fair.
There are a few exceptions and some of them are brilliant. Nothing is black and white except black and white. So that eventually convinced uncle Ben to get into the coffin. The moment he did that, slammed the lid shut, grabbed the box and took off earning himself the title of God, of chaos, which he very much preferred to his earlier moniker.
Hyper-focusing workaholic, magician God, with a sense of humor, antisense was pissed. She screamed and nearly incoherent lecture on brotherly love for a good 20 minutes past the point where dad could actually hear her. Then the crows came bearing bits of well, uncle, dad, most people were still pretty drunk.
So the birds had to call it out. Oh, Cyrus. Before people picked up that this was their gift, the gift of Oh Cyrus. But once they did get it, there was turmoil. And Isis grabbed her person, followed the trail, picking up the pieces without a thought to the condition of her favorite handbag. Mom took off after her, trying to figure out what the proper etiquette is.
When apologizing to your sister for your husband, brother, your brother-in-law brother with whom you are additionally in love. Eventually she decided to say nothing and just gather parts. The two of them wandered the whole Valley, collecting uncle dead. In the end, they found 42 pieces and reassessed 41 of them.
So that uncle dad could get his promotion and go rule the underworld. And I just kept the 42nd piece. She says, it’s the answer to life, the universe and everything. Thanks to the, what she calls. Number 42, 10 months later, she gave birth to my half brother, cousin, Horace people say Horace of industrial Cyrus by taking back the throne.
But honestly, but you should, and King are very different. Dad really just wanted to get back to his spell craft, triple entendres and in jokes. It also averted politically awkward problem of which of us or Sri to know work with uncle dad in the underworld with Horace was King. I just naturally slid into my job assisting uncle dad without contest.
Well, some people yelled nepotism, but you’ve probably already picked up on the idea that we have pretty different cultural idea about appropriate family values. So the other day, I’m here doing my job as gatekeeper and the uncle dad’s underworld domain. When one of my mom’s worshiper shows up with a shirt of grief struck through her heart.
Matt tells me her story deal is so close to balance that I should ask around. So others can weigh in. We’d hate to let Ahmed eat an innocent person. Plus he’s super cranky. You wake him besides between politics and pandemics, he’s really been putting on weight. I asked the moral, if there’s anyone she’d like me to speak to about her life.
And she tells me to call mom, mom and I hug each other and catch up for a few minutes, then mom notices her follower and screams. She jumps up and rips the shirt from the mortals heart for a moment I’m relieved. I’m it can go on snorting in the corner, but then mom starts talking. No. She screams to the woman.
My erotic grief was never yours to bear cast off the burden of my lust, Rose Cyrus, the memories of him taking me, entering me as a snake into the river. I can’t go on, but she did. She went on and on and on. It was horrible. My God may have a gatekeeper. I’m in a mortal being who determines the fate of the dying, but never, ever, ever went to hear about my parents, having sex Ahmed.
And I have agreed on a hand signal from now on whenever one of my parent’s followers arrive, I’m waking him in advance and he’s going to stand guard sort of thing so much as in a conjugal relationship between my mom and uncle dad, he can do his culinary magic while I cover my ears. I thought I could talk about here about anything and I can anything, but that was brilliant.
Wow. Very fun. I was so good.
I mean, again, I’m struck by how tied together they are, how. One interlaces with the other, but through very different viewpoints, I actually really liked that we had several tweens too. Clearly we all have in the same age. I don’t think that I’ve never read anything about the age, which I thought was funny.
Yeah. I thought that they were all. That together. They all had a, an element that bound them together because mine wasn’t really funny. Somehow there’s something in Betsey’s that made it somehow possible into being funny, maybe, but not really. And then CS was hilarious, but embellished and embraced all the other elements.
So, well, I just, I love it. I love all of them, all of them together. I felt so irreverent, like your guys are so beautiful. And so Reverend to them, I was like, Oh, it was amazing. Yours was so there’s so much in yours that really needed to be said, because we are looking at the stories from a perspective of, of what it would be like to be there.
And it would be really weird. It would be amazing. And it would be. Extraordinary. Initiatory all those things. And in other ways, hilarious, I do feel as though my story is the bridge between both of your stories, still a little bit reigned in, but let loose in C’s version to home. It was very lovely and I loved the magic of the transformation of Anubus in his initiation.
I would imagine it would be something really, really difficult. And the only way for that to happen would be from having human experiences, having, having form, and then not having formed or a different form altogether. And like in every story, the representation of each of the gods is similar yet different.
And that’s very true. Even when he talked to people about the story of Memphis, nicest, many people will just straight up and say, I really don’t like , you know, I really don’t like set. I’m always surprised by this because I love them all. But it’s interesting to have that awareness even going into the story and then observing what God would being shows, what face, what aspect of themselves and this interpretation or that.
Both of yours. I love the beauty of the transformation and moving through, I love how a Anubus is sent was the carrier yes. Mentioned by you. And by me, I mean, when you spoke of the blue Lotus and the different aromas is really thinking, Oh yeah. That Jackal knows that Jackal knows exactly.
I love the party. I love the party in Betsy story and C story because it just really transported me to that realm of intimate, cation and illusion, and being able to just go with those moments, knowing that they’re bigger moment moments than they appear. And the, that those types of things, the parties, the paths of evolution, those were part of what imprint on humanity.
So for us as humanity, the family kinds of situations that people find themselves in the connection with intoxicating substances. What it’s like to really party the connections that people find themselves drawn into and longing for those came from the gods, but they’re all too human now. I’m not quite sure what it is, so I’m hesitant to talk, but I really love the way that it demonstrates how a moment can change forever.
Like it happens all the time, but we rarely stop and reflect on how one little decision and the whole world has changed for the rest of the time and how powerful that is and what a weighty responsibility it can be as well as how incredibly fun it can be. Both of them and how confusing that is, at least for me.
Absolutely. And see, I absolutely love your. Your connection to the plant world here in this story. So much of it is funny and light and, and not dramatic, but there’s a certain element of, of drama, India, experience of Anubus yet the real magic of alchemy and mystery and life are all in there. You have captured the ball through the heat humor and through observation is this lens of.
Seeing the unseen as it’s emerging into being it’s beautiful. It just felt like a Anubus as an invalid. This is clearly also an herbalist. He really has that connection to the earth and composition and the beauty that grows from it and how they work together. Yeah. I love how in Betsy story. His first memory is of his, of his becoming into being that he tells the story of him coming into being through his own memory.
That’s not his, but as received. Well, it is his, but it’s transmitted through another person. I thought that was a really interesting way to present it really great way to present it. Thank you. Yeah, I agree. That’s very awesome and beautiful. I found it so fascinating to be with a new business again, I mean, it’s with each character, with each being that we have the opportunity to spend time with us, they literally spin their story or tell their story to us.
It was fascinating to feel that connection to sense, which I enjoy it in my own garden. And. Also the lack of judgment around the way particular sense might be that something might smell like rot, but still have its place and have its own kind of beauty in that kind of way as well. That was really quite interesting.
Well, and scent being the seat of memory sent being the strongest Invoker of memory. More than hearing sight. All of those scent can, and it doesn’t go away. You can smell a scent. You haven’t smelled in decades and know exactly what it is, where you smelled it and remember everything from that moment. So in a way, scent captures the moment and encapsulates it for all eternity.
And with your stories, see, talking about the herbs, becoming drugs or intoxicants. The sense that I had too was the scent can be shared as a memory from one person to another. Then the experience or the UN or the there’s a transmission that occurs when the gods experienced something out of a particular level, that experience gets transmitted to us.
If we’re anywhere nearby, able to take a whiff of it. And I loved the way that your story brought that forward. So thank you. I loved that in yours as well. When you were talking about how they suspected, how. You suspected that Netflix was not really Isis immediately. I thought it was the scent. Like she perhaps could disguise everything else, but she couldn’t discuss her scent, but he went with it.
Yeah, sure. Yeah. I just love the feeling of the primordial chortling in the back. It’s just all meant to be. Micromanaging reality can be dangerous, but I love the, I know from being feeling like the bridge story between your story is I love the reverence and the power of Gabriela’s story of his transformation into being that truer version of himself.
Whether we call him a, a God, a divinity, a dainty, but truly Anubus. As a tween with see story, you know, to hear that voice of his and to get those. Yeah. We can all be like that. Yeah. Able to step into our majesty and our power, um, being completely unnerved by things that might be happening within our family sphere, but still able to be inspired to serve our true purpose in some kind of way.
So that I’ll be taking that into the week with me and thinking about that. Thank you both. It’s beautiful and such a contrast, but yet a weaving together. I totally agree. I loved all, I’d love the deep reverence in Gabriela’s telling, and I loved the details and the intrigue and Betsey’s filling. And clearly I enjoyed the ridiculousness of my going, but I feel like that’s actually what I’ll be looking at this week.
How every moment has potential, you know, for each of those, they’re all present in every moment and we get to two. How to respond or what part of it to engage. That’s beautiful. I’m really grateful for both of your stories and for the weaving of them together, which has always seems so important. I think, and I’ll be taking with me and to this week is an always, I think this is something that I’ll always think of is.
With family, it’s always complicated. And to truly become who we are, who we are meant to be. Sometimes we have to step outside of the family. Into uncharted territory and to a place where we are recognized by a whole new level of observers. And it’s what we carry through our lineage through our family, regardless of where we came from.
It’s that what remains in our name and our truth that really matters. And sometimes it’s our willingness to do it. And leaving everything behind that brings us into where we need to be. So I will be looking at that as what that would mean to be retained, that what needs to be remembered and like an every good story or like many good stories.
It’s the person that breaks the vowel. It’s the person that breaks takes out of the bonds of what was, what was decided. Into a true destiny of themselves. That’s where things can really start beautifully said. And it strikes me that sometimes the parents that play a limiting role for us actually are playing the role that we need for us to be able to find the edge.
Or to be held in something that makes even feels confining sometimes that we have to move through and break out of in some kind of way. Yeah. I felt that very strongly in my storage is that sense of. Nope. This felt real grief that the transformation that was wrought with a Cyrus, but the, you know, the generation before her, we’re just seeing it as, yeah, this is part of the continuum.
This is what’s going on. And you’re all playing your role just as Isis steps in and steps up and nip. This is feeling that. Those tears that are often associated with her that are really part of that chemical process. There is that grief. When people change out of a role that they’ve been in for a long period of time, and we lose that version of them, parents can feel that way as their children step up into a new version, some parents may be able to support them others not, but.
For us, if we really look around and see these beings that are in closely within the sphere around us, they’re all playing the role we need for us to be able to step forward and be who we are. And that I really found in his story so clearly. And in all of our versions of it, I loved that all the different voices of it.
So thank you. That was super fun. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you, Anubus hail Anubus and thank you. It was Cyrus Nepsis Isis, and all the people at the party. Absolutely
special. Thanks to the fantastic Zoe Magik for her phenomenal editing skills.