Clouded Leopard by Mark Dumont on Flickr.
Always a good time
HYMN OF HOREMHEB TO THOTHGranodiorite statue of the righteous and glorious Horemheb seated in scribal pose with a papyrus on his lap; dated to the reign of King TutankhAmon, when Horemheb was the Commander of the Army at Memphis, before becoming the King of the Two Lands; now in the Metropolitan Museum.The Hymn is carved on the scroll of the statue:
Adoration of Thoth, Son of Re, Moon, He of beautiful rising, Lord of appearings, Light of the Gods,
By the Prince, Count, Fan-bearer on the King’s right, Great Troop-commander, Royal Scribe, Horemheb, whose word is right and true.
He says:Hail to You, Moon, Thoth,
Bull in Khemenu-Hermopolis, dweller in Hesret,
Who makes way for the Gods!
Who knows the secrets,
Who records their expression,
Who distinguishes one speech from another,
Who is judge of everyone.
Keen-faced in the Ship-of-millions (the sacred boat of Re),
Courier of mankind,
Who knows a man by his utterance,
Who makes the deed rise against the doer.
Who contents Re,
Advises the Sole Lord (Re),
Lets Him know whatever happens;
At dawn He summons in Heaven,
And forgets not yesterday’s report.He who makes safe the Solar night-bark,
Makes tranquil the Solar day-bark,
With arms outstretched in the bow of the ship.
Pure-faced when He takes the stern-rope,
As the day-bark rejoices in the night-bark’s joy,
At the Feast of Crossing the Sky.
He Who fells the fiend (the cursed Apophis, the enemy of the Gods),
Sunders western lightland.
The Ennead in the night-bark worships Thoth,
They say to Him:‘Hail, Son of Re,
Praised of Re, Whom the Gods applaud!’They repeat what Your Ka (the spirit and the life-force) wishes,
As You make way for the place of the bark,
As You act against that fiend:
You cut off his head, You break his ba (the soul),
You cast his corpse in the fire,
You are the God Who slaughters him,
Nothing is done without Your knowing,
Great one, son of a Great One, Who came from Her limbs,
Champion of Horakhty,Wise friend in Heliopolis,
He Who makes the place of the Gods,
Who knows the Mysteries,
Who expounds Their words.Let us give praise to Thoth,
Straight plummet in the scales,
Who repulses unrighteousness,
Who accepts him who leans not on crime.
The Tjati (the Prime Minister) Who settles cases,
Who changes turmoil to peace;
The scribe of the mat Who keeps the book,
Who punishes crime,
Who accepts the submissive!
Who is sound of arm,
Wise among the Ennead,
Who relates what was forgotten.
Counselor to him who errs,
Who remembers the fleeting moment,
Who reports the hour of night,
Whose words endure forever,
Who enters the Duat (the Netherworld),
Who knows Those in it,
And records them in the list.
never forget how we are living
I can’t explain how much I love this.
goosebumps
I don’t really read newspapers, magazines, or watch TV. I listen to NPR and sometimes watch C-SPAN. I read a lot of books. In all genres. I think for myself. I also buy used and out of print and old books, and write stories, essays, poetry, and journalistic critiques.
The scary thing here, to me, is not the facts presented: but that so few people are aware of the facts presented. And also the worrisome likelihood that, knowing these fasts, the population in general would continue to defy the average intelligence level by failing to grasp the meaning of the facts. Not to mention failing to whole-heartedly care about what these facts intrinsically represent and mean.
Nothing can wear you out like caring about people
“One day I decided to try to have a complete day without tea , and I was quite shaken. I was quite disturbed.” – Morrissey
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