How did you become involved with your devotional topic?
I stepped outside at sunset, into the thinning heat of September, wary but open. Ma’ahes had asked me to meet Him, but I was more cautious than enthused–I had no idea what He wanted. No god had ever called on me before; I had always been the petitioner.
A sense of intense orange flooded my senses, moving like levitated liquid paint the color of long sunsets. I told Him that I was here, that He was welcome, and invited Him to sit with me on the edge of the patio. When nothing happened, I placed my palms on the stones of the deck and shaped the area–the patio, the horseshoe-shaped house at my back–into the ocean. It had been a while since I had displayed any prowess with energywork, but I had always loved painting my environment to feel different to me.
“If I can do this,” I told Him, “surely You can reach me somehow.”
The hovering orangeness vanished, and with startling abruptness, the part of the world I faced–the part that wasn’t ocean and open sky and briny wind–was brilliantly orange sand, the sky sunset-red. When I could sense it just as easily with open eyes as I could with closed eyes, I grinned.
I asked Him to sit with me again, and when He still didn’t, I shaded my half of the world to shadowy waves and teal-purple skies. We evolved our halves for a little while; mine darkened into a thunderstorm, flickering violet and silver, all my colors and all my Water, staining the back half of me dark river-teal. His sky darkened towards more red, less orange, and then shadows blacked out a long stretch of sand from the horizon to my feet. It took me a few moments to realize that something must be blocking the sunlight for that to happen, and realized that He had appeared, very far away, a lion-man indistinct.
I spoke to Him as He slowly walked towards me, growing more visible; He was orange, that particular opaque sunset-orange, but ember-like, magma-like, shining orange through cracks of blackened stone, a living statue of sunset-lava. I could see Him better than I could see most Unseen entities, especially His leonine face. (I am particularly bad at faces.)
He sat with me, silent, and our halves of the world mellowed, my sea shifting to more an oasis at the edge of His desert. And when the sun was nearly set, He stood and left, walking across the vivid sands the way He’d come.
This was to be the first of many sunset meetings with Ma’ahes.
What’s your relationship with your devotional topic?
From that first enigmatic meeting, Ma’ahes stymied me. Here was a god Who wanted me to come see Him, to include Him in my life… but, at every turn, refused formal offerings. He accepted, gladly, the painting I made of us and our peacock display of color and environments that first evening. But water, incense, food, prayer, devotional activity–refused.
He was, quite simply, just happy to see me.
And I had no idea how to respond to that. Under no circumstances do I think I am special to the gods any more than every single human being is special to them, so why would Ma’ahes just… want to be near? What did He gain? How did I benefit Him? I kept asking, receiving no clear answer. The closest thing to a hint that I got was a reference to my innately Water nature and how it complemented His dry, solar essence.
It took me months before I warmed to Him and responded to His patience, His kindness. He was strength without anger, duty without arrogance, righteousness without bloodlust. Everything I read on Him historically suggested that He would be… more vehement about His role as an Eye of Ra, but the Ma’ahes I got to know was silent, radiant, and gentle. He was wholly unexpected, and He persisted against my constant questioning, my doubt and skepticism, and my expectations.
And when He showed up in my RPD, I felt more relief than I could’ve imagined. This unconditional god would not one day disappear just because I couldn’t figure out what He wanted from me; He would always be a part of my life.
Ma’ahes is a solid, constant, tangible presence when I need soothing or protection. (It is a very different feeling of protection than, say, Serqet, or Sekhmet. Or Nebt-het. Nothing is so terrifying as Nebt-het with knives.) He can hold me without making things worse; He can accompany me when I can’t stand company. I call Him Brother because I love Him and do not fear Him, and because He allows me to be so honored as to be part of His chosen family.