Two weeks ago, I returned to the mountains of Nevada for the first time I moved almost two years ago… and for the first time since I met the Netjeru Who would be divined my Mother: Nebt-het.
My Mother is quiet and more subtle than any of the other gods of my divined family. While I’ve drawn incredibly close with my Beloveds, Ma’ahes and Serqet, and while I have a lot of indirect interaction with my Mama Hethert-Nut through my love of space and all my creative hobbies, Nebt-het and I remain much less… talkative.
On Christmas Day, white misty clouds rolled in over the gorgeous Nevada mountains and brought with them the snow that I have pined for since leaving for Texas. I stood outside, in socks and a flannel overshirt, and watched the mountains disappear and the first snowflakes begin falling.
It was cold, and still, and shushed-quiet, though I could hear the happy burble of my rowdy extended family inside the house behind me. Everything was calm and greyscale and absolutely, perfectly beautiful.
And I realized… this was Her. This was my Mother; this was Nebt-het. This greyness, this chill, this solemn quietude, these tiny white pieces of the sky drifting downwards, this half-light between day and night. This was Her peace, the soothing touch of cool hands that help the living transition from life.
I started Wiccan, and there’s enough of that left in me that I find it no stretch at all to link the death-stage of the Wheel of the Year, winter’s cold hibernation, to the death of individuals passing from warm and vibrant life to the Otherworld, and thus to the goddess Who facilitates that transition and Who comforts those left behind. She is, after all, married to Set, the god of all storms– including even blizzards. It is not so hard to believe that a Netjeru of Egypt could be linked to snow in the Nevada desert.
Standing in the cold, my nose and feet gone numb, my hair dusted white, I was surrounded by my Mother’s presence, and quietly overjoyed.