“My soul fervently calls out for Her;
She hears my voice,
longing and desperate,
And She comes to me;
Her lotus hands cradle my face,
Like a feather against the cheek,
A tender kiss between the brows;
Mut, my merry-faced love,
My very heart lives for you.
I am happy.”
— Seshen
MUT
I had always been drawn to the masculine side of the spectrum when it came to Gods—for reasons why I have none—so it was surprising that the figure I would find at the head of the Gods (and my temple) would be none other than Mut, the Great Mother.
Despite how strongly Mut has come through for me for a long time, in the tradition of Kemetic Orthodoxy, my divined mother is specifically Bast-Mut. Such a specific shape that I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it for a while, especially with how I receive Mut now. I’m still piecing it all together to be sure, but I have developed an understanding that my Bast-Mut is the feline Mut that is cooled by the waters of the Isheru lakes. She is complex and beautiful; a very specific form, but still my Mut.
One of my first interactions with my Mut was through Bast-Mut and long before I was even a Remetj-en-Kemet. I was Hellenic and feeling lost at the time because it didn’t feel quite right for me. Like I was wearing my shoes the wrong way; left on right and right on left. I couldn’t quite put my finger on what was missing. Around that time, her name flooded into my head and I couldn’t get rid of it. Try as I might, and I really did try, it was no use. She wanted me to follow her and, despite my fear of the unknown and my complacency about my ill-fitting shoes, something in my soul recognised her, and I knew I had to grasp onto the hem of her cloth and let her lead me somewhere new. I trusted her, and I trust her still.
Mut is the every-mans Goddess. She is versatile and all-consuming, there’s not a role she cannot fulfill. Queen in the Heavens, Head of the Gods, Mother of All, Self-created One, Who is her own Parent and Child, Who comes to the voice of the one who cries out for her, She who dispels darkness.
She has many beautiful epithets and yet I feel that even they cannot fully express just how magnificent she is.
When I think of my Mut, I know that there are none before her for me. She is who I feel most devoted to, most beloved by. I could want for nothing because I have my Mut; my everything. To gaze at her face is to get lost in her depths; the Nun itself is within her and without her.
I don’t need to look further than my Mistress. In her eyes and in the delicately curved corners of her smile, that’s where I live.
— Seshen
Through The Reeds 