Chapter 2 Meeting Horus
MUSEE DE PARIS
I saw you and I loved you
Loved you then
While time took me
And stood me still before you--
And though the ages stopped for your coming
My love continued
And I wept with the joy of it
For the ecstasy
An eternal gaze looks out upon a crowd of people who glance through digital lens, impotently capturing a scene before moving on, oblivious to the essence that watches. Later, in review, they will come across him, hands outstretched, and they may wonder how they ever missed the offering. Some will feel an inexplicable sadness, a wonder or a sense of disquiet for the intangible niggling that comes over them when looking back upon his image. Others may simply pass by the photograph as they did him; one image among hundreds. One or two will admire the bronze work and its antiquity, for certainly, he is to be admired. But none who merely walked by will have known the life within their quarry. So it was, on this day, when in the Louvre, customarily filled with school children and tourists awed and intrigued, delighted and excitedly chattering and giggling, a press of mobile and digital devices in hand, I stood in the silence that I was enshrouded in with the great bronze statue.
A close voice spoke. I looked around, extending my hearing. Those nearest me were children with their parents, speaking French. Others further along the museum corridor, were commenting in Italian. A young couple walking arm in arm passed by me, pulling each other in opposite directions, entering another hallway of Egyptian antiquities. They laughed in hushed tones and I detected their Spanish whispers. No one about me was speaking English and yet the voice had been unmistakable. I was about to shake it off as imagination, when quite unbelievably I heard as clear as day, a resounding: ‘I see you’.
Turning full circle, I saw that I was alone. The voice, seemingly male, had a quality to it that I couldn’t define. My heart began to pound. Clearly, someone was nearby, but I couldn’t see them. As I turned back, I cast my gaze upon the large bronze statue a metre or so in front of me. Some ten feet tall and positioned on a block of solid granite marble base, the statue suddenly felt quite imposing. The temptation to reach out and touch the black metal was magnetic, but I took a step back to take in its full height. Looking up into hollowed eyes that seemed to stare down upon me, something shifted in the air, and there it was again: ‘I see you’.
I spun around to confront my taunter but found that the closest person was four or five metres away. I stood puzzled. Separated now from nearby visitors, I ventured to look again at the statue. No sooner had I rested my sight upon the ridges of the hollowed metal that signalled the bird’s eyes, than the voice came again: ‘Yes. I see you’. I’m not too proud to say that I felt a sudden, nauseous panic rise up as I realised that I had not heard the words. They had not been external sounds. Rather, the words had been spoken within me, directly to my thoughts. Venturing another look into the statue’s eyes, I looked left and right to determine that I was still alone, before speaking aloud: ‘You’? And that ever so close voice breathed into my mind, ‘Yes’.
It became then as if I was viewing the room and the statue from a great distance. Mesmerised by the bronze half man, half bird, as strange as it seems, I felt a life within it; a life speaking to me.
Now, it’s not for one minute that I think the bronze statue actually spoke to me. I don’t think the matter of that ancient granite transmuted to form words. I do believe that my attachment to the Horus and to the energetic residue of thousands of years of worship and devotion, helped facilitate a vibrational shift in myself that advanced a psychic opening already being nurtured through meditation. In this way, Spirit was able to make contact with me. And you’ll have already guessed that the vibration I was resonating in that moment was elevated feelings of awe, joy and love. That ecstatic love that can come through faith, music, dance, any creative expression really, which brings one’s frequency to such heights as to be available to the higher frequencies of Spirit and beings in the spirit realms. I now understand that the statue was a vehicle of connection that allowed for Spirit communication. At the time, it was all I could do not to run screaming from the building.
‘Look’, the voice intoned within me. And, as if that word acted as a stimulus, my mind was filled with images. At the same time I experienced a motion similar to that of take-off in an aeroplane. I saw then moving pictures of what I can only describe as Ancient Egypt only the scenes had none of the erosion or age of today. Hundreds of people, whom I can now identify as acolytes stood at the base of a pyramid shaped temple. I couldn’t say then how I knew the building was a temple, but I knew with certainty that it was. The pyramid was rich in colour, not the mottled sand many of them appear now. It sparkled in the sunlight, a rich array of white stone, an outer casing to its inner clay. Upon the top level of steps of three tiers, stood a small group of people in which a white robed male stood in the middle. What struck me most was that to the left of the man I immediately recognised as a priest, stood the very same giant bronze statue. Only here, it was magnificently bejewelled, standing fierce and proud and humble at once. Horus, the Sun God.
I felt my chest fill with love, and an excitement aligned with the throng of the expectant crowd. I could feel the power of the priest, and the essence that seemed to connect him with the statue and the flame held between the mighty Horus’ hands. A wide thread of energy passed from the statue to the priest, appearing as a heat haze. I knew that most of the people looking on could not see this connection. The priest was speaking to the crowd and behind him six robed men and women now stood in a semi-circle around him. I could hear his words but could not understand the language. The people gathered were captivated. There was a sense of expectation, excitement and awe. I could detect a tiny thread of apprehension here and there, but it was the kind of discomfort that might be felt before embarking on some courageous feat. The overriding feeling mirrored my own. Reverence. Adoration for something one perceives as conveying more than oneself. I wondered momentarily if this is what a Catholic devotee experiences when gathered in St Peter’s Basilica listening to the Pope. These people felt eager, as if they were about to embark on a journey.
I shifted my focus from the temple members to the man at the centre of everyone’s attention, simultaneously becoming aware that the priest was looking at me. As the thought ‘Is he looking at me?’ began to form within, incongruously, the man’s left eyebrow rise slightly, as if he had heard my incomplete query. Curious now I held his gaze as another voice, different to the earlier one but again in clear English, said, ‘Soon’. The shock I felt at apparently being spoken to by this figment of time, brought a smile to the priest’s eyes so that it was this sparkling light that remained with me as the vision withdrew.
All of this happened within a heartbeat, and I became self-conscious of standing stupefied in the great hall of the French museum. I admit to feeling a little dazed. The noise of the museum, with large groups of children approaching, was too much. A well of water leaked from my eyes, tears expressing the love that continued to fill me despite the cacophony of noise that now threatened my inner silence. I took a step back and looked again at the statue, feeling a wave of affection. I experienced such an intimate moment then; the sort shared between the closest of people, and did not give a thought to the fact that this was a statue of bronze, not a person. In that moment no one existed but him and he was every bit alive, every bit aware and fully tangible. Four thousand years old, standing tall, no longer bejewelled, bronze now black, stepping forward, arms out to meet me.
The flame he once held had long since disappeared, but I knew that it was a flame I now held in my heart. I couldn’t have explained it then, knowing only an inexplicable love. Through this statue I had experienced what many seek and never know, a sacred love; a love beyond the individual. And for the first time in my life, I felt understood. I felt truly seen and known, and accepted. I felt loved for who I was, and I knew, beyond all rational knowing, that I would now share my life with this being; with this ancient hawk headed God, this Horus.