We can all agree that the Egyptian Stele is a fascinating piece of art, with its enigmatic riddles and tales. Here, we read a precise description of this beautiful art, with thanks to Marie Grilott and Marc Chartier. 💖🙏

The image at the top; via School_Egyptian_-(MeisterDrucke-1029804)

A lovely little stele presented by Mariette at the Universal Exhibition of 1867 in Paris

via égyptophile & Égypte-actualités

Inaugurated on April 1, 1867, the Universal Exhibition in Paris closed its doors on October 31 after welcoming more than 11 million visitors!

It was sometimes up to three hours of waiting before being able to enter the Egyptian pavilion created by Auguste Mariette. A temple had been reconstructed, and he had brought from the Boulaq museum: “samples of Egyptian art at its main periods”.

This is how emblematic pieces made the trip to the French capital, such as the statues of Sheikh el-Beled, Ranefer, Queen “Ameneritis”.… or the jewels of Queen Ah-hotep, not to mention mummies to unwrap.

More “confidential” pieces were present in number, testimonies of the diversity of pharaonic art and this magnificent little wooden stele which charms at first sight.

27.6 cm high, wide. 23 cm and 2.7 cm thick, dated to the XXII Dynasty (approx. 900 BC), it is dedicated to Lady Djedamonioufankh.

If the circumstances of its discovery remain determined, the origin generally indicated is Deir el-Bahari, but also, more rarely, “Thebes” or “Gournah”. Two references are attributed to it, RT 25.12.24.20 and 3365.

It is curved in shape because, as Auguste Mariette points out: “Until the XIth dynasty, the stelae are quadrangular… But from the XIth dynasty, the stele takes the form that is only abandoned on rare occasions. It is rounded from above as if intended to recall the curvature of the sky or the sarcophagi lids.”

The great Egyptologist presents it as follows in the “Catalogue of the 1867 Exhibition”: “Pretty painted stele. A light stucco applied to the wood has been painted in swathes of colours, which gives the painting the dazzling appearance of gouache. “

If it is true that the chromatic palette, particularly rich and harmonious, seduces us, the registers that are declined there, totally different, attract us. They prove that the artist knew – or wanted – to bring the world of the beyond and the terrestrial world closer together.

Mariette sheds this “general” light on the symbolic design of the steles: “The top of the stele is supposed to be lost in the sky. As we descend downwards, we approach the earth. In other words, the stele is divided into three zones.

The upper part of the hanger is thus deciphered by Jean-Pierre Corteggiani (“Egypt of the Pharaohs in the Cairo Museum”): “A curved sky supported by two wa-sceptres resting on the earth; a winged solar disk surmounts the five short columns of a funerary formula intended to provide offerings and provisions to the lady.”

And, as if to create symmetry, two jackals, as if lying on the hieroglyphic inscription, surround an orange vase placed in the very centre, just under the sun.

The central part, which occupies most of the stele, is “devoted” to two characters, standing on either side of a table of offerings, all standing out against a subtle blue background.

In the “Official Catalog of the Cairo Museum”, Mohamed Saleh and Hourig Sourouzian describe this: “As for the main painting, it represents a scene of traditional adoration. The dedicatee of the stele, dressed in a fully transparent pleated dress adorned with a necklace and a long tripartite wig surmounted by a cone of perfume, raises her delicate hands in front of Re-Harakhty. The falcon-headed god is crowned with the solar disc surrounded by a uraeus; he holds the sceptre -ouas and the symbol of life.”

Dame Djedamonioufankh, with her light dress and arms raised in adoration, faces a Re-Harakhty with black flesh who, adorned with his attributes, displays his strength, power and divine power…

Between them is set up a table of offerings laden with food, bread, grapes, meat, poultry, and vegetables. A caring hand has placed delicate lotus flowers there. On each side of the foot of the table, there is an elongated container, orange in colour, placed on a black tripod support, as well as lettuces nicely connected by a vegetable garland.

In the “Guide to the Boulaq Museum”, Gaston Maspero interprets the scene: “Lady Zodamen-Efônkh comes to claim from Harmakhis her share of the sacrifices made to her by her parents.”

As for the lower part of the stele, its design touches us for two main reasons. First of all, because it is an extremely rare scene in the iconography of the stelae, and also because, if it is not the presence of the mourner, the landscape which is reproduced “speaks to us” and that we can almost place it today, in the necropolises of Thebes.

The scene is declined in a rectangular format delimited, at the top and bottom, by two black and thick lines. On the left, the Theban mountain, treated in ochre-red dotted with streaks and white dots (reflecting the sand, rocks and gullies), descends gently towards the wooded plain. Disregarding the perspective and the scale of the figured motifs, the whole is undeniably charming!

Many Egyptologists have looked into this scene, commenting on it in a very beautiful way.

“There is, in fact, a very rare representation of the necropolis; on the left, the tomb, preceded by a pylon surmounted by two pyramidions, is built on the edge of cultivated land on the first sandy undulations of the desert; on the middle, a kneeling woman laments in the usual attitude of mourners, one hand raised above her head; on the right, a table of offerings is set up next to a basin, in the shade of a sycamore and two date palms; it is the funerary garden of which several texts speak, and in which the deceased wishes his soul to return in the form of a bird, to walk along the edge of the basin, to rest on the branches of the trees, or cool off under the sycamore”: such is the reading of Jean-Pierre Corteggiani.

In the “Official Catalog of the Egyptian Museum in Cairo”, one can read: “We see there for the first time a scene of the necropolis where there is no question either of processions or of theories of bearers of offerings. In solitude from the desert, the slope of the cliff where the tomb is dug has been painted pink with white highlights. The highest of which, with cupolas adorned with a coved cornice, rise in the necropolis in front of the tomb. A crouching woman mourns her dead while tearing her hair. Behind her, a sycamore, two palm trees and date palms evoke the garden from which the ‘ba’ of the deceased hopes for shade, freshness and water. The offering table laden with bread and a water basin is indeed at the foot of these trees.”

As for Gaston Maspero, in the “Guide to the Boulaq Museum”, he formulates this interpretation: “The mountain, painted yellow striped with red, covers the field on the left: two small doors surmounted by pyramidions mark the tomb of the lady Zodamen -Efônkh A kneeling woman laments and tears her hair as a sign of mourning: trees, drawn behind her, represent the funerary garden, where the soul will come to frolic and nourish itself at the laden table waiting for it. offerings.”

And finally, here is Auguste Mariette’s analysis, an analysis which certainly motivated his choice to present it in Paris: “The bottom of the monument is occupied by a small composition worth noting. On the right, between the acacias and the date palms that line the edge of the cultivated land, an offering table laden with funerary gifts has been placed. To the left, the tomb of Lady T’at-Amen-aouf-ankh rises on the edge of the desert. A pylon surmounted preceded by two pyramidions; a little further on is the aedicule, which covers the actual tomb. In the centre, a relative of the deceased is kneeling, bareheaded, in the posture of mourners.”

Marie Grillot

Sources:

Auguste Mariette, Universal Exhibition of 1867, Description of the Egyptian Park, 1867
https://scholarship.rice.edu/jsp/xml/1911/9292/229/MarParc.te#index-div6-N1363A
Auguste Mariette, Album of the Boulaq Museum, Mourès, Cairo, 1872
http://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b8626090c/f1.image.r=auguste+mariette.langFR
Gaston Maspero, Visitor’s Guide to the Boulaq Museum, 1883
http://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/bpt6k141741b.r=gaston+maspero.langFR
Egypt of the Pharaohs in the Cairo Museum, Hachette Paris, 1986
Mohamed Saleh, Hourig Sourouzian, Official Catalog of the Egyptian Museum in Cairo, Verlag Philippe, von Zabern, 1997
Francesco Tiradritti, Treasures of Egypt – The Wonders of the Egyptian Museum in Cairo, Gründ, 1999
National Geographic, The Treasures of Ancient Egypt at the Egyptian Museum in Cairo, 2002

Some time ago, I wrote about this topic in three parts (1– 2- 3), and now I dare to continue this as I hit back into Jung’s essential explanations about this issue and its effects on our lives, from the family to the society.
In this part, he compares the Orientals and the Occidentals and the latter’s difficulties in differentiating between their own persona and their own Anima. Or, better to say, to understand and accept the existence of a personal form of the Anima in us all and our private lives.

First of all, let me say that the fact is that to understand Jung, one has to take a tour outside the solar system and, after returning, reread his works! But I promise, and as you know, his explorations in psychological self-knowledge are worth reading. However, in this explanation, he considers the subject in our everyday life. We see how useful it can be for us in everyday family life.

He explains himself much better here:

I believe there is a need for certain modern humans to recognize not only their differences from the persona but also from the Anima. Since our consciousness mainly flashes outwards – corresponding to the Western style – the inner things lie in the dark. But this difficulty can easily be overcome by trying to look with the same concentration and criticism at the psychic material that does not appear outside but only in private life. Being accustomed to modestly concealing this other side (perhaps even trembling before his own wife, she might expose him) and, when discovered, ruefully confessing his “weakness”, the only method of education is usually to recognize the weaknesses suppressed or repressed as much as possible, or at least hidden from the public. But nothing has been achieved with this.

What we actually have to do is probably best explained using the example of the persona. Everything is visible and apparent there, while with the Anima, everything is dark for us Westerners. When the Anima thwarts the good intentions of consciousness to a greater extent, inducing a private life that contrasts ill with the glamorous persona, it is the same as when a naïve person who is ignorant of the persona is in the most embarrassing world encounters difficulties. There are those people who have no developed persona – “Canadians who don’t know Europe’s whitewashed politeness” – who grope from one social “gaffe” to another, perfectly harmless and innocent, soulful bores or affected children or – if they’re women – Cassandra ghosts feared for their tactlessness, eternally misunderstood, who do not know what they are doing and therefore always assume forgiveness; who do not see the world but only dream it. These are the cases where we can see how a neglected persona works and what one would have to do to remedy the evil. Such people can only avoid disappointments and sufferings of all kinds, scenes and violence by learning how to determine the world. They must learn to understand what the partnership expects of them; they must see that there are factors and persons in the world far superior to them; they need to know that what they are doing means to others and so on. This, of course, is the syllabus of a toddler school for one who has properly formed his persona. But if we turn the stalk, and that of the man possessing a brilliant persona, confronts the Anima and brings in for comparison the man without the persona, we shall see that this one is as well informed as to the Anima and its affairs as that one is about the world. The use that both make out of their knowledge can, of course, be an abuse., and most likely, it will be.

Of course, the man with the persona does not understand the point of view of the existence of inner realities in the least, any more than the other does the reality of the world, which for him has only the value of an amusing or fantastic playground. But the fact of inner realities and their unconditional recognition is, of course, the Conditio sine qua non for taking the anima problem seriously. If the outside world is just a phantasm to me, how can I make any serious effort to set up a complicated system of relationships and adjustments to it? Likewise, the “nothing but fantasy” standpoint will never cause me to take my anima manifestations for anything other than silly weaknesses. But if I take the position that the world is outside and inside, that reality belongs to the outside as well as to the inside. Logically, I must also regard the disturbances and inconveniences that occur to me from within as a symptom of a defective adjustment to the conditions of the inner world to comprehend. Just as the thrashing that the harmless get in the world cannot be healed by moral repression, neither does it help to book one’s weaknesses as such resignedly. Here are reasons, intentions and consequences in which a will and an understanding can intervene. Take, for example, that “spotless” gentleman and public benefactor whose wives and children fear his short temper and explosive moodiness. What does Anima do in this case?

We can see it immediately if we let things take their natural course: wife and children will move away from him; a vacuum will form around him. At first, he will lament the callousness of his family and possibly behave even worse than before. That will make the distance absolute. If all good spirits do not desert him, he will notice his isolation after a while, and in his loneliness, he will begin to understand what caused the separation. He may ask himself in astonishment: <what kind of demon has fallen into me? <- Of course, without noticing the meaning of this metaphor. This is followed by regret, reconciliation, oblivion and soon a new explosion. Apparently, the Anima is trying to force a separation. Of course, this tendency is in nobody’s interest. The Anima pushes in between like a jealous lover who wants to alienate the man from his family. An office or other advantageous social position can do the same, but we understand the power of attraction there. But where does the Anima derive this power to exert such an attraction? According to the analogy with the persona, there should be values or other important and influential things like seductive promises behind them. In such moments, one must beware of rationalizations. It would seem natural to think that the man of honour is looking for another woman. This can be, or can even be arranged by the Anima as the most effective means to purpose. Such an arrangement should not be misunderstood as a purpose because the spotless man of honour who has married correctly according to the law can also divorce according to the law, which does not change his basic attitude one iota. The old picture just got a new frame……. to be continued. 🙏💖🖖

It is really bizarre that I feel like I’ve been absent from WP for years, even though I haven’t been gone for long. I might be a sensitive and unprofessional writer, but I couldn’t bear such stress and lost my muse.
I have a lot of professional writer friends, and they might do it easily, as the Persian proverb goes, “like drinking a glass of water.” However for me, I need a peaceful environment without any distractions to write, and walking around helps me expand my mind. Honestly, my thoughts flow more easily in my head than when I try to write them down. Anyhow, I need a bit of time to search for my muse. At least, I am happy that the construction process has come to an end, and I can gather my scattered thoughts together for the next period.

Now, allow me to share a poem by Pablo Neruda as I settle into my spot. 💖🙏

Wind On The Island

By Pablo Neruda

The wind is a horse:
hear how he runs
through the sea, through the sky.

He wants to take me: listen
how he roves the world
to take me far away.

Hide me in your arms
just for this night,
while the rain breaks against the sea and earth,

in its innumerable mouth.

Listen how the wind
calls to me galloping
to take me far away.

With your brow on my brow
with your mouth on my mouth
our bodies tied
to the love that consumes us
let the wind pass
and not take me away.

Let the wind rush
crowned with foam,
let it call to me and seek me
galloping in the shadows,
while I

sunk beneath your big eyes,
just for this night
shall rest, my love.

Image at top: Vasko Taskovski

After overcoming some challenges and obstacles, I’m excited to return to my routine and begin by sharing a post on Egypt. I’m grateful for the support of the British Museum and my close friends, Marie Grilott and Marc Chartier.

Wooden Funerary Stele of Deniuenkhonsu

Deniuenkhonsou wears a long, imposing wig adorned with a floral garland, a perfume cone and a lotus flower. Her ample pleated dress is transparent enough to reveal the folds of flesh on her stomach and hips as well as her rather plump thighs. Deniuenkhonsu worships a falcon-headed god named Ra-Horakhty-Atum, a composite god or synthesis of the main sun gods. His attributes confirm the inclusive character of this figure: in addition to the sun disk surrounded by a cobra on his head and the “ankh” sign in one hand, he holds a crozier and a flail, generally associated with Osiris and the sceptre, which he holds in his other hand is crowned with the feather of Ma’at and another “ankh”. Solar imagery dominates the arch of the stele. Under a blue border representing the sky, the winged solar disk, supported by the scarab, rises from its nocturnal journeys to the underworld, symbolized by the two figures of the jackal god, Anubis. Offerings include lotuses; plucked and gutted poultry; a bowl of grapes (?); round, decorated loaves of bread; under the table, two mounted lettuces and a pot of beer put on a stand and rolled up with a lotus stem. The lower edge of the stele consists of a reddish band bordered by a row of tiny green plants. Since red and pink were used to represent desert land, unlike the black land of the Nile Valley, it must represent a strip of desert dotted with plants.

This stele was made for a woman named Deniuenkhonsou, a musician of Amun and the wife of Ankhkhonsu.

In painted sycamore wood, this stele is 33 cm high, 27 cm wide and 4 cm thick; its weight is 1.302 kg. Dated to the Third Intermediate Period, it could come from Thebes. ; it was acquired by the British Museum in 1896.

SOURCES: Notice and information from the British Museum

The little + of Egyptophile:
Auguste Mariette specifies, “Until the XIth dynasty, the stelae are quadrangular… But from the XIth dynasty, the stele takes the form it no longer abandons except on rare occasions. It is rounded by en high as if intended to recall the curvature of the sky or that of the sarcophagi lids.”
He also sheds this “general” light on the symbolic design of the steles: “The top of the stele is supposed to be lost in the sky. As we descend downwards, we approach the earth. In other words, the stele is divided into three zones.”

The Lovely Wooden Female Figure

Depicted in the pure style of the late 18th and early 19th Dynasties, this woman wears a long ceremonial wig that wraps around her shoulders. Each chunky lock is crimped, individually braided and tied at the tip. Two shorter locks frame her face. Her large tiara is gold, rendered here in yellow paint. The lotus flower that adorns her forehead, the stems of which seem to cross above her head at the back of the ribbon, was probably “artificial” unless it was an integral part of the tiara. Her dress is a large rectangular piece of linen, pleated and transparent, wrapped around her body with a fringed edge on the front. Another pan is brought over the left shoulder and arm, and a knot on the right under the chest holds the whole thing in place. The woman’s left foot is missing, but – unusually – her two accessories have been preserved. She holds a lotus flower in her dangling right hand and a bouquet of flowers, skilfully “stacked” in her left.

This painted wooden statuette, dating from the beginning of the 19th dynasty, is 33 cm high. Its ancient provenance is unknown. It was part of Robert Hay’s collection and entered the British Museum in 1868.

SOURCES: Notice and information from the British Museum

The little + of Egyptophile:
Robert Hay (1799-1863), endowed with a comfortable fortune, was a Scottish painter, draftsman and collector. He spent more than ten years of his life in Egypt and Nubia, raising monuments. He notably collaborated with Joseph Bonomi, Owen Brown Carter, Frederic Catherwood, Edward William Lane, or even George Oskins, an antiquarian who, in particular, said: “The ‘Hay group’ most often stayed in the hypogeum of Ramses IV …”
The decorations of the Theban tombs of Hay’s expedition are – it seems (they are unfortunately not yet published) – among the most delicious and the most precise!
Five hundred twenty-nine pieces from the collection of antiquities he had built up were sold to the British Museum for the sum of £1,000 after his death.

Ostracon Representing a Maternity Scene

This is a sketch for a mural depicting a young woman seated under a vine-covered arbour nursing a baby. With her hair tied atop her head, she appears naked except for a veil (or is that a scarf to carry the child?), elaborate sandals, jewellery, and a belt. Its upholstered stool has a particular shape.

Below is the fragmentary representation of a servant, whose earring and partially shaved hairstyle suggest her Nubian origin: she holds out a mirror and a kohl tube with her applicator stick.

As the same vine leaves surround her, it is likely that she is also under the pavilion, presenting these objects to the young mother, who retired under the arbour, takes care of her newborn, and regains her strength. It is perhaps in the purification phase.

This ostracon, dated to the 19th or 20th dynasty, is 16.70 cm high, 16.70 cm wide and 8.90 cm thick. It came from Deir el-Medina and was acquired by the British Museum in 1843 when Somerset Lowry-Corry, 2nd Earl of Belmore, put up for sale the collection he had built up during his stay and his excavations. in Egypt in 1816-1818.

SOURCES: Notice and information from the British Museum

The little + of Egyptophile:
The ostraca (in the singular: ostracon) are shards, shards or fragments of limestone, or even terracotta, which were, in antiquity, used by artists as graphic supports for their “essays”. The papyrus was indeed then too expensive and reserved for more ‘noble’ uses… Thus, these “ostraca”, which they found in profusion in the sides of the mountain, were the support on which they worked their preparatory sketches, on which they practised, started again, before reaching excellence and finally being admitted to work in situ in the royal tombs.
They come mostly from this place, which in antiquity was called Set Maât her imenty Ouaset – the Place of Truth to the west of Thebes – and today known as the village of artisans of Deir el-Medina. The excavation of its “Grand Puits” by Bernard Bruyère in 1948-1949 made it possible to find more than 5000 ostraca!

Shell-Shaped Pendant With the Name of Sesostris III

This shell-shaped amulet is made of a thin gold leaf, pressed onto a mould and inscribed with the name Sesostris III in a cartouche. The interior is strongly concave. The suspension ring had come loose and was repositioned without much care.

Certain peculiarities in the “spelling” of the inscription cast doubt on its authenticity; however, this does not invalidate the authenticity of this piece because this type of shell, not inscribed, was common as an amulet during the Middle Kingdom.

Natural oyster shells with royal names may have been a military decoration. The shell represented here is probably of the species ‘Avicula (Meleagrina) margaritacea’.

This 5 cm high and 4.5 cm wide pendant was bequeathed to the British Museum in 1939 by Sir Robert Ludwig Mond.

SOURCES: Notice and information from the British Museum

The little + of Egyptophile:
Robert Ludwig Mond (1867 – 1938) was a wealthy chemical industrialist. Following a meeting in London with Percy E. Newberry, he went to Egypt in 1901. It was the beginning of a passion to which he would henceforth devote most of his leisure time and a good part of his fortune. The “Who was Who in Egyptology” states: “In 1902, he undertook to clear and record the Theban tombs and discovered new ones. He personally supervised excavations in 1902-5 and 1923-6; for these works, he was assisted by Newberry, Carter, E.J. Mackay, Emery, Frankfort, F.W Green, Weigall, Yeivin and others”… For nearly 40 years, his resources enabled him to take charge of the costly cleanings and restorations of several tombs and landmarks…

Fragmentary Bust of a Woman

The figure wears a long, heavy wig with a lotus stem placed on the top of the head; the flower blooms on the forehead, slightly above the central parting of the hair. On the wig is a decorated headband unless it is a tiara. Strands of hair, individualized, were braided up to shoulder height, then doubled on each side, with other braids separated but tighter and shorter at the tip. She wears a large and wide pearl necklace made up of several rows that go up high on the neck. She holds her left arm crossed over her body, with a sistrum in her left hand. On the left wrist, we notice the patterned sleeve of his garment, which also covers the left arm and shoulder. His face is round and fleshy, with large eyes and thick arched eyebrows. There appears to be an incised line above the right eye to indicate a fold of flesh, which is not clearly marked on the left side. The nose is long and slender, with a small cupid’s bow visible above the upper lip. The lips are thick, with the left outer corner slightly higher than the right side. On the back are the remains of an inscribed pillar with two wide columns of text, the right edge now damaged and the lower part of the two columns lost.

In addition to the lack of the lower body and right side, the fingertips of the left hand and the nose are damaged.

Although this is not known to depict a royal or elite woman, it has been suggested that using this dark, hard stone may indicate that the statue was likely intended for a temple rather than a funerary setting (Russmann 2001). Early sources also report the provenance of this statue as Thebes (Budge 1922; though “unproven” in PM VIII; Russmann 2001).

This bust, dated from the 19th dynasty, is 31 cm high (34 with the base), 18 cm wide and weighs 14.30 kg. It was acquired by the British Museum in 1853 from London art and antique dealer Harry Osborn Cureton.

SOURCES: Notice and information from the British Museum

The little + of Egyptophile:
The initials “PM” cited in the questioning relating to the statue’s provenance refer to the “Porter & Moss”, which owes its name to its two primary authors: Bertha Porter and Rosalind Moss. The colossal work they have produced is thus presented by the Griffith Institute for which they worked: “The Topographical Bibliography of Hieroglyphic Texts, Statues, Reliefs and Paintings of Ancient Egypt (also known as Porter & Moss) is an essential and comprehensive reference resource for Egyptologists, presenting and analyzing published and unpublished information on ancient Egyptian monuments. The first seven volumes are topographically arranged and cover the whole of Egypt and regions beyond, including Nubia (southernmost modern Egypt and northern Sudan). Volume VIII deals with the important body of material in museums and private collections without provenance.”

Fragmentary Limestone Stele With Akhenaten

Akhenaten sits casually on a low-backed padded chair with side struts in the shape of the ancient royal symbol for the unification of Upper and Lower Egypt, which is partly hidden by the long sash of his pleated kilt. The disc of Aten was above him, in the centre of the stele. The hands at the ends of his spokes are stretched out to bless his self-proclaimed son. One of Akhenaton’s hands is raised, apparently towards a small figure in front of him, who could be one of the six daughters he had with Nefertiti. It is almost certain that the whole scene showed Nefertiti sitting across from her husband and probably some of their daughters as well. Akhenaten’s name is written in cartouches in front of his face. The delicacy of the features and the round chest prompted some of the first observers to suggest that this represented Nefertiti (whose name appears with that of Akhenaten in the inscriptions on the frame). Still, they’re just a toned-down version of his lean, oddly androgynous physique. Specific details, such as his large eyes with heavy lids, suggest that the stele dates from the end of his reign. He is depicted with a short, round, curly wig, which is unusual for this ruler. This fragment is reconstructed by reassembling two broken pieces. Traces of paint are still visible: blue on the king’s wig, the hieroglyphs and the dividing lines, and red on the king’s body, the ribbons, the belt and the cushion.

This fragmentary painted limestone stele is 28 cm high, including its base, and 14.7 cm wide. It comes from excavations in 1932 in Amarna by the Egypt Exploration Society, which then donated to the British Museum.

SOURCES: Notice and information from the British Museum

The little + of Egyptophile:
Amenhotep IV is the son of Amenhotep III and Queen Tiyi. He ascended the throne of the Double Country on his father’s death around 1349 BC. J.-C. He left Thebes to build a new city: Akhetaton – the horizon of Aten – today Tell el-Amarna. As for Nefertiti, she is at his side from year 4 to year 14 of his reign, which will last 17 years.
And with regard to this very particular “Amarna” art, Georges Bénédite wrote in 1906: “In El-Amarna everything changes, and realism reigns supreme. If we want to see what the resources of Egyptian art could be, freed from all obstacles, what his observant and satirical genius was to give, and his intimate sense of expression, that’s where you have to go.”…

Series of “Ones” of the summer of 2021

Or Missed Opportunities!

“no such thing as chance, and that every act and every expression has its own meaning, determined by the inner feelings and wishes of the individual.” ~ C.G. Jung, Psychology of the Unconscious

Before the sixty-ninth rotation of my presence on this Earth around the sun (it could be tomorrow evening at eight o’clock, my mother once told me, as a homeborn child), I wanted to open some doors (hopefully not closing any) to stop straining my humbleness and let my ego speaks!

As you may be aware, I’ve been dealing with a lot of stress in my personal life recently. This has made it difficult to maintain a sense of balance, and I’ve felt quite weighed down as a result. Because I tried to care deeply about the happiness of those around me (on the media), and I’ve experienced some conflicts in my interactions there.

The word is “Expectation, or await”! Let me explain;

I’ve had many talents I couldn’t fully utilize throughout my life. This may have been due to my mother’s lack of attention or because I chose to prioritize helping my brother Al achieve success. Despite this, I’ve always been amazed by the number of highly admirable, educated, professional, and well-known friends and acquaintances I have – both online and in my personal life. I don’t hold any titles, haven’t published any books, or possess any highly professional licenses.

I have a clear memory of my journey to becoming an actor. It all began when I met some professional actors by chance and asked them if I could join their group. They invited me to observe their work, which I did despite not being very young anymore. After watching them critically, they allowed me to participate in a temporary production. Surprisingly, I performed better than all of them! I have had the opportunity to perform in various productions, including stage performances, TV shows, and two movies. However, I had to leave due to the constraints and disruptions imposed by the Islamic regime. Following our escape from Iran, I provided my full support to Al in his writing endeavours. After his passing, I found myself struggling to rediscover who I was, both in the past and present.

And after going back and forth, I ended up on WP and made many star friends. However, there is an issue with handling each other and the “expectation” involved. Due to stress, I couldn’t read all the posts from my favourite writers, and as I don’t like leaving cliche comments, I just left them without. Some friends understood my situation, but others did not (I even heard teasing when I apologized).

People can become so absorbed in their own lives that they assume everyone is in the same situation. It’s important to take a step back and realize that there are many versions of what it means to struggle. Sometimes, simply clicking the like button or keeping silent is more meaningful than leaving a meaningless comment. Anyhow, I will try to make this not longer than it is; I paste a copy of a post on Facebook by one of my dear worthy friends, Isa Bel. May it help all Leos to understand themselves better.

LEO

Do you have any planets in Leo? Here is a good description of the archetype, written by Astrolocherry

The world is a stage for Leo, and they play multiple characters with ease. The role of life is a performance, and Leo absolutely enriches their environment with creative expression and sunny exuberance. Leo is the symphony of the first four signs coming together. There is more to Leo than superiority and dramatized scenes for attention. They are a fairytale story of their own, the character God used for all the greatest stories.

The Leo is a cabaret. Their striking impression becomes the sun in every room, radiating the light and catching every set of eyes. This is the Leo artist illuminating their solar dance in rapturous self-expression. Maybe they paint, sing, or act. Or perhaps they just wield divine creative genius in their pure being.

Pride emanates in admirable self-confidence, and self-presentation is important and vivid.

When another stage is set, the Leo’s heart becomes sultan. They are hopelessly romantic, impassioned, reactive, and generous. Every action is inflamed by the beat of the heart. At this moment, Leo is the nurse who soothes the vulnerable or counsels friends. And for all the remarks of egocentrism, Leo is admirably empathetic, often sacrificing their own well-being to rescue a friend or care for somebody.

There are good skills of mediation in Leo and a heartbeat that plays a gentle lullaby. Now she wants to save the world. This is the side of Leo that weeps over the news and the condition of everything.

When the curtains are pulled, Leo’s emotions internalize; with nobody awake to watch, Leo can crumble.

Loneliness becomes like walls, incarcerating and relentless. There is severe, responsive sensitivity that somewhat drives the individual’s incessant need for validation and trembling fears of abandonment. This side of the Leo longs to cradle baby cubs and fall into the arms of a protective lover.

The inner child is raw and wounded here. This is when they look into the mirror and see a frightened child in the body of a full-grown adult. And this intimate bond with the inner child sets another stage for Leo, where they become the teacher, the guardian, and the source of amusement. There is a golden glow in Leo that seems to draw children close. And they seem to have a natural way with young people, often inspiring with leadership and amusing with play.

The Leo never quite loses the graces and the faults of youth. The Leo never follows a script, but the red carpet is always ready to be rolled out. This is the infinite motion picture.

Written by Astrolocherry

Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I could write this article. You might wonder why and argue that we just returned from a fantastic vacation and were excited to use our newly renovated kitchen. Unfortunately, things didn’t go as smoothly as we had hoped. First to say;

Whenever I travel, I face a major issue of leaving my work behind at home. As a struggling artist in a world of affluence, I only have my smartphone to work with while travelling (if I would come to it), which isn’t as effective as my PC. Thus, I cannot function efficiently and stay on top of things. While taking a break may seem ideal, I often return home to a pile of posts and emails that need to be checked. Unfortunately, other issues seem to constantly follow me.

Anyway, in the beginning, we noticed a few minor errors in the construction of the kitchen, as well as some scratches on the “brand-new” floor🤓. However, we have scheduled the installer to come and fix these issues on Monday. Though the surprises kept on marching forward!

The first was a waterfall I found in the basement ceiling last Friday; it was right under our bathroom, next to the kitchen. So, we immediately called the emergency assistance to locate the source of the leak; “maybe” it happened because the new kitchen was being built and the kitchen would have to be dismantled, he said!! Shock and shock again: first, after almost two weeks of camping in your living room until the kitchen was finished, and now again? Secondly, the house owner certainly does not take over these repair costs, and we have to argue with the IKEA construction company.

But thank goodness, after drilling here and there, it has become clear that it is not from the kitchen after all, but the pipe under the bathtub is broken according to old age.

Well, we have planned a trip to the North Sea. It’d be all right, said the Master: It would be possible if we leave the keys there; the repairs will have happened when we return; how gorgeous! But that was too nice to be like everyone dreams of: yesterday we arrived at a dusty construction, still working site!

Although some progress was made in putting together the bathroom together to some extent by the evening, we (my wife mostly) had to clean and dust off almost the entire apartment and hallway.

To summarize, we reside temporarily until Monday, when the technicians and construction teams will arrive to resolve any issues. Despite the circumstances, we still enjoy life, isn’t it a good life?

We just can hope for better circumstances and that the masters of arts, like “Gone With the Wind” or other artists, give a blessing towards the future!! 😉😎🙏💖

Honestly, I never envisioned myself writing a trilogy on this subject. Yet, here I am. While the first two entries were brief updates on my situation, I feel compelled to elaborate further and shed more light on this occurrence. I cited a quote from Dr Jung on “change” as we recently upgraded our kitchen. To be frank, I usually resist change unless it’s necessary. I’m content with older things as long as they still work. Thus, I saw no reason to remodel our kitchen since it was still working properly.

Of course, there is another quote from Jung about this subject which I admire as well:

Anyway, my adorable wife, though, has a different approach. She is not very patient and cannot tolerate things for too long. For example, our kitchen was almost thirty years old ( I must admit it is aged!), and she couldn’t stand it anymore. Being the boss most of the time, she took action, and I had to play the role of the working-class hero. 😎😉

Before ☝ Afterwards👇

I must acknowledge that all the efforts have paid off, and the outcome appears satisfactory, potentially lasting another 30 years!

As a follow-up, I would like to discuss the impact of mental exercises after engaging in physically demanding activities. Some individuals may not require extensive physical exertion to achieve this effect. Engaging in physical activity allows the mind, or more accurately, the soul, to relax. As a result, one may feel wholly drained with no creative thoughts flowing, but instead, a sense of inner peace. I believe this is valuable information to keep in mind.

We may have less money, but we are much happier having a brand-new kitchen. It feels like a well-deserved reward. 😅💖🙏

After that achievement, I’ll be kidnapped again the following weekend, including the week ahead, towards the North Sea, so you know!
And I say goodbye to you with a two-chord song from my buddy fellow, John.

One of the most beautiful and sensitive tales ever written for children by one of the most sensitive authors in the world: Oscar Wilde. He was definitely different from others: unpredictable!

I’ve been coming across Oscar Wilde’s literary works and fairy tales quite often lately. I am pleased to present a captivating excerpt from one of their beautiful tales. The Selfish Giant; chapter three.

“Who hath dared to wound thee?” cried the Giant; “tell me that I may take my big sword and slay him.”

“Nay!” answered the child, “but these are the wounds of Love.”

“Who art thou?” said the Giant, and a strange awe fell on him, and he knelt before the little child.

And the child smiled at the Giant and said to him, “You let me play once in your garden; today, you shall come with me to my garden, which is Paradise.”

And when the children ran in that afternoon, they found the Giant lying dead under the tree, all covered with white blossoms.  

Would you like to tackle the entire third chapter? Here it is, enjoy.

“The Selfish Giant”, Oscar Wilde

Then the Spring came, and all over the country, there were little blossoms and little birds. Only in the garden of the Selfish Giant, it was still Winter. The birds did not care to sing in it as there were no children, and the trees forgot to blossom. Once a beautiful flower put its head out from the grass, but when it saw the notice board, it was so sorry for the children that it slipped back into the ground again and went off to sleep. The only people who were pleased were the Snow and the Frost. “Spring has forgotten this garden,” they cried, “so we will live here all year round.” The Snow covered the grass with her great white cloak, and the Frost painted all the trees silver. Then they invited the North Wind to stay with them, and he came. He was wrapped in furs, and he roared all day about the garden and blew the chimney pots down. “This is a delightful spot,” he said, “we must ask the Hail on a visit.” So the Hail came. Every day for three hours, he rattled on the roof of the castle till he broke most of the slates, and then he ran round and round the garden as fast as he could go. He was dressed in grey, and his breath was like ice.

“I cannot understand why the Spring is so late in coming,” said the Selfish Giant as he sat at the window and looked out at his cold white garden; “I hope there will be a change in the weather.”

But the Spring never came, nor the Summer. The Autumn gave golden fruit to every garden, but to the Giant’s garden, she gave none. “He is too selfish,” she said. So it was always Winter there, and the North Wind, and the Hail, and the Frost, and the Snow danced about through the trees.

One morning the Giant was lying awake in bed when he heard some lovely music. It sounded so sweet to his ears that he thought it must be the King’s musicians passing by. It was really only a little linnet singing outside his window, but it was so long since he had heard a bird sing in his garden that it seemed to him to be the most beautiful music in the world. Then the Hail stopped dancing over his head, and the North Wind ceased roaring, and a delicious perfume came to him through the open casement. “I believe the Spring has come at last,” said the Giant, and he jumped out of bed and looked out.

What did he see?

He saw a most wonderful sight. Through a little hole in the wall, the children had crept in, and they were sitting in the branches of the trees. In every tree that he could see, there was a little child. And the trees were so glad to have the children back again that they had covered themselves with blossoms and were waving their arms gently above the children’s heads. The birds were flying about and twittering with delight, and the flowers were looking up through the green grass and laughing. It was a lovely scene; only in one corner, it was still Winter. It was the farthest corner of the garden, and in it was standing a little boy. He was so small that he could not reach up to the branches of the tree, and he was wandering all around it, crying bitterly. The poor tree was still quite covered with Frost and Snow, and the North Wind was blowing and roaring above it. “Climb up! Little boy,” said the Tree, and it bent its branches down as low as it could; but the boy was too tiny.

And the Giant’s heart melted as he looked out. “How selfish I have been!” he said; “now I know why the Spring would not come here. I will put that poor little boy on the top of the tree, and then I will knock down the wall, and my garden shall be the children’s playground forever and ever.” He was really very sorry for what he had done.

So he crept downstairs and opened the front door quite softly, and went out into the garden. But when the children saw him, they were so frightened that they all ran away, and the garden became Winter again. Only the little boy did not run, for his eyes were so full of tears that he did not see the Giant coming. And the Giant stole up behind him, took him gently in his hand, and put him up into the tree. And the tree broke at once into blossom, and the birds came and sang on it, and the little boy stretched out his two arms and flung them round the Giant’s neck, and kissed him. And the other children, when they saw that the Giant was no longer wicked, came running back, and the Spring came with them. “It is your garden now, little children,” said the Giant, and he took a great axe and knocked down the wall. And when the people were going to market at twelve o’clock, they found the Giant playing with the children in the most beautiful garden they had ever seen.

All day long, they played, and in the evening, they came to the Giant to bid him goodbye.

“But where is your little companion?” he said: “the boy I put into the tree.” The Giant loved him the best because he had kissed him.

“We don’t know,” answered the children; “he has gone away.”

“You must tell him to be sure and come here tomorrow,” said the Giant. But the children said they did not know where he lived and had never seen him before, and the Giant felt very sad.

Every afternoon, when school was over, the children came and played with the Giant. But the little boy whom the Giant loved was never seen again. The Giant was very kind to all the children, yet he longed for his first little friend and often spoke of him. “How I would like to see him!” he used to say.

Years went over, and the Giant grew very old and feeble. He could not play about any more, so he sat in a huge armchair, watched the children at their games, and admired his garden. “I have many beautiful flowers,” he said, “but the children are the most beautiful flowers of all.”

One winter morning, he looked out his window as he dressed. He did not hate the Winter now, for he knew it was merely the Spring asleep and the flowers were resting.

Suddenly he rubbed his eyes in wonder and looked and looked. It certainly was a marvellous sight. In the farthest corner of the garden was a tree entirely covered with lovely white blossoms. Its branches were all golden, and silver fruit hung down from them, and underneath it stood the little boy he had loved.

Downstairs ran the Giant in great joy and out into the garden. He hastened across the grass and came near to the child. And when he came pretty close, his face grew red with anger, and he said, “Who hath dared to wound thee?” For on the palms of the child’s hands were the prints of two nails, and the prints of two were on the little feet.

“Who hath dared to wound thee?” cried the Giant; “tell me that I may take my big sword and slay him.”

“Nay!” answered the child, “but these are the wounds of Love.”

“Who art thou?” said the Giant, and a strange awe fell on him, and he knelt before the little child.

And the child smiled at the Giant and said to him, “You let me play once in your garden; today, you shall come with me to my garden, which is Paradise.”

And when the children ran in that afternoon, they found the Giant lying dead under the tree, all covered with white blossoms.

We have completed several tasks in our kitchen renovation project so far. We removed the old cabinets and resolved any leftover issues, sealed all the gaps, painted the walls, and replaced the flooring with new laminate. We are eagerly anticipating the arrival of our new kitchen cabinets next week, and we expect them to be of better quality than the cabinets of the federal government.😉🤗🤟

Take care, friends. 🤗🙏💖

Honestly, if I had to choose a prophet and a holy book, I would go for Carl Gustav Jung and The Red Book, respectively. In The Red Book, Jung speaks about his encounter with the Self, his “Self”, and his journey through the desert, much like a prophet, accompanied by his ego but ultimately alone.

As I have shared of them here, Carl Jung, in his books, wrote his explanations in a way that could be understood, or at least he tried to do so. But in sharing his insights (as he did in The Red Book), Carl Jung aimed for clarity and understanding. However, his words carry a strong emotional resonance that may not be immediately apparent to some readers. It’s important to read between the lines and approach his ideas carefully rather than taking them at face value. (I have some examples on FB’s Jungian groups; I wonder what some people are doing there?!)

I want to share a section of this remarkable book. Let us strive to be mindful of our surroundings and reflect on how they align with our inner emotions.

(The images are written in the original language)

We are miserable without you and wear out our songs.
We spoke all the words that our hearts gave us.
What else do you want?
What else shall we fulfil for you?
We open every door for you.
We bent our knees where you want us to do.
We go to all points of the compass according to your wish.
We carry up what is below, and we turn what is above into what is below, as you commend.
We give and take according to your wish.
We wanted to turn right but go left, obedient to your sign. We rise, and we fall; we sway, and we remain still; we see, and we are blind; we hear, and we are deaf; we say yes and no, always hearing your word.
We do not comprehend, and we live incomprehensibly.
We do not love, and we live the unloved.
And we evolve around ourselves again and comprehend.
We love and live the loved, true to your law.

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Come to us, we who are willing from our own will.
Come to us, we who understand you from our own spirit.
Come to us, we who will warm you at our own Fire.
Come to us, we who will heal you with our own art.
Come to us, we who will produce you out of our own body.
Come child, to father and mother.

We ask Earth. We ask Heaven. We ask the Sea. We ask the Wind. We ask the Fire.
We looked for you with all the people.
We looked for you with all the kings.
We looked for you with all the wise.
We looked for you in our own heads and hearts.
And we found you in the egg.

I have slain a precious human sacrifice for you,
a youth and old man.
I have cut my skin with a knife.
I have sprinkled your altar with my own blood.
I have banished my father and mother so that you can live with me.
I turned my night into day and went about midday like a sleepwalker.
I have overthrown all the Gods, broken the laws, eaten the impure.
I have thrown down my sword and dressed in woman’s clothing.
I shattered my firm castle and played like a child in the sand.
I saw warriors form into line of battle, and I destroyed my suit of armour with a hammer.
I planned my field and let the fruit decay.
I made small everything that was great and made everything great that was small.
I exchanged my furthest goal for the nearest, and so I am ready.