Inspired to Move Mountains: The Artistic & Spiritual Power of Egypt
CHAPTER 1: ALWAYS A PART OF ME
In 2019, I finally made the pilgrimage to Egypt. The trip awakened my soul (“ba” to the ancients) and has changed me forever. In this series, I share the spiritual, artistic and personal encounters that were Egypt’s gifts to me. Through them, I hope you too can feel her mystic, magnetic draw.
I don’t remember when I first discovered Egypt. But as far back as I can remember, I’ve been fascinated and obsessed.
As early as kindergarten or first grade I recall an Egypt day at school. The colors and hieroglyphs fascinated me. The simple, geometric, yet perfect soft balance of their figures and decorations captivated me. I still feel the same power and draw to the temple and tomb art today as I did back then. In it, I never saw the practiced ritualism the archeologists claim it represents. I’ve always felt life, energy, something unexplainable and awe-inspiring.
When I turned 18, I immediately got my first tattoo; a wad-jet eye in black. I had known for years that I wanted something Egyptian. The eye and all it stood for felt right. Two years later I added a hieratic scarab… then a hieroglyphic phrase from the book of the dead… then the horns and sundisk of Hathor… finally another hieroglyphic phrase of my own composure on my forearm. Again, I don’t exactly recall making the decision to only place Egyptian art and symbols on my body. I think it was something I just felt all along. To me, tattoos are sacred, like Egypt. They have intense meaning, like Egypt. It just felt natural to celebrate and keep it close in this way.
For twenty years, I’ve been actively planning a trip to Egypt.
I’ve always known I wanted to go, but it naturally took reaching the independence of adulthood to spur me into action.
In the late 90s, Egypt had been plagued by a number of tourist-focused terror attacks, including almost two hundred deaths in a single incident when the Temple of Hatshepsut at Dier al-Bahri was taken hostage in the middle of the day while filled with sightseers. Needless to say, my family objected to my travel goals.
So I waited.
Then, in 2010 when the scares of the 90s seemed finally out of mind, the revolution happened.
So I waited.
Then I hit a wall. I could spend my entire life waiting for it to feel safe for everyone around me, or I could just say, “eff it.” I feel comfortable. That’s all that should really matter. I stopped waiting, and started researching tours. I knew I’d feel better with a group, especially if I was going alone. And no doubt my husband and family would also feel better that way.
There were a few key places I had to visit. Wouldn’t think of missing. One of those being the Temple of Hathor at Dendera, it quickly narrowed the options because Dendera is up river from Luxor and most tours don’t go there. When I finally let my mom know my intentions, she was concerned — mostly that I was going alone. Two days later she called and said she’d love to go with me. I never in a million years thought she’d be interested, as she’d always cautioned me against going. It was a lovely surprise to now have a travel companion that I knew would be happy to share in all my crazy, Egypt obsessing.
I would also get to introduce her to ghost hunting. As I fully intended to bring my maglite and hoped with all my heart to channel some ancient spirit and have a flashlight conversation.
We booked the tour and began planning for the mother daughter adventure of a lifetime.
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