The year is 1740 and my feet ache as I stand in the kitchen making duck (good associations, duck has; at least in the older symbolism). In a few weeks the year will be 5784 as I crown it again. Perhaps by then I’ll be moved out into a new apartment… probably not, it’ll take awhile for the places I have interviews scheduled for to get back to me.
When I say a disaffected Copt, I suppose it’s an umbrella term. Lots of people get jumbled and distant for a lot of reasons, and express it differently too. I struggle with how much honesty is too honest. A dash of it; mixed race, Christian parents married to two different people when I was conceived, wound up deciding church isn’t my bag. Also, unrelatedly, I’m a massive fag.
I have bad habits. I’m meant to be asking forgiveness in the lead up to the second crown, but I have trouble identifying significant wrong doing. Half of it is probably that I don’t socialize much. The other half is after a childhood of bullying and pressure to be “gifted”, I don’t like admitting wrong doing. I’m working on it.
Another bad habit I have is telling G-d that if he wants something done in a stupid way, he better come down and explain it himself. Herself, xirself. I will even be hospitable if xe does. I will make tea, and he can take that twink Eli along, and I won’t even make any cracks about the Divine Council having an HR department.
This is not the first Coptic holiday I am celebrating with agency. Just after this Shom Ennesim I had freshly had top surgery; on the drive home, in my still anesthetized state, I was delighted not only by the things I no longer had nerves to feel, but by how green it was. Left, right, forwards, back on the road, all green. I wrote; “Shom Ennesim was this Monday and everything is green and new and pretty and so am I. I saw a tree with little white flowers and yellow field flowers and the roses are starting to bloom again. My chest is flat and I decided to wear green linen pants to the the doctors.”. I also did something small the year before. Living as I do, I too often make myself small.
I wound up researching Nayrouz a bit earlier this year, and the history of its celebration. Some interesting stuff… might write an essay about it once I have all the facts straight (that I can find, anyway). There’s humor to be found in that one academic remarked that his sources recorded it as a star festival with Pharaonic roots and he dismissed it- he should have listened. The pagan Egyptians of years past celebrated on the same date as now, and one of its names was “the coming out of Sothis”- a star.
My duck is appropriate. This date was when traditionally, wine vintages finished and dates were harvested. Both are in a sauce I’ve prepared. My rice has saffron from Persia, like today’s common name. Duck was a symbol of abundance, the life giving power of the Nile, along with fish. Regeneration, rebirth, wild chaos (necessary chaos!), stand ins for lovely young men to be ensnared by lovely young women (though who says they get all the fun?). I’ll surely type up the recipe later.
Next year, I’ll plan better. I had to be out all day on errands; didn’t have any time to do anything special except cooking.
dzhooles 