Egipcios Kier 45 * Regeneration

Sometimes life falls apart.

A relationship ends. A dream dies. The foundation we trusted gives way beneath our feet. In those moments, regeneration begins with the quiet decision to build again.

Card 45 captures that process. At its center, a man raises a small djed pillar, the ancient Egyptian symbol of stability and resurrection. Its modest size is significant. Renewal rarely begins with dramatic victories. It begins by lifting one small thing back into place.

The ancient Egyptians celebrated this act in the Raising of the Djed ceremony, in which the pillar was lifted before the sowing season as a sign that life would return. Associated with Osiris, the djed became a symbol of restoration after loss, reminding us that even what has fallen may stand again.

The card's other symbols reinforce that hope. An ear of grain recalls the Egyptian Field of Reeds, where life continues beyond death. The Hebrew letter Hei (ה) hints at the divine Presence that accompanies renewal. Together they suggest that regeneration is more than recovery. It is participation in the ongoing work of creation.

Nelise Carbonare Vieira associates this card with the traditional Six of Cups. I find that correspondence especially meaningful. We do not rebuild from nothing. We rebuild from memory, from relationships, from skills we thought we had lost, and from the quiet gifts that have remained with us all along.

My teacher, Rabbi Alan Berg, once explained why we break a glass at a Jewish wedding. In our moment of greatest joy, we remember the destruction of the Temple. Then, when sorrow inevitably comes, we are able to remember joy. The two belong together.

Regeneration is not forgetting what was lost. It is discovering that hope survived the loss.

Egipcios Kier * 67 Veneration

Card 67 depicts a woman standing in an attitude of reverence. She bends forward, one hand raised toward her face and the other extended toward an unseen altar. Her posture expresses trust, gratitude, and wholehearted attention.

Above her appear an incense burner, a stylized wave, and the Hebrew letter Heh (ה). Incense has long symbolized sanctification. Its fragrance transforms ordinary space into sacred space, while the rising smoke suggests prayers ascending beyond words.

Below her rests the black jackal of Anubis. Kaplan identifies it as the guardian of the dead, whose black color symbolized regeneration rather than evil. The image quietly reminds us that every act of devotion shapes the person we are becoming.

Egyptian fleets sailed from the Gulf of Aqaba in search of incense and other precious goods from the distant Kingdom of Punt, probably in present-day Eritrea. Incense was among the most treasured substances of the ancient world. It purified the air, masked the smell of sacrifice, and marked a place as holy. Even today, many religious traditions burn incense because its fragrance helps quiet the mind and turn the heart toward prayer.

Kaplan associates this card with purification, ritual, harmony between spiritual and physical life, beauty, and religious devotion. Reversed, he suggests conflict between worldly concerns and spiritual ideals or the pursuit of unattainable perfection.

Nelise Carbonare Vieira associates this card with the traditional Knight of Pentacles. Both figures express devotion through steady practice rather than dramatic action. Their faithfulness is shown in what they do every day.

The card leaves me with a simple question: What deserves our reverence?

Whatever we honor day after day gradually shapes us. We become like what we continually admire, whether that is wealth, success, power, beauty, or God.

(This card also reminds me of Nadav and Avihu bringing "alien fire" into the Tabernacle. Not every act of devotion is accepted. Reverence also calls for discernment and wisdom.)

To venerate something is to let it teach us who we are becoming.