Over the last few days I have felt a certain close feeling to Yarikh. I would like to share now some of my thoughts and feelings when this god enters my mind.
His dew has been appearing on the spring grass in the garden these last few days. The nights have been beautiful and serene. I can feel him everywhere. He is a man, an older and bearded man, wearing white robes and carrying his silver sickle. I also see his hair and beard as lapis lazuli, though this might be some influence from the Babylonian Sin. I have felt him nearby. He is very much a male deity, a very masculine deity who leaves his semen behind as he passes overhead every night. I like the contrast between him and Shapash as the lamps of the night and day, or the glowing and fiery eyes of God (so to speak).
The other night, while in the bathroom washing my hands and mouth over the sink, I felt and smelled the nightly spring breeze as it came in through the open window. It made me temporarily forget my troubles, and allowed me to enter into a brief moment of contemplation. In that one, brief moment, I felt myself in the summer of last year, on the night preparing for a journey to another town (on a new moon, an auspiscious time). At this time, I felt close to Yarikh and made offerings to him. During the journey, I passed some fields. In one of them was a camel, looking over the stone wall. While I can't recall any immediate connection between camels and moon gods in Canaanite tradition, in the related Arabian tradition camels are sometimes connected to Hubal. After I came back to the present, I considered this to be a sign from Yarikh. I often feel that spiritual 'journeys' into the past come from him, and this makes sense as he is the god responsible for the passage of time through the months.
Another recent experience was looking out of my bedroom window, opening the blue curtains and leaning out into the fresh night air. A gentle breeze blew through the pink blossoming trees in the gardens, and the palm trees in the distance seemed to reach out slowly into the black sky above. Then I saw him, glowing silver. He rose in the distance, high above the unfertile and shrubby hills, shining in all his glory. I had some very peaceful Middle-Eastern music playing as I beheld him, and I felt gentle and whole, and blessed to look upon a god in heaven.
His dew has been appearing on the spring grass in the garden these last few days. The nights have been beautiful and serene. I can feel him everywhere. He is a man, an older and bearded man, wearing white robes and carrying his silver sickle. I also see his hair and beard as lapis lazuli, though this might be some influence from the Babylonian Sin. I have felt him nearby. He is very much a male deity, a very masculine deity who leaves his semen behind as he passes overhead every night. I like the contrast between him and Shapash as the lamps of the night and day, or the glowing and fiery eyes of God (so to speak).
The other night, while in the bathroom washing my hands and mouth over the sink, I felt and smelled the nightly spring breeze as it came in through the open window. It made me temporarily forget my troubles, and allowed me to enter into a brief moment of contemplation. In that one, brief moment, I felt myself in the summer of last year, on the night preparing for a journey to another town (on a new moon, an auspiscious time). At this time, I felt close to Yarikh and made offerings to him. During the journey, I passed some fields. In one of them was a camel, looking over the stone wall. While I can't recall any immediate connection between camels and moon gods in Canaanite tradition, in the related Arabian tradition camels are sometimes connected to Hubal. After I came back to the present, I considered this to be a sign from Yarikh. I often feel that spiritual 'journeys' into the past come from him, and this makes sense as he is the god responsible for the passage of time through the months.
Another recent experience was looking out of my bedroom window, opening the blue curtains and leaning out into the fresh night air. A gentle breeze blew through the pink blossoming trees in the gardens, and the palm trees in the distance seemed to reach out slowly into the black sky above. Then I saw him, glowing silver. He rose in the distance, high above the unfertile and shrubby hills, shining in all his glory. I had some very peaceful Middle-Eastern music playing as I beheld him, and I felt gentle and whole, and blessed to look upon a god in heaven.
