Different kinds of knowing, each having their own veracity and value, are to be cultivated and used appropriately. However, there is one kind of knowing we should avoid as much as possible: belief.
Book of the Dead, Book of the Amduat, Book of Caverns, Coffin Texts, Book of the Night, Book of the Earth, Book of Gates - these and more comprise a group of ancient Egyptian texts which describe the journey of Ra through the night world and, by extension, that of the dead soul following his pattern. First discovered by Champollion in the Valley of the Kings in 1829, they were pretty much dismissed as priestly fantasies by subsequent Egyptologists, though Maspero and Lefébure worked on deciphering some of the books in the 19th century. Only in the 20th century did scholars like Piankoff and Hornung begin to really study this rich material.
But I can understand why some were initially put off. I even found myself commenting last week to a friend, “The ancient Egyptians were in their own way just as nutty as the early Christians!” (If you’ve read all the lately-translated apocryphal texts you’ll know what I mean.) Hornung’s The Ancient Egyptian Books of the Afterlife is a blow-by-blow description of what you see in the accompanying drawings. Page after page of embellishments, fantastical netherworld characters, and attempts to graphically illustrate esoteric concepts begin to make me a bit dizzy. I start to wonder just how much artistic license the different priest-artist-scribes employed while creating their masterpieces.
But I’ve reconsidered. Some say that pre-industrial people did not distinguish between the physical and the realm of the soul, as we do now. Certainly, the written record indicates that Egyptians viewed every part of existence as infused with meaning and spirit. The books of the afterlife predominantly depict and describe these ideas, illustrated with a seemingly-endless pantheon of otherworldly deities and characters. Hence, a human figure with the head of an cobra can stand for the motherly protection for which the cobra was noted. A floating pair of arms may denote protection, or the reverential passing of the sun disk from one place to another. Mummies are shown which have waked from the dead and turned over in their coffin, the implication being that they are about to rise and walk into a new life. And snakes - there are a lot of snakes, some of them a protective coil or ourobouros, and others represent the sinister Apep (or Apophis).
Egyptian culture was one that valued dreams and the numinous. The Duat was nothing if not liminal, poised as it was on the edges between life and death and new life, between conscious and subconscious, between this world and the next. I can imagine that priests who were truly devoted to their practice and craft would birth fresh ideas in the course of temple life. No doubt, some also wanted to impress the client with elaborate products that might be perceived as better than the last client’s - though most of these works were found in tombs of pharaohs. The texts also span many centuries and several locales; given how different English communications now are radically different from only 400 years ago, I would likewise expect Egyptian texts to show some evolution.
The afterlife books also remind me of the value of personal gnosis. Our scientific era has made this a dicey subject - how can gnosis replace so-called verifiable fact? But ancient Egyptians understood the importance of those insights which can only emerge from within, from the dark waters of the Duat, or from the watery interior of Nut’s body (through which the sun also passed during the night). Pondering the mysteries of the afterlife texts is like stepping into those waters and exploring, one foot in the conscious world and one in that of the soul.
Or, why UPG is personal, and why no one else's gnosis should get in the way of your relationship with Himself.
Loki is many things - charismatic, cunning, ruthless, loyal, loving. When I was a newer Lokean (yanno, still had the new car smell!), I used to worry that the sweet Husband that I had was somehow a false Loki or a sockpuppet or whatever godphone error. Over time, I've come to realize that it's not that someone else is wrong about Loki being harsh to them, or that I'm wrong in understanding His relationship with me, it's just that I'm not living with their Loki, and they're not living with mine. I suppose some of my feelings on Him are colored by perspective - it's not as if I've never been asked to do something hard - I left my mortal spouse, uprooted my child, lost a fair amount of zie's childhood pictures and keepsakes, many of which I'll never be able to replace, but the reason why He asked it of me was of Nyd, and still done out of love, so I can't truly be angry with Him or feel it unjust.
"Comparisons are odious," Elizabeth V once said to me, and she was right, though I'd take that a step further even, and say that comparisons are useless if they don't help you understand your relationship with Him. (And if Loki's not your Deity, feel free to sub Whoever's name in there, because He's by no means the only multifaceted Holy One.) There are times when UPG that differs from yours can be instructive and interesting, even if you don't experience it personally, but some is just useless. For example, I've seen people who swear that they have UPG of Himself being EEEEVIL or of the Aesir despising Him. Guess what? that UPG? USELESS to me, because it's not how I experience any of Them. I'm sure they'd find mine equally Not Helpful....