ANW Reflection: Archeology of the Soul

March 15, 2026

Archeology of the Soul - Part 2

Brushing Away the Sands of Time:

Omm Sety and the Archeology of Memory

by Roger Morimoto

Most of us have had the experience of opening an old box of family photographs or childhood keepsakes tucked away in an attic or closet. As we sort through these objects, something unexpected often happens. Memories return. Feelings surface. Moments that seemed long forgotten suddenly feel alive again. It can feel as though we are gently brushing away the sands of time that have settled over our past, revealing layers of meaning that were never truly lost.

That experience came to mind recently while traveling through Egypt. Ancient places often carry stories that blur the boundary between history and memory. Standing among structures that have endured for thousands of years, it can feel as though the past is not entirely gone but simply resting beneath the surface.

While traveling along the Nile, our Egyptian guide Tariq shared one such story.

It was the story of Omm Sety.

As Tariq spoke, his energy noticeably shifted. He became animated in a way that was different from his usual explanations of temple construction or royal dynasties. Later, it made sense why. Tariq was from Abydos—the same region where Omm Sety spent much of her life living beside the ancient Temple of Seti I. For him, this was not simply an unusual historical story. It was connected to his own home.

The Woman Who Remembered Egypt

Omm Sety was born in England in 1904 as Dorothy Eady. After a childhood accident, she began describing vivid impressions of ancient Egypt that never faded. As an adult she eventually moved to Egypt, learned the language, and worked alongside archaeologists.

Over time, she settled near the Temple of Seti I in Abydos, where she became known locally as “Omm Sety.” One story associated with her life is especially intriguing.

She once described the location of a garden that she said had existed beside the temple in ancient times. The garden had long since disappeared beneath layers of desert sand, yet she indicated where it had once been and described its arrangement. Later excavations revealed traces suggesting that a garden had indeed existed in that area.

Whether one interprets this as intuition, archaeological familiarity, or something more mysterious, the image itself is powerful: a garden buried beneath centuries of sand, waiting quietly to be rediscovered.

Nothing is truly gone.
It is simply covered.

The Architecture of Memory

Traveling through Egypt makes this idea almost tangible. At temples such as Karnak Temple and Luxor Temple, archaeologists have uncovered structures built upon earlier structures, sometimes separated by hundreds of years. Entire histories lie beneath the visible landscape.

In a sense, human experience unfolds in a similar way.

Our present lives form the visible surface, yet beneath that surface lie earlier layers—childhood experiences, family influences, cultural memories, and personal stories that continue to shape who we become. Going through childhood photographs or family heirlooms can feel remarkably similar to the work of an archaeologist. As each object is rediscovered, another layer of life emerges again into view.

Egypt, with its buried temples and rediscovered ruins, becomes a powerful metaphor for this inner landscape.

Resonance in the King’s Chamber

Sometimes ancient places awaken that sense of depth in unexpected ways.

Inside the Great Pyramid of Giza, our group spent a few quiet moments in the King’s Chamber, toning together,

allowing sound to resonate through the stone space.

During that time, something surprising occurred for me. Instead of feeling like a visitor in an ancient monument, I experienced an unexpected sense of familiarity. Images of my childhood home began appearing in my awareness.

Later, while sharing about this moment at our recent Gathering of Community, I realized how curious that experience had been. Inside one of the most ancient structures on Earth, what surfaced in my awareness was not something distant or exotic, but something deeply personal and familiar.

It was as though memory had folded across time.

A Hidden Chamber at Dendera

Another moment during the journey carried a similar symbolic quality.

While exploring the Temple of Hathor, we were guided toward a small opening that led into one of the temple’s inner chambers.

Reaching it required descending a narrow ladder and crawling through a tight passage into a long, narrow corridor. The chamber felt hidden and intimate, clearly not intended for large groups.

At the far end of the corridor was an image of Hathor. For our group, the moment carried additional meaning, as our journey had been led by a teacher who works as a channel for “Hathor.” Finding ourselves in a hidden chamber dedicated to that same archetypal presence felt quietly significant.

The experience was simple and contemplative, yet it lingered long afterward.

Archaeology follows a similar principle. What appears empty ground may contain walls, temples, and entire histories beneath the surface. The work of the archaeologist is simply to reveal what has been hidden.

Perhaps the inner life follows the same pattern. Parts of our story may remain quietly present beneath the surface of our everyday awareness, waiting for the moment when we are ready to uncover them.

A Question That Remains

The story of Omm Sety continues to intrigue people not only because of the mystery surrounding her memories, but because of the question it raises.

Why do certain places awaken such powerful feelings of familiarity? Many people who visit ancient landscapes report something similar—a sense that time is layered and that something within us responds to those deeper layers.

Perhaps the experience is not so different from opening an old box of childhood photographs or family relics. As we gently handle those objects, memories surface again—moments that seemed buried suddenly return with surprising clarity.

In a similar way, ancient places sometimes feel as though they are brushing away the sands of time, revealing layers of meaning and memory that were quietly waiting beneath the surface.

Perhaps that is why such places continue to draw us back—not only to remember the past, but to rediscover something within ourselves.