I don’t know if you caught it when I initially posted about the Bacchic Fairies & Goblins but the Dwarf King who invites Herla to attend his wedding beneath the Earth in Walter Map’s De Nugis Curiallium is wearing a nebris – and King Herla, of course, is an early form of the Erlkönig, the Elf King who carries off the wife of Orpheus, King of the Britons in Sir Orfeo.

The symptoms she suffers after the snakebite are very much like what we find in certain types of Mainadism and Tarantism:

She slept until the sun had passed its height. And when she woke – God! She screamed and started doing some terrible things! She beat with her hands and her feet and scratched her face with her fingernails so badly that the blood ran down her cheeks. She tore at her frock, ripping the costly material into shreds, and behaving for all the world as though she had gone stark staring mad. Her two maidens were frightened out of their wits! They ran to the palace and urged everyone to go and restrain her. Knights made their way as quickly as they could to the orchard, and ladies and damsels also, more than sixty I think. They arrived at the orchard, took the Queen up in their arms and brought her into the palace and to her bed, where they kept a tight hold on her to prevent her from injuring herself further.

Which we commemorate during the Agrionia and Aletideia, festivals celebrated during the Gold Season.

Although Sir Orfeo gives Heurodis as the name of his wife, Vergil in Georgics IV names her Eurydice and makes the one responsible for her untimely katabasis Aristaeus, who was taught rustic arts by the Nymphs:

Now Apollon begat by Kyrene in that land a son Aristaios and gave him while yet a babe into the hands of the Nymphai to nurture, and the latter bestowed upon him three different names, calling him, that is, Nomios (the Shepherd), Aristaios, and Argeus (the Hunter). He learned from the Nymphai how to curdle milk [i.e. how to make cheese], to make bee-hives, and to cultivate olive-trees, and was the first to instruct men in these matters. And because of the advantage which came to them from these discoveries the men who had received his benefactions rendered to Aristaios honours equal to those offered to the Gods. (Diodoros Sikeliotes, Library of History 4.81.1)

In retaliation, Orpheus curses the bees of Aristaeus and Vergil has the griefstruck demigod consult the Egyptian oracular God Proteus, who instructs him to carry out propitiatory sacrifices:

Choose four bulls of outstanding physique,
that graze on your summits of green Lycaeus,
and as many heifers, with necks free of the yoke.
Set up four altars for them by the high shrines of the goddesses,
and drain the sacred blood from their throats
leaving the bodies of the steers in the leafy grove.
Then when the ninth dawn shows her light
send funeral gifts of Lethean poppies to Orpheus,
and sacrifice a black ewe, and revisit the grove:
worship Eurydice, placate her with the death of a calf.’

Without delay he immediately does as his mother ordered:
he comes to the shrines, raises the altars as required,
and leads four chosen bulls there of outstanding physique,
and as many heifers with necks free of the yoke.
Then when the ninth dawn brings her light,
he sends funeral gifts to Orpheus, and revisits the grove.

Here a sudden wonder appears, marvellous to tell,
bees buzzing and swarming from the broken flanks
among the liquefied flesh of the cattle,
and trailing along in vast clouds, and flowing together
on a tree top, and hanging in a cluster from the bowed branches.

The rebirth of the gold-rich bees from the carcass of cattle reminds one of the Liberalia. Note also that Vergil has Orpheus leave Greece to wander through the Ukraine and Russia:

He wandered the Northern ice, and snowy Tanais,
and the fields that are never free of Rhipaean frost,
mourning his lost Eurydice, and Dis’s vain gift:
the Ciconian women, spurned by his devotion,
tore the youth apart, in their divine rites and midnight
Bacchic revels, and scattered him over the fields.

Although most sources mention that Thracian women were responsible for the martyrdom of Orpheus, Vergil’s making them Kikones is a nice touch considering this people’s connection with Dionysos and the Winds.

Winds also feature in another myth involving Aristaeus – who by the way, is the father of Aktaion mentioned in the nebris post above.

Diodoros’ narrative continues from where we left off:

After this, they say, Aristaios went to Boiotia, where he married one of the daughters of Kadmos, Autonoë to whom was born Aktaion, who, as the myths relate, was torn to pieces by his own dogs . . . After the death of Aktaion Aristaios went to the oracle of his father Apollon, who prophesied to him that he was to change his home to the island of Keos.

To this island he sailed, but since a plague prevailed throughout Greece the sacrifice he offered there was on behalf of all the Greeks. And since the sacrifice was made at the time of the rising of the star Seirios, which is the period when the Etesian winds customarily blow, the pestilential diseases, we are told, came to an end.

Now the man who ponders upon this event may reasonably marvel at the strange turn which fortune took; for the same man who saw his son done to death by the dogs likewise put an end to the influence of the star which, of all the stars of heaven, bears the same name and is thought to bring destruction upon mankind, and by so doing was responsible for saving the lives of the rest.

Which has added resonance this year because of the coronavirus. Maybe President Trump needs to sacrifice some bulls to the Winds and Dog Star if he wants to rejuvenate the economy on Easter – or things could get beary serious.

Anyway, just some of the feta crumbs folks may have missed. I’m a little in awe of how deep and rich the symbolism of our Bakcheion calendar is, and how rewarding a serious study of this material is proving. Seriously, I hope you’re enjoying this as much as I am. 

Oh my. *fans self*

So I’m mulling over the etymology of óðr and specifically this bit:

Ultimately these Germanic words are derived from the Proto-Indo-European word *wāt-, which meant “to blow (on), to fan (flames)”, fig. “to inspire”. The same root also appears in Latin vātēs (“seer”, “singer”), which is considered to be a Celtic loanword, compare to Irish fāith (“poet”, but originally “excited”, “inspired”). The root has also been said to appear in Sanskrit vāt– “to fan.”

When I remembered something about Odysseus.

He carries the Mystica Vannus Iacchi.

And Odysseus of many wiles answered her, and said: “Strange lady! why dost thou now so urgently bid me tell thee? Yet I will declare it, and will hide nothing. Verily thy heart shall have no joy of it, even as I myself have none; for Teiresias bade me go forth to full many cities of men, bearing a shapely oar in my hands, till I should come to men that know naught of the sea, and eat not of food mingled with salt; aye, and they know naught of ships with purple cheeks, or of shapely oars that serve as wings to ships. And he told me this sign, right manifest; nor will I hide it from thee. When another wayfarer, on meeting me, should say that I had a winnowing fan on my stout shoulder, then he bade me fix my oar in the earth, and make goodly offerings to Lord Poseidon—a ram and a bull and a boar, that mates with sows—and depart for my home, and offer sacred hecatombs to the immortal Gods, who hold broad heaven, to each one in due order. And death shall come to me myself far from the sea, a death so gentle, that shall lay me low, when I am overcome with sleek old age, and my people shall dwell in prosperity around me. All this, he said, should I see fulfilled.” (Homer, Odyssey 23.263-284)

Particularly relevant in light of this post, winnowing is a method of separating the wheat from the chaff, as Wikipedia discusses here:

Wind winnowing is an agricultural method developed by ancient cultures for separating grain from straw. It can also be used to remove pests from stored grain. Winnowing usually follows threshing in grain preparation. In its simplest form it involves throwing the mixture into the air so that the wind blows away the lighter chaff, while the heavier grains fall back down for recovery. Techniques included using a winnowing fan (a shaped basket shaken to raise the chaff) or using a tool (a winnowing fork or shovel) on a pile of harvested grain. 

Regarding the winnowing fan, Servius (in his commentary on Vergil’s Georgics 1.65) writes:

The mystic fan of Iacchus, that is the sieve of the threshing-floor. He calls it the mystic fan of Iacchus because the rites of Father Liber had reference to the purification of the soul, and men are purified in his mysteries as grain is purified by fans. It is because of this that Isis is said to have placed the limbs of Osiris, when they had been torn to pieces by Typhon, on a sieve, for Father Liber is the same person. Whence also he is called Liber, because he liberates, and it is he whom Orpheus said was torn asunder by the Giants. Some add that Father Liber was called by the Greeks Liknites. Moreover the fan is called by them liknon, in which he was placed after being delivered from his mother’s womb. Others explain its being called ‘mystic’ by saying that the liknon is a wicker vessel in which peasants, because it was of large size, used to heap their first-fruits and consecrate it to Liber and Libera. 

Jane Ellen Harrison had a good deal more to say about this object in an article published in the Journal of Hellenic Studies vol. 23, available here; here is an alternative hypothesis worth considering. 

Speaking of Óðr, I’ve encountered some interesting theories about him in my studies recently.

Most scholars tend to view him as a strange double or Vanic counterpart of Óðinn associated with creative and battle frenzy, shapeshifting, shamanic ordeals and otherworldly journeys.

However a number of Neopagan authors apparently regard him as the God of the Summer Sun, and specifically heat, vitality, fertility and rejuvenation, with his absence in Winter prompting Freyja to go in search of him.

Something about that really resonates, although I’m not sure their arguments necessarily hold up to scrutiny. Then again, so little has come down in the lore concerning Óðr that most arguments end up being fairly speculative, mine included. (This is where being an Orpheotelest and mantis really comes in handy.) 

I have always loved this song by Sigur Rós:

The aural world it conjures is just … *shivers* Ah, yeah.

And because of the stunning visuals I included the video on numerous playlists for Dionysos, even before I started tapping into the Black Sun current. (It has obviously taken on added significance since then.) But I don’t think I ever bothered looking up the lyrics – which, as it turns out, are just as relevant.

Brennisteinn

Við skerum á
Augnaráð
Nú stingur í
Ofbirta
Nú bræða óf
Endalok
Svo flæðir inn
Dagsbirta
Nú teygir sig og togar
Og togna út við örmunum [Vonlenska]
Reyna að móttaka [Vonlenska]
Og brestu yfir hrapa stað
Rennur blóð í æðum
Í skinninu
Yðar á
Krækir klónum í
Og klórar í
Nú teygir sig og togar
Og togna út við örmunum [Vonlenska]
Reyna að móttaka [Vonlenska]
Og brestu yfir hrapa stað
Reisum mér búkinn
Hryggjasúlan æðu
Rennur blóð í æðum
Ekki segja neinum frá
Ekki segja neinum frá
Ekki segja neinum frá
Ekki segja neinum frá
Ekki segja neinum frá
Ekki segja neinum frá
Nú teygir sig og togar
Og togna út við örmunum [Vonlenska]
Reyna að móttaka [Vonlenska]
Og brestu yfir hrapa stað
Reisum mér búkinn
Hryggjasúlan æðu
Rennur blóð í æðum

Which, when Englished, becomes:

Sulfur

We plunge in
A glance
Then strikes
A blinding light
Then they melt
The end
And flows in
The daylight
Now it drags and pulls
And tears out every particle
Joints ache
And crack, they are dislocated
Blood runs in the veins
In the skin
Your (skin)
It digs its claws
And lacerates
Now it drags and pulls
And tears out every particle
Joints ache
And crack, they are dislocated
We raise our bowed bodies
The spine we straighten
Blood runs in the veins
Don’t tell anyone
Don’t tell anyone
Don’t tell anyone
Don’t tell anyone
Don’t tell anyone
Don’t tell anyone
Now it drags and pulls
And tears out every particle
Joints ache
And crack, they are dislocated
We raise our bowed bodies
The spine we straighten
Blood runs in the veins

Pure gold, man.

And the word Vonlenska? It means:

Vonlenska (Eng: Hopelandic) is a term coined by the band to refer to the vocalizations that Jónsi sings in lieu of lyrics in Icelandic or English. It takes its name from “Von”, a song on Sigur Rós’s debut album Von where it was first used. However, not all Sigur Rós songs are in Hopelandic; many are sung in Icelandic.

Vonlenska differs from both natural and constructed languages used for human communication. It consists of strings of meaningless syllables containing non-lexical vocables and phonemes. There is no grammatical relation between or among syllables, nor are they accompanied by clearly defined word boundaries. Vonlenska emphasizes the phonological and emotive qualities of human vocalizations, and it uses the melodic and rhythmic elements of singing without the conceptual content of language. In this way, it is similar to the use of scat singing in vocal jazz and puirt à beul in traditional Scottish and Irish folk music. The band’s website describes it as “a form of gibberish vocals that fits to the music”. It is similar in concept to the ethereal vocals used by Cocteau Twins singer Elizabeth Fraser in the 1980s and 1990s. Many of the syllable strings sung by Jónsi are repeated many times throughout each song, and sometimes throughout the whole album.

Óðr’s poetry.

Ονομα Βάκχος
“I am Bakchos.”

893
800 + 90 + 3
8/93

2 = Beta
1 = Alpha
20 = Kappa
600 = Chi
70 = Omicron
200 = Sigma

The Etruscan trembled before the Stranger, saying “Who are you? How are you called?”

And he replied:

Who I am is a mystery, but how I am called is easy enough to discern.

Begin with the bountiful dyad, the union of male and female.
And add another one in the shape of a bull’s head or tripod.
Kindly, then, place ten and ten more rods in the bundle.
CHoicest hekatombs offer six times over, giving back to the givers.
Of gleaming honey-wine seven measures should be poured out, ten times.
See the sacrificial blade, that resembles the number two hundred.

Put these all together and you have 893, the value of my name.

PALACE OF EXILE
by Jim Morrison

For seven years I dwelt in the loose palace of exile
Playing strange games with the girls of the island
Now I have come again to the land of the fair
And the strong, and the wise

Brothers and sisters of the pale forest, children of night
Who among you will run with the hunt?

Now night arrives with her purple legion
Retire now to your tents and to your dreams
Tomorrow we enter the town of my birth
I want to be ready

If a fawn-skin can be so polyvalent, why assume that an earthquake or a viral pandemic can mean just one thing and one thing only?

The stories we share, and what we believe about them, matter.

Be careful, folks. The China virus isn’t the only one circulating.

While I dig the cosmic connotations the Orphics gave the nebris, it can mean many different things to different people.

For instance, it can be a symbol of personal liberation:

Edith and I are Maenads now with a “longing for the hills & ecstasy.” Let Frances expect to see me at the midland station with cone-pointed thyrsos & fawn-skin. Tell him I shall walk to Lindelhurst in this array. He need not think of hiding my originality in a fly! (Katherine Harris Bradley to the family of Frances Brooks in a letter dated 1882)

Of jubilant procession:

That Osiris is identical with Dionysos who could more fittingly know than yourself, Klea? For you lead the Thyiadic dances at Delphi and have been consecrated by your father and mother in the holy rites of Osiris. If, however, for the benefit of others it is needful to adduce proofs of this identity, let us leave undisturbed what may not be told, but the public ceremonies which the priests perform in the burial of the Apis, when they convey his body on an improvised bier, do not in any way come short of a Bacchic procession; for they fasten skins of fawns about themselves, and carry Bacchic wands and indulge in shoutings and movements exactly as do those who are under the spell of the Dionysiac ecstasies. (Plutarch, On Isis and Osiris 35)

Or of destructive transformation:

On the road from Megara there is a spring on the right, and a little farther on a rock. It is called the bed of Aktaion, for it is said that he slept thereon when weary with hunting, and that into this spring he looked while Artemis was bathing with her nymphs. Stesichoros of Himera says that the Goddess cast a deer-skin round Aktaion to make sure that his hounds would kill him, so as to prevent his taking Semele to wife. (Pausanias, Description Greece 9.2.3)

The bit from Stesichoros is interesting, and not just for the crime he ascribes to Pentheus’ cousin Aktaion. (I’ll let that one settle in for a moment.) 

Himera is not far from Syracuse and Tyndaris, which held interesting celebrations for the Huntress, according to the Anonymous Life of Theokritos 1b:

Others says that bucolic poetry was first performed at Tyndaris in Sicily. When Orestes took the image of Artemis away from Tauris in Scythia, he received an oracle, that he should wash himself in seven rivers flowing from one source. Therefore Orestes went to Rhegium in Italy, and washed away the curse in the so-called “separated” rivers. Then he crossed over to Tyndaris in Sicily, where the inhabitants sang their local songs in honour of the Goddess, and this was the origin of the tradition. They say that when the men sang, they prepared a loaf with many images of wild animals on it, a pouch full of all kinds of seeds, and wine in a goatskin, to pour out as an offering for those they met. They wore a garland, with the antlers of a deer on their head, and a staff in their hands. The victor in the contest received the loaf of the man he had vanquished; and the victor remained in the city of Syracuse, while the losers went out to the surrounding villages to collect food for themselves. They sang songs full of fun and laughter, and added the following propitious words:

Receive good fortune,
Receive good health,
Which we bring from the Goddess,
Which she has commanded.

 

Here’s a fun site while you are socially isolating:

https://earthquaketrack.com/

Did you know that there have been:

136 earthquakes in the past 24 hours
1,027 earthquakes in the past 7 days
4,802 earthquakes in the past 30 days
63,829 earthquakes in the past 365 days

Neat!