My name is not just an expression of who I am, but has served as an infallible guide through the maddening twists and turns of my spiritual life. For instance, I’ve only been doing and talking about Starry Bear stuff for a couple of years now, right? Well, I actually found one of the first breadcrumbs that would eventually lead here almost a decade ago:

For instance, Sannion the son of Megakles (SEG 43.767), who lived in the Thrakian Chersonesos during the early Hellenistic era, was a prominent citizen of his town and the burial stelai of several generations of his family have come to light. His wife was named Mendiko, which is taken as a theophoric honoring Bendis (the letters B and M tend to get swapped out in the local dialect) whose cult was closely allied with that of Dionysos and Sabazios and involved ecstatic dances, trance possession and torchlit processions at night. The fondness of Sannion’s family for Dionysos went far beyond that – he named his sons Dionysios and Apollonios, with Dionysios recurring several times down through the generations.

The most recent editors of the Sannion family stelai gave an interpretation of the name which was novel to me. They derived it from the Greek word saino which means “to fawn upon; flattery” and suggested it was a derogatory term for a sycophant. The sukophantes was a servile position in the court of Greek monarchs; he was a toady and yes-man whose job it was to praise everything the king said and provide entertainment – usually of a low and vulgar nature. In fact the word derives from sukon (“fig”) and phaino (“I show, demonstrate”), referring to “showing the fig,” a gesture made by sticking the thumb between the first two fingers which has certain obvious sexual connotations. In other words he was a court jester. This is interesting for reasons that will become apparent momentarily; I also find it interesting, of course, because of my great fondness for the Ptolemaic Dynasty. You wouldn’t be far off the mark if you called me the Ptolemies’ sycophant.

Regarding Sannion’s hometown, Linda Maria Gigante writes:

Ancient Chersonesos Taurike is located on the western Crimean Peninsula along the northern Black Sea coast (present-day Ukraine). It was founded in the later 5th century BC by Greek settlers, probably from Herakleia Pontica and Boeotian Delion. Chersonesos’ growth and prosperity were primarily due to wine-production and its political structure was democratic. Probably because of a Scythian attack in the early 3rd century BC, new fortifications were built (mid 3rd – 2nd BC), enlarging the city. To build the walls, particularly the inner wall of Tower #17 (Tower of Zeno), more than 800 painted grave stelai and other monuments were removed from a nearby necropolis and, in many cases, carefully broken, laid in layers, and placed in conformity with their original location.

Although much of my focus has been on the Ukraine and neighboring territories where Bacchic cults flourished:

The Budini are a great and populous nation; the eyes of them all are bright blue, and they are ruddy. They have a city built of wood, called Gelonus. The wall of it is three and three quarters miles in length on each side of the city; this wall is high and all of wood; and their houses are wooden, and their temples; for there are temples of Greek Gods among them, furnished in Greek style with images and altars and shrines of wood; and they honor Dionysos every two years with festivals and revelry. (Herodotos, The Histories 4.108)

The southern portion of the Black Sea also holds some significance for the tradition, being the home of Medeia and Kírkē, after all.

And also the Sanni. 

Regarding this population and their territory Pliny the Elder (Natural History 6.4.1) writes:

Then come the rivers Tasonius and Melanthius, and 80 miles from Amisus the town of Pharnacea, the fortress and river Tripolis, the fortress and river Philocalia and the fortress of Liviopolis, which is not on a river, and 100 miles from Pharnacea the free town of Trebizond, shut in by a vast mountain range. Beyond Trebizond begins the Armenochalybes tribe, and 30 miles further Greater Armenia. On the coast before reaching Trebizond is the river Pyxites, and beyond Trebizond the Charioteer Sanni, and the river Absarrus with the fortress of the same name in its gorge, 140 miles from Trapezus. Behind the mountains of this dis­trict is Liberia, and on the coast the Charioteers, the Ampreutae and the Lazi, the rivers Acampseon, Isis, Mogrus and Bathys, the Colchian tribes, the town of Matium, the River of Heracles and the cape of the same name, and the Rion, the most celebrated river of the Black Sea region. The Rion rises among the Moschi and is navigable for ships of any size for 38½ miles, and a long way further for smaller vessels; it is crossed by 120 bridges. It had a considerable number of towns on its banks, the most notable being Tyndaris, Circaeus, Cygnus, and at its mouth Phasis; but the most famous was Aea, 15 miles from the sea, where two very large tributaries join the Rion from opposite directions, the Hippos and the Cyaneos. At the present day the only town on the Rion is Surium, which itself also takes its name from a river that enters the Rion at the point up to which we said that it is navigable for large vessels. It also receives other tributaries remarkable for their size and number, among them the Glaucus; at its mouth is an island with no name, 70 miles from the mouth of the Absarrus. Then there is another river, the Charicis, the Saltiae tribe called of old the Pine-seed-eaters, and another tribe, the Sanni; the river Chobus flowing from the Caucasus through the Suani territory; then Rhoan, the Cegritic district, the rivers Sigania, Thersos, Astelphus and Chrysorrhoas, the Absilae tribe, the fortress of Sebastopol 100 miles from Phasis, the Sanicae tribe, the town of Cygnus, the river and town of Penius; and then tribes of the Charioteers with a variety of names.

Note that they have a settlement called Liberia (city of Liber = Dionysos, whose festival the Liberalia celebrated the God’s discovery of bees and honey) and that one of their tribes was named the Pine-seed Eaters, pine of course being sacred to the God and good for bees. Then there is the Glaucus River, which naturally reminds one of Ariadne’s other, blue-grey brother.

But Glaucus, while he was yet a child, in chasing a mouse fell into a jar of honey and was drowned. On his disappearance Minos made a great search and consulted diviners as to how he should find him. The Curetes told him that in his herds he had a cow of three different colors, and that the man who could best describe that cow’s color would also restore his son to him alive. So when the diviners were assembled, Polyidus, son of Coeranus, compared the color of the cow to the fruit of the bramble, and being compelled to seek for the child he found him by means of a sort of divination. But Minos declaring that he must recover him alive, he was shut up with the dead body. And while he was in great perplexity, he saw a serpent going towards the corpse. He threw a stone and killed it, fearing to be killed himself if any harm befell the body. But another serpent came, and, seeing the former one dead, departed, and then returned bringing a herb, and placed it on the whole body of the other; and no sooner was the herb so placed upon it than the dead serpent came to life. Surprised at this sight, Polyidus applied the same herb to the body of Glaucus and raised him from the dead. (Apollodoros, The Library 3.3.1)

This makes me think of mad-honey (and Hybla, for some reason) which just so happens to be what the Sanni were famed for:

There is another kind of honey, found in the same district of Pontus among the people called Sanni, which from the madness it produces is called maenomenon. This poison is supposed to be extracted from the flowers of the oleanders which abound in the woods. Though these people supply the Romans with wax by way of tribute, the honey, because of its deadly nature, they do not sell. (Pliny the Elder, Natural History 21.45.1)

In fact, it was one of their most potent weapons, as Strabo describes in his Geography (12.3.18):

I have already described Colchis and the coast which lies above it. About Trapezus and Pharnacia are situated the Tibarani and Chaldaei and Sanni, in earlier times called Macrones, and Lesser Armenia; and the Appaitae, in earlier times called the Cercitae, are fairly close to these regions. Two mountains cross the country of these people, not only the Scydises, a very rugged mountain, which joins the Moschian Mountains above Colchis (its heights are occupied by the Heptacomitae), but also the Paryadres, which extends from the region of Sidene and Themiscyra to Lesser Armenia and forms the eastern side of Pontus. Now all these peoples who live in the mountains are utterly savage, but the Heptacomitae are worse than the rest. Some also live in trees or turrets; and it was on this account that the ancients called them “Mosynoeci,” the turrets being called mosyni. They live on the flesh of wild animals and on nuts; and they also attack wayfarers, leaping down upon them from their scaffolds. The Heptacomitae cut down three maniples of Pompey’s army when they were passing through the mountainous country; for they mixed bowls of the crazing honey which is yielded by the tree-twigs, and placed them in the roads, and then, when the soldiers drank the mixture and lost their senses, they attacked them and easily disposed of them.

A savage race (even by the standards of other barbarians) who live on the flesh of wild beasts and use mad-honey to intoxicate and then murder their enemies – that sure sounds like the kind of people who would venerate the Frenzied God!

This also calls to mind the method employed by Zeus to defeat and unman his father – which has always made me suspect that in the Anatolian original of this myth Dionysos also used honey:

In him there had been resistless might, and a fierceness of disposition beyond control, a lust made furious, and derived from both sexes. He violently plundered and laid waste; he scattered destruction wherever the ferocity of his disposition had led him; he regarded not Gods nor men, nor did he think anything more powerful than himself; he contemned earth, heaven, and the stars. Now, when it had been often considered in the councils of the Gods, by what means it might be possible either to weaken or to curb his audacity, Liber, the rest hanging back, takes upon himself this task. With the strongest wine he drugs a spring much resorted to by Acdestis where he had been wont to assuage the heat and burning thirst roused in him by sport and hunting. Hither runs Acdestis to drink when he felt the need; he gulps down the draught too greedily into his gaping veins. Overcome by what he is quite unaccustomed to, he is in consequence sent fast asleep. Liber is near the snare which he had set; over his foot he throws one end of a halter formed of hairs, woven together very skilfully; with the other end he lays hold of his privy members. When the fumes of the wine passed off, Acdestis starts up furiously, and his foot dragging the noose, by his own strength he robs himself of his sex; with the tearing asunder of these parts there is an immense flow of blood; both are carried off and swallowed up by the earth; from them there suddenly springs up, covered with fruit, a pomegranate tree. (Arnobius of Sicca, Against the Heathen 5.5-6)

But I digress. 

 

There are also two periods when Dionysos feels most Óðr-like to me – the first stretching roughly from November 11th to January 6th and the second running from April 1st to June 24th.

When it comes time for a Starry Bear calendar I’ll probably cluster his festivals accordingly.

Or, you know, Bacchize the various folk Catholic feast-days that fall within those time-spans.

Hmm.

Maybe I could alternate – one year Starry Bull, the following Starry Bear; Starry Bull, Starry Bear; Starry Bull, Starry Bear, etc. 

An attendee at our recent Lenaia celebration had an interesting question for me, “If we are calling Dionysos up from the underworld then how has he been able to interact with us these last couple months?”

According to the Bakcheion calendar Dionysos spends the Black Season, roughly from October to December, under the Earth resting in the lap of the Chthonic Queen. During this period he feasts with his deceased initiates, wearing the mask of the Fool. Much of this time is also spent in slumber, recovering from Oschophoria – the autumn harvest-fest where our Bull God is chased down and dismembered by his adversary, the Wolf Apollo. While he sleeps he dreams of his raucous and absurd adventures among the Harlequinade. 

This is the hieros logos (sacred account) and nomos (custom; law) of our temple; there are folks within our own Starry Bull tradition (let alone the wider Dionysian and Hellenic polytheist communities) who believe and worship very differently. And as long as it fosters authentic connection with him there’s nothing wrong with that. 

As a God Dionysos may also choose to interact with individuals and groups however he pleases*; furthermore, because of his particular form of madness Dionysos experiences time, space and reality very differently than we (and even many of his fellow Gods) do. All of the myths, legends and historical events in which he has taken part (and their various permutations) are occurring for him simultaneously. 

Our calendar is an attempt to take that infinite flux and express it in an orderly and linear manner, albeit one with cyclical recurrences. Each of our festivals flow into each other, forming an overarching narrative which is further reflected in our system of seasonal associations. It is elegant and effective and even more importantly was born out of our experiences with him. 

While Dionysos possesses complete autonomy and agency nevertheless certain patterns can be observed in his behavior. For some reason Dionysos tends to feel distant and diffuse after fall and into early winter; some describe him as cold, aloof, regal, chthonic, and even distracted or altogether absent at this time. Others get a weird, wild, playful, somewhat sinister Dionysos come through in ritual, dreams, visions and personal encounters with him. Over the years I’ve had both, sometimes even merging together into a complex if contradictory figure. And so we represent this with the Black Season of our year, and the festivals that fall during it. 

Ever since the first of January we have been in the White Season, where Dionysos acts out the role of the Magician come from a strange and distant land, bringing wonders and radical transformation in his wake. He knows the songs and ceremonies to awaken and release, and he is followed by a triumphant procession of Nymphs and Satyrs whose ecstatic revelry chases off barrenness, stagnation and malignant or at least mischievous Spirits from the land and his people.  

And we greet him in this form for the first time at Lenaia. 

* It is also possible that during the Black Season we are only encountering the dream-form or eidolon of Dionysos, projected out into the world above while he remains comatose below.  

Alright, I take back all the shitty things I’ve said and thought about Missouri as they have formally reinstalled Ceres. Good on them. I still hope Representative Mike Moon and his family are afflicted with some sort of starving madness which won’t end until they don hairshirts and crawl on bloodied knees to the Capitol to propitiate the Goddess, however. I’m old school about these things. 

Anyone got a spare $20,200? I’d really like this statue of Dionysos by Ukrainian artist Andrey Ozyumenko for the Bakcheion. 

Although the Hudson Valley Bakcheion held our Lenaia celebration over the weekend, today’s the official start of the festival, so I wish y’all blessed and ecstatic communion with the Lord of the Vine and Frenzy, as he is roused from his wintry slumber in the Halls of Persephone and called forth to join us, flower-crowned, at Anthesteria. 

 

One of the reasons that this whole situation with Iran concerned me enough to write about it here is that I’m developing an appreciation for some of her Pre-Islamic faiths and their influence on the Indo-European family of religions. A lot of this is relevant to Starry Bear stuff – so do consider giving the links a read. 

• Constantine Borissoff, Non-Iranian origin of the Eastern-Slavonic god Xŭrsŭ/Xors
• Caspar Meyer, Iranians and Greeks After 90 Years: A Religious History of Southern Russia in Ancient Times
• Jennifer Black, Parthian Rhyta at Home and Abroad: Reconsidering the Ivory Rhyta of Nisa in Light of Roman Evidence from the First Century BCE
• Stanislaw Sielicki, Indo-Iranian parallels of the Slavic water rites of the oath and guilt confirmation attested in Medieval Latin accounts and Slavic law codices
• Jonas Wellendorf, Zoroaster, Saturn and Óðinn: The loss of language and the rise of idolatry
• George Hinge, Dionysos and Herakles in Scythia ‒ The Eschatological String of Herodotos’ Book 4
• Amir Ahmadi, The magoi and daimones in Column VI of the Derveni Papyrus
• Damon Zacharias Lycourinos, Those Who Wander in the Night: Magoi Amongst the Hellenes
• Andrei V . Lebedev, Pharnabazos the diviner of Hermes, plausible author of the Orphic-Pythagorean graffiti from Olbia
• Yulia Ustinova, Aphrodite Ourania of the Bosporus: The Great Goddess of a Frontier Pantheon
• Zaur Hasanov, A Reflection of the Cimmerian and Scythian Religious Rites in Archaeology
• Leland Guthrie, Death and Sacrifice as Transformation and Fecundation in the Ecological Mythos of the Scytho-Siberian Nomads
• Manya Saadi Nejad, Rehabilitating the Pairikās: Fairies in Iranian mythology

 

In the Nyktelios post (paraphrasing the arguments I set forth here) I made the following comparison:

… much as the Egyptian solar deity Rē fuses with Osiris in the Duat.

I discussed the question of whether Dionysos = Osiris in the piece Mighty Bull of the Two Lands, however it wasn’t until this article that I came to a satisfactory solution. (At least for myself.)

It takes time to put the pieces together, and in true bricolage fashion the story changes depending on how you arrange them.

An older piece on reconstructionism. My views have shifted somewhat but the article largely holds up I think. 

I was recently asked where I stood on the reconstructionist spectrum; whether I thought one should adhere as strictly as possible to the traditional approach or if there is some value in modern divergent practices and beliefs.

To answer that question I will invoke the words of the sixth century Greek poet Theognis of Megara: “Kyrnos, ever remember that the middle course is best.” Several centuries later, the philosopher Aristotle wrote in the Ethics that every virtue is the mean or middle ground between two extremes: thus courage is where cowardice (too little confidence) and rashness (too much) meet; justice the balance between harsh judgment and indulgent mercy; and true friendship lies is neither being too surly nor given too much to flattery. Plutarch later took this approach and applied it to religion in his treatise On Superstition, saying that proper piety was the middle ground between an excessive fear of the supernatural on the one hand, and atheistic indifference on the other.

In that light, I believe that one should hold to the middle course when it comes to religious practice. I believe that there is value in the ancient way, and that we should understand what a given practice meant to the people who performed it. Most of us come from a culture that has been cut off from its roots. We are wandering in a confusing world without direction, and anchoring ourselves to the past can lend depth and meaning to our lives and our religious practice. Often even the simplest ritual action was embedded with a volume of complex meaning, at once poetic and practical, and the key to understanding what that says and can mean to us today lies in studying the ancient cultures and beliefs which produced these profound revelations. It is often difficult work, and requires lots of study and reflection and sometimes cannot be done without first divesting ourselves of our modern prejudices – but if we approach this humbly and with an earnest desire to unravel its deeper meaning, we will often be surprised at the profundity that we discover beneath the surface. Once that has been found, and its value is felt to speak to our lives across the centuries, we should hold to it as strongly as we can. After all, the ancients knew what they were doing, and there’s no sense in reinventing the wheel if something worked and worked well for centuries. When an act is repeated for so long, a certain power accrues to it and if you can tap into that power your rituals will be all the more effective for that. Additionally, it is a way of showing respect – to all the generations who came before us, as well as to the Gods themselves, who found such forms of devotion pleasing in the centuries past. For those reasons, I believe that it is important to hold onto tradition.

But there is a danger in being too conservative in this respect. One of my fundamental beliefs (admittedly indebted to Protestant theology) is that religion begins and ends with the individual and their experience of the divine. Everything that helps deepen and cement that experience is good: whatever impedes it (even if in other contexts it’s a positive) is bad. Ritual that becomes formulaic, recited by rote with no emotional investment, is a poor substitute for actual experience of the divine. Rejecting your own experiences in order to bring yourself into conformity with the experiences and beliefs of others sets up a barrier between yourself and the divine which can become spiritually destructive over time, especially when this conformity is imposed upon you from the outside. Christianity began on Pentecost, when the holy spirit descended on the disheartened followers of the recently deceased Jesus. This was an ecstatic and liberating epiphany of the divine presence and its love for mankind, and had this element of the religion persisted, history would have been very different. But instead, people began to revere institutions, began to argue about what the disciples had felt on that day instead of seeking to feel it themselves, began to suppress all the views that didn’t agree with their own, often resorting to terrorism and murder to enforce their views on their fellow Christians, and today, most people place their worship in an infallible book instead of the fountain of divinity from which it found expression.

I would like to think that we can learn from the past and avoid this error today. That we in the various polytheistic religions can continue to open ourselves to divine revelation, continue to feel the presence of the Gods however it chooses to manifest itself, that we won’t try to straight-jacket the Gods and limit the ways that they reveal themselves to us or to other people, and that we can remain open to the unfolding nature of tradition, which did not cease at some arbitrary point in history, but continues to renew itself in the lives of all of us who hold to the blessed immortal ones.

Additionally, just because the ancients knew a great deal, and developed forms of worship that were beautiful and profound and lasted for centuries, does not mean that they knew everything. Human progress has made astounding developments over the centuries and I feel that it would be foolish to turn our backs on that. While there was much that is noble and commendable about ancient civilization, there is also a great deal such as slavery, misogyny, and racial intolerance which I feel deserves to be left to the dustbin of history. Nor do I have any intention of giving up my internet or refrigeration just because the ancients lacked these things. I am not interested in some sort of SCA reenactment of antiquity – nor, for the record is any other reconstructionist that I have ever had the pleasure of meeting, despite the bullshit apologetics of some of our detractors – but rather of taking the best from antiquity and implementing that in our lives today.

Ancient religion was rooted in the lives and environment of the people who practiced it. When they were primarily nomadic hunter-gatherers, their religion centered on protection and increasing the herds. When the people moved into settled agrarian communities, they adopted Gods who could promote the growth of vegetation and fertility in general. As they developed more complex social organization, and began sending out traders, colonists, and war parties, there were Gods to look after these concerns too. Now that we live in fast-paced, industrialized, urban settings, the Gods have not abandoned us. They are still here, sharing their blessings with us, looking after us, revealing ever new aspects of themselves to us. So there is no need to hold to some romanticized vision of the past – there are spirits of parks and empty streets, of concrete and electricity, of bondage clubs and day-traders. These and all the old Gods are here with us today – we have merely to recognize them and find the best ways to worship them. Sometimes the old ways are the best ways, but sometimes whole new models need to be devised. And thus I believe that we should be open to innovation.

Sometimes this can be in the form of adapting ancient forms of worship. Most reconstructionists do not have the benefit of large local communities with which to worship. Thus it’s rather difficult to hold huge processions, make lavish sacrifices of a hundred oxen, or visit the temple of your city’s God. So most of us often have to scale things back to the private, household level. It’s made even more difficult when there are gaps in our knowledge of how a given festival was celebrated in antiquity. In the case of ancient Greece we possess a stunning wealth of material – especially compared to our compatriots in the Norse or Celtic traditions – but even here you will often find gaping holes in our knowledge, either because we possess only a couple off-hand comments about a given festival, the information highly contradicts itself, or the sources are tucked away in obscure academic journals that most of us can’t get our hands on. Faced with such a situation, perfect reconstruction is impossible, and we must make adaptations, sometimes considerable ones. I believe that it’s okay to do so – provided the spirit of the festival is preserved. If one makes so many changes that the essential message becomes corrupted and all the important details are left out, it’s intellectually dishonest to represent what you’re doing as being consistent with ancient practice. On the other hand, finding a novel way to communicate the same thing, even if the details differ in some small regard, is perfectly acceptable.

At that point, I think it’s important to remember that at least in the case of ancient Greece, there were wide divergences of practice from city-state to city-state, with each one possessing its own unique festival cycle. I think more people should work on coming up with festival cycles of their own, which commemorate important events in their city’s history, the local agricultural cycle, or which honor seminal passages in their own spiritual life. Amazing things can be done in this direction by following the ancient calendars as a rough template and using the information we have on the festival rituals to inspire the creation of new ones.

Additionally, I believe that it’s important to find ways to honor the Gods’ presence in our lives, and I don’t think that we should limit ourselves to ancient practice in order to do so. People have come up with a whole range of devotional activities that are entirely modern yet are nevertheless quite effective ways to honor the Gods and help us focus on their presence. Others still seek to honor the ancient Greek Gods within a totally modern context, such as Wicca, Ceremonial Magick, or Neopagan Druidry. While such things aren’t my own preferred method of worship, I see no problem with them whatsoever, since they are clearly effective means of worship, and the people are always upfront about the modern nature of their groups. I object only when something is passed off for what it so clearly is not i.e. doing modern shit and calling it ancient.

In keeping with the theme of this piece, however, it might be worth pointing out what I consider to be the dangers of taking a modern, improvisational approach too far. And please note the too far. I don’t believe that everyone who steps down that path is going to fall into the snares, or necessarily take it to its illogical conclusion. But it never hurts to point out these things and consider their implications.

The first danger lies in emphasizing personal experience and revelation too much. When you completely throw out tradition and communal standards, and make yourself the sole arbiter of all things, it’s very easy to fall into a pit of self-delusion, stagnation, and solipstic spiritual masturbation. Such people mistake their desires and fantasies for reality; their every whim becomes a divine commandment, and the Gods get reduced to nothing more than abstract concepts within their own imagination. It is important to look outside of yourself, to engage with objective reality, to have an Other – be it an intellectual construct or actual people – to offer checks and balances, to contrast yourself with, to inspire you to improve and grow. I know that this is especially the case with me. Left to my own devices, I would never do anything. I’m horribly lazy and prone to every vice under the sun. But conceiving of the Gods as something external, as beings with their own unique desires and demands, encourages me to action, since it is through outward-focused action that I can best serve and please them. Having that external focus as something to strive for, when I do step out of my comfort zone and apply myself it is far more rewarding than when I give in to lethargy. By being involved with others, I can curb my own excesses, which if indulged, would bring me great suffering. I need people to tell me when I’m stepping over a line, when I’m acting like a dick, when I’m not seeing something that’s abundantly clear to everyone else. And embracing tradition also gives me impetus for my own creative efforts. It encourages me to think about things in a different light, it gives me solid ground to push myself off of so that I can soar to the heavens, it provides a whole stock of metaphors and terminology and transcendent images to imbue my work with, so that it can speak to more people than just myself. And by following in the footsteps of others, I can go places that I never thought imaginable, since I don’t have to constantly cut a new swath for myself, but can tread the well-worn path and use my creative talents to improve upon it.

And one area in particular where I benefit from an engagement with the past is in ritual. When I first started off in Wicca, lo those many years ago, I was firmly indoctrinated with the whole do your own thing and constantly invent things from scratch approach. I would change everything about the rituals every time I did them. I would incorporate whatever element caught my fancy, even though I possessed only the most superficial understanding of how it worked, and often not even that. And for several years I languished spiritually. I felt cast adrift, disconnected from the Gods. I had a marvelously novel practice, but it meant nothing to me. It got me nowhere. Even though I practiced Wicca for several years, I always felt like a newbie, like I was just starting out. And in so many ways, I was. But then I began to study Hellenismos. I kept the same basic steps in all of my rituals – even though there was plenty of room for innovation – and I built up a routine, one that became so familiar it was like second nature to me. Without even thinking about it I could go through all the steps, I could recite the ritual phrases off the top of my head, I could use it as the basis for spontaneous rituals that I do on the spot whenever the feeling takes hold of me. Since my mind was no longer engaged with such minute details, I could let it flow during ritual, noticing certain nuances to the actions and words that I had always missed out on beforehand. I could focus on the sensations – the smell of incense, the feeling of the heat from the candle against my skin, the sound of the music or my words echoing in my ears, the sight of the shadows playing against the contours of the statue – and I began to feel the presence of the Gods more strongly in all these things and other areas besides. None of that was possible when I was changing things around all the time. And as I said, there is still plenty of room for innovation. I can use different incenses or music or change the types of offerings I give, I can recite different poetry or hymns, I can follow through all the steps or skip some, I can add more ornate steps to the procedure or develop something completely new based on the rough skeletal outline. But at its heart, the worship is the same, and the heart is what matters.

When it comes down to it, I don’t feel that either description – traditionalist or modernist – truly represents my practice. On the one hand, I’m not slavishly devoted to the old ways, and plenty of what I do has a totally modern origin or is rooted in my present experiences. But on the other hand, there is a solid basis for my practice, I’m not chasing after every fleeting fancy or having to start from scratch each time, and I am deeply engaged with the ancient spirit of my religion. So, instead I tend to describe my practice as trisodos or a “third way”, one that exists at the intersection of two extremes and leads off in a totally different direction. The heart is old, the expression it takes is new. 

Lately I’ve been thinking and talking a lot about the Pythagoreans, particularly with regard to their connections with the North.

But they were also pretty important in the South. In fact there was a lot of crossover between the Orphic and Pythagorean communities in Magna Graecia and we know that a number of the latter wrote books under Orpheus’ name, especially when their political plans fell apart and the neighboring communities began a systematic purge – indeed they may have thought that such duplicity was the only means of preserving their master’s teachings. (Though, ironically, it is sometimes claimed that Pythagoras was the first author of Orphika.) By and large the Pythagoreans were adherents of metempsychosis and vegetarianism (except in the case of soldiers, athletes and others who required a more robust diet; Pythagoras is said to have sacrificed an ox after making an important mathematical discovery) so when we do see a rare instance of this ascribed to Orpheus and his followers in all probability it’s coming from a Pythagorean source who’s trying to pass or at least an Orphic who was influenced by the Samian’s teachings.

Anyway, here are some quotes that’ll give you a sense of what I mean. 

Cicero, On the Nature of the Gods 1.107

Aristotle says that Orpheus never existed, and it is common opinion that this Orphic poem is by one Cercops, a Pythagorean; but Orpheus, that is, his image as you prefer to say, is frequently present in my spirit.

Clement of Alexandria, Stromateis 1.21.131

To be sure, Onomacritus the Athenian, whose work the poems ascribed to Orpheus are said to be, lived during the reign of the Peisistratids around the time of the fiftieth Olympiad, but Orpheus, who sailed with Heracles, was the teacher of Musaeus. For Amphion preceded the Trojan War by two generations, and Demodocus and Phemius were famous kitharodes after the capture of Troy, the former among the Phaeacians, the latter among the suitors. They say that the oracles ascribed to Musaeus are really by Onomacritus, that the Krater of Orpheus is by Zopyrus of Heraclea, and the Katabasis to Hades is the work of Prodicus the Samian. But Ion of Chios in the Triagmoi says that Pythagoras, too, attributed some of his own works to Orpheus. But Epigenes, in his On the Poetry Ascribed to Orpheus, says that the Katabasis to Hades and the Sacred Discourse are the work of Cercops the Pythagorean and the Robe and Physika, of Brontinus.

Olympiodoros, Commentary on the Phaedo 10.3.13

Plato paraphrases Orpheus everywhere.

Pausanias, Description of Greece 1.37.4

It is impossible to attribute the discovery of beans to Demeter; whoever has seen the initiation at Eleusis or has read the so-called Orphica knows what I am talking about.

Pausanias, Description of Greece 1.22.7

I have read verse in which Mousaios receives from the North Wind the gift of flight, but, in my opinion, Onomakritos wrote them, and there are no certainly genuine works of Mousaios except a hymn to Demeter written for the Lykomidae.

Proklos, The Theology of Plato 7.27

Timaios being a Pythagorean follows the Pythagorean principles, though in truth these are Orphic traditions. For what Orpheus delivered mystically through arcane narrations, these Pythagoras learned, being initiated by Aglaophemos in the mystic wisdom which Orpheus derived from his mother Kalliope. For these things Pythagoras says in the Sacred Discourse.

Suidas s.v. Orpheus

Orpheus, of Leibethra in Thrace (the town is below Pieria), son of Oiagros and Kalliope. Oiagros was in the fifth generation after Atlas, by Alkyone, one of his daughters. He lived 11 generations before the Trojan Wars, and they say he was a student of Linos. He lived for 9 generations, though some say 11. He wrote Triasms, but these are also said to be by Ion the tragedian. Among them are the so-called Hierostolica [‘Sacred Missives’]; Klêseis kosmikai [‘Cosmic Calls’]; Neoteuctica; Sacred Speeches in 24 Rhapsodies, but these are said to be by Theognetos the Thessalian, or by the Pythagorean Kerkops; Chrêsmous [‘Oracles’], which are attributed to Onomakritos; Teletas [‘Rites’], though these too are attributed to Onomakritos; among these is the Peri Lithôn Gluphês [‘Concerning Cutting on Stones’], entitled Eighty Stone; Sôtêria [‘Deliverances’], but these are said to be by Timokles the Syracusan or by Persinos the Milesian; Kratêras [‘Mixing Bowls’], said to be by Zopyros; Thronismoi of the Mother and Bakchica, said to be by Nikias of Elea; Eis Haidou Katabasin [‘Descent into Hades’], said to be by Herodikos of Perinthos; Peplon [‘Robe’] and Diktuon [‘Net’], also said to be by Zopyros of Heraclea, though others say Brontinos; an Onomasticon in epic hexameter, a Theogony in epic hexameter; Astronomy, Amokopia, Thuêpolikon, Ôiothutika or Ôioskopika in epic hexameter, Katazôstikon, Hymns, Korubantikon, and Physika [‘Writings on Nature’], which they also attribute to Brontinos.

Selections from Porphyry’s Life of Pythagoras 54-58

Pythagoras and his associates were long held in such admiration in Italy, that many cities invited them to undertake their administration. At last, however, they incurred envy, and a conspiracy was formed against them as follows. Cylon, a Crotonian, who in race, nobility and wealth was the most preeminent, was of a severe, violent and tyrannical disposition, and did not scruple to use the multitude of his followers to compass his ends. As he esteemed himself worthy of whatever was best, he considered it his right to be admitted to Pythagorean fellowship. He therefore went to Pythagoras extolled himself, and desired his conversation. Pythagoras, however, who was accustomed to read in human bodies’ nature and manners the disposition of the man, bade him depart, and go about his business. Cylon, being of a rough and violent disposition, took it as a great affront, and became furious.

He therefore assembled his friends, began to accuse Pythagoras, and conspired against him and his disciples. Pythagoras then went to Delos, to visit the Syrian Pherecydes, formerly his teacher, who was dangerously sick, to nurse him. Pythagoras’s friends then gathered together in the house of Milo the wrestler; and were all stoned and burned when Cylon’s followers set the house on fire. Only two escaped, Archippus and Lysis, according to the account of Neanthes. Lysis took refuge in Greece, with Epaminondas, whose teacher he had formerly been.

But Dicaearchus and other more accurate historians relate that Pythagoras himself was present when this conspiracy bore fruit, for Pherecydes had died before he left Samos. Of his friends, forty who were gathered together in a house were attacked and slain; while others were gradually slain as they came to the city. As his friends were taken, Pythagoras himself first escaped to the Caulonian haven, and thence visited the Locrians. Hearing of his coming, the Locrians sent some old men to their frontiers to intercept him. They said, “Pythagoras, you are wise and of great worth; but as our laws retain nothing reprehensible, we will preserve them intact. Go to some other place, and we will furnish you with any needed necessaries of travel.” Pythagoras turned back, and sailed to Tarentum, where, receiving the same treatment as at Crotona, he went to Metapontum. Everywhere arose great mobs against him, of which even now the inhabitants make mention, calling them the Pythagorean riots, as his followers were called Pythagoreans.

Pythagoras fled to the temple of the Muses, in Metapontum. There he abode forty days, and starving, died. Others however state that his death was due to grief at the loss of all his friends who, when the house in which they were gathered was burned, in order to make a way for their master, they threw themselves into the flames, to make a bridge of safety for him, whereby indeed he escaped. When died the Pythagoreans, with them also died their knowledge, which till then than they had kept secret, except for a few obscure things which were commonly repeated by those who did not understand them. Pythagoras himself left no book; but some little sparks of his philosophy, obscure and difficult, were preserved by the few who were preserved by being scattered, as were Lysis and Archippus.

The Pythagoreans now avoided human society, being lonely, saddened and dispersed. Fearing nevertheless that among men the name of philosophy would be entirely extinguished, and that therefore the Gods would be angry with them, they made abstracts and commentaries. Each man made his own collection of written authorities and his own memories, leaving them wherever he happened to die, charging their wives, sons and daughters to preserve them within their families. This mandate of transmission within each family was obeyed for a long time.

Excerpts from Iamblichos’ Life of Pythagoras

In short, Pythagoras imitated the Orphic mode of writing, and (pious) disposition, the way they honored the Gods representing them as images of brass not resembling our human form, but the divine receptacle of the sphere, because they comprehend and provide for all things, being of a nature and form similar to the universe.

But his divine philosophy and worship was compound, having learned much from the Orphic followers, but much also from the Egyptian priests, the Chaldeans and Magi, the mysteries of Eleusis, Imbrus, Samothracia, and Delos and even the Celtic and Iberian.

Further, Pythagoras conceived that the dominion of the divinities was most efficacious for establishing justice; and from this principle he deduced a hole polity, particular laws and a principle of justice. Thus his basic theology was that we should realize God’s existence, and that his disposition towards the human race is such that he inspects and does not neglect it. This theology was very useful: for we require an inspection that we would not be disposed to resist, such as the inspective government of the divinity, for if divine nature is of this nature, it deserves the empire of the universe. For the Pythagoreans rightly taught that (the natural) man is an animal naturally insolent, and changeable in impulse, desire and passions. He therefore requires an extraordinary inspectionary government of this kind, which may produce some chastening and ordering. They therefore thought that any who recognize their changeableness should never be forgetful of piety towards and worship of divinity. Everyone should pay heed, beneath the divine nature, and that of genii, to his parents and the laws, and obey them unfeignedly and faithfully. In general, they thought it necessary to believe that there is no evil greater than anarchy; since the human race is not naturally adapted to salvation without some guidance. The Pythagoreans also considered it advisable to adhere to the customs and laws of their ancestors, even though somewhat inferior to other regulations. For it is unprofitable and not salutary to evade existing laws, or to be studious of innovation. Pythagoras, therefore, to evince that his life was conformable to his doctrines gave many other specimens of piety to the Gods.

Those who were called Cylonians continued to plot against the Pythagoreans, and to exhibit the most virulent malevolence. Nevertheless for a time this enmity was subdued by the Pythagoreans’ probity, and also by the vote of the citizens, who entrusted the whole of the city affairs to their management.

At length, however, the Cylonians became so hostile to the men, as they were called, that they set fire to Milo’s residence, where were assembled all the Pythagoreans, holding a council of war. All were burnt, except two, Archippus and Lysis, who escaped through their bodily vigor. As no public notice was taken of this calamity, the Pythagoreans ceased to pay any further attention to public affairs, which was due to two causes: the cities’s negligence, and through the loss of those men most qualified to govern. Both of the saved Pythagoreans were Tarentines, and Archippus returned home. Lysis resenting the public neglect went into Greece, residing in the Achian Peloponnesus. Stimulated by an ardent desire, he migrated to Thebes, where he had as disciple Epaminondas, who spoke of his teacher as his father. There Lysis died.

Except Archytas of Tarentum, the rest of the Pythagoreans departed from Italy, and dwelt together in Rhegium. The most celebrated were Phantos, Echecrates, Polymnastus, and Diocrates, who were Phlyasians; and Xenophilus Chalcidensis of Thrace. But in course of time, as the administration of public affairs went from bad to worse, these Pythagoreans nevertheless preserved their pristine manners and disciplines; yet soon the sect began to fail, till they nobly perished. This is the account by Aristoxenus.

Nichomachus agrees with Aristoxenus, except that he dates the plot against the Pythagoreans during Pythagoras’s journey to Delos, to nurse his preceptor Pherecydes the Syrian, who was then afflicted with the morbus pedicularis, and after his death performed the funeral rites. Then those who had been rejected by the Pythagoreans, and to whom monuments had been raised, as if they were dead, attacked them, and committed them all to the flames. Afterwards they were overwhelmed by the Italians with stones, and thrown out of the house unburied. Then science died in the breasts of its possessors, having by them been preserved as something mystic and incommunicable. Only such things as were difficult to be understood, and which were not expounded, were preserved in the memory of those who were outside of the sect, except a few things, which certain Pythagoreans, who at that time happened to be in foreign, lands, preserved as sparks of science very obscure, and of difficult investigation. These men being solitary, and dejected at this calamity, were scattered in different places retaining no longer public influence. They lived alone in solitary places, wherever they found any; each preferred association with himself to that with any other person.

Fearing however lest the name of philosophy should be entirely exterminated from among mankind, and that they should, on this account incur the indignation of the Gods, by suffering so great a gift of theirs to perish, they made an arrangement of certain commentaries and symbols, gathered the writings of the more ancient Pythagoreans, and of such things as they remembered. These relics each left at his death to his son, or daughter, or wife, with a strict injunction not to alienate from the family. This was carried out for some time and the relics were transmitted in succession to their posterity.

Since Apollonius dissents in a certain place regarding these particulars, and adds many things that we have not mentioned, we must record his account of the plot against the Pythagoreans. He says that from childhood Pythagoras had aroused envy. So long as he conversed with all that came to him, he was pleasing to all; but when he restricted his intercourse to his disciples the general peoples’ good opinion of him was altered.

Their leaders, as well as the common folk were offended by the Pythagoreans’ actions, which were unusual, and the people interpreted that peculiarity as a reflection on theirs. The Pythagoreans’ kindred were indignant that they associated with none, their parents excepted; that they shared in common their possessions to the exclusion of their kindred, whom they treated as strangers. These personal motives turned the general opposition into active hostility. Hippasus, Diodorus and Theages united in insisting that the assembly and the magistracy should be opened to every citizen, and that the rulers should be responsible to elected representatives of the people. This was opposed by the Pythagoreans Alcimachus, Dimachus, Meton and Democides, and opposed changes in the inherited constitution. They were however defeated, and were formally accused in a popular as assembly by two orators, the aristocrat Cylon, and the plebeian Ninon. These two planned their speeches together, the first and longer one being made by Cylon, while Nino concluded by pretending that he had penetrated the Pythagorean mysteries, and that he had gathered and written out such particular as were calculated to criminate the Pythagoreans, and a scribe he gave to read a book which was entitled the Sacred Discourse.

Pythagoras considered that Homer deserved to be praised for calling a king the shepherd of the people which implied approval of aristocracy, in which the rulers are few, while the implication is that the rest of men are like cattle. Enmity was required to beans, because they were used in voting; inasmuch as the Pythagoreans selected office holders by appointment. To rule should be an object of desire, for it is better to be a bull for one day only, than for all one’s life to be an ox. While other states’ constitutions might be laudable, yet it would be advisable to use only that which is known to oneself.

In short, Ninon showed that their philosophy was a conspiracy against democracy: and advised the people to listen to the defendants, that they would never have been admitted into the assembly if the Pythagoreans’ council had to depend for admission on the Session of a thousand men, that they should not allow speech to those who, had used their utmost to prevent speech by others.

The people must remember that when they raised their right hands to vote, or even count their votes, this their right hand was constructively rejected by the Pythagoreans, who were Aristocrats. It was also disgraceful that the Crotonian masses who had conquered thirty myriads of men at the river Tracis should be outweighed by a thousandth part of the same number through sedition in the city itself.

Through these calumnies Ninon so exasperated his hearers that a few days after a multitude assembled intending to attack the Pythagoreans as they were sacrificing to the Muses in a house near the temple of Apollo. Foreseeing this, the Pythagoreans fled to an inn, while Democedes with the youths retired to Plataea. The partisans of the new constitution decreed an accusation against Democedes of inciting the to capture power, putting a price of thirty talents on his head, dead or alive. A battle ensued, and the victor, Theages was given the talents promised by the city. The city’s evils spread to the whole region, and the exiles were arrested even in Tarentum, Metapontum and Caulonia. The envoys from these cities that came to Crotona to get the charges were, according to the Crotonian record, bribed, with the result that the exiles were condemned as guilty, and driven out further. The Crotonians then expelled from the city all who were dissatisfied with the existing regime; banishing along with them all their families, on the two-fold pretext that impiety was unbearable, and that the children should not be separated from their parents. They then repudiated the debts, and redistributed the lands.

Many years after, when Dinarchus and his associates had been slain in another battle, and when Litagus, the chief leader of the sedition were dead, pity and repentance induced the citizens to recall from exile what remained of the Pythagoreans. They therefore sent for from messengers from Achaia who were to come to an agreement with the exiles, and file their oaths (of loyalty to the existing Crotonian regime?) at Delphi. The Pythagoreans who returned from exile were about sixty in number, not to mention the aged among whom were some physicians and dieticians on original lines. When these Pythagoreans returned, they were welcomed by the crowds, who silenced dissenters by announcing that the regime was ended. Then the Thurians invaded the country, and the Pythagoreans were sent to procure assistance but they perished in battle, mutually defending each other. So thoroughly had the city become Pythagoreanized that beside the public praise, they performed a public sacrifice in the temple of the Muses which had originally been built at the instigation of Pythagoras.

That is all of the attack on the Pythagoreans

Having kind of a “duh” moment.

Although I had connected Dionysos with the Black Sun well before I experienced the dream wherein he gave me his controversial spoked symbol it took me a while to realize that this title had been hiding in plain sight all along:

After the precinct of Zeus, there is a temple of Dionysos Nyktelios, a sanctuary built to Aphrodite Epistrophia and an oracle said to belong to Nyx. (Pausanias, Description of Greece 1.40.6)

Most scholars translate Νυκτελιος as “Nocturnal” or “of the Night” which makes sense for a number of reasons: Dionysian rituals (especially of the orgiastic variety) often take place in the dark; the close proximity of this temple in Megara to that of Nyx, Goddess of the Night; and the important role Nyx plays in Orphic cosmologies where she is daughter, wife and successor of Phanes, the primordial Dionysos. 

However we get a better sense of what this title meant to his devotees from Plutarch’s On the E at Delphi:

As for his passage and distribution into waves and water, and earth, and stars, and nascent plants and animals, they hint at the actual change undergone as a rending and dismemberment, but name the God himself Dionysos or Zagreus or Nyktelios or Isodaites. Deaths too and vanishings do they construct, passages out of life and new births, all riddles and tales to match the changes mentioned. So they sing to Dionysos dithyrambic strains, charged with sufferings and a change wherein are wanderings and dismemberment.

Plutarch goes on to both equate and contrast Dionysos with Apollon in a manner similar to what we find in Eratosthenes and Macrobius, a tradition which hearkens back to primitive Thracian Orphic beliefs wherein Apollon is a manifestation of Helios above the Earth, while Dionysos is Helios in the Underworld, much as the Egyptian solar deity Rē fuses with Osiris in the Duat. 

Nyktelios can certainly be parsed as “Nocturnal” but if you break it down a different way – Νυκτ- “Night-dark” and έλιος “the Sun” you get … Black Sun.  

 

I know that my humor can be a little opaque at times. This was in reference to the comparisons I’d been seeing between General Qasem Soleimani and Archduke Franz Ferdinand – which, personally, I don’t get. Franz had way better facial hair.

The whole thing is a little depressing though. Is the 21st century just going to be one of those shitty reboot/reimaginings of the 20th – but grittier, “sexier”, and with bigger explosions plus a more diverse cast? Jesus, I hope they’ve got Rob Zombie directing this thing rather than J. J. Abrams or Michael Bay. 

 

Trump over the last couple days is starting to remind me of Marcus Licinius Crassus. 

I mean, except for the part where Crassus actually met the Parthians in pitched battle. 

Saw this news story – Meth-Addled Carjacker Kidnaps Man and Goat From Missouri Porn Store – and it made me think of another story. Apparently Missouri has decided to out-Florida Florida. 

Wow, man has there been a lot of talk of Franz Ferdinand over the last couple days. Do they have a new album coming out soon or something?

Manowar wanted to honor the operatic influence of their earlier work (such as 1992’s Triumph of Steel which contains their epic retelling of the Matter of Troy) and so for their 2002 album Warriors of the World the world’s loudest band (according to Guinness) recorded a cover of Nessun dorma. It’s quite something:

Even more powerful, however, is hearing their fans sing along at this concert at Arena Fiera, Rho during the Italian Gods of Metal festival:

This makes the world somehow a tiny bit better. 

I was just reading Völuspá stanza 41:

Fylliz fiǫrvi feigra manna,
rýðr ragna siǫt rauðom dreyra.
Svǫrt verða sólskin of sumor eptir,
veðr ǫll válynd. Vitoð ér enn, eða hvat?

And stanza 57:

Sól tér sortna, sígr fold í mar,
hverfa af himni heiðar stjörnur;
geisar eimi ok aldrnari,
leikr hár hiti við himin sjalfan.

Did you catch what the Völva prophesied?

Here, let me English it for you:

It sates itself on the life-blood of fated men,
paints red the powers’ homes with crimson gore.
Black become the Sun’s beams in the summers that follow,
weathers all treacherous. Do you still seek to know? And what?

[…]

The sun turns black, earth sinks in the sea,
The hot stars down from heaven are whirled;
Fierce grows the steam and the life-feeding flame,
Till fire leaps high about heaven itself.