Here’s a collection of links relevant to the Starry Bear tradition. Appropriate since this is the time of year when we honor Dionysos as Óðr.

Oh, WordPress stats – you gave me an early Foundation Day present.

Apparently I got some traffic from a blog post entitled “Nazis do not belong in Hellenism” wherein it was argued that I’m one because I wrote this piece where I advocate for personal liberty, women’s rights and condemn France for banning the burka.

I may have read the wrong history books but I do not recall those being the positions of the National Socialist German Worker’s Party. Rather the opposite, I’d have sworn.

Oh well. I love women, and everything about them. (Mostly.) They can dress however they please, whether that’s covered head to toe or titties flapping in the wind. More to the point, it’s none of my damned business how another dresses and comports. Sure, I have opinions. (And the fashion sense of a bisexual male.) But that’s all they are, and I’d never dream of imposing them on another. Unless we’re doing ritual together, in which case you’ve got to wear black, red, white or gold, and nothing else. Because– tradition!

One of the customs we carried over into Foundation Day from earlier winter festivals such as Brumalia, Saturnalia and Kalends is the giving of strenae (“good luck presents.”)

If you aren’t sure what to get the Dionysian in your life, might I recommend one of our Year 4 calendars which have most of his major festivals converted from their lunar dates, something that will prove helpful whether or not their practice is informed by the Starry Bull tradition. I’ve still got a few left from the initial run and won’t be printing more once those all sell out.

If you don’t currently have a Dionysian in your life leave a comment below and y’all can do a gift exchange. I recommend that these be small presents (under $20) and even better something hand made, and filled with prayer and good wishes for the year to come. Normal warnings about strangers on the internet and giving out personal information apply. Just because someone is a reader of this blog does not make them a good or trustworthy individual. (Though it does suggest they have impeccable taste.)

And finally, if you want to gift your humble author and ἱεροποιός (temple steward) a little something something you’re welcome to send donations via Paypal to sannion@gmail.com. I assure you that all donations will either be spent on offerings for the temple, books or drugs.

On the Bakcheion calendar today marks the beginning of our Foundation Day festival, which continues roughly for the next two and a half weeks.

Foundation Day is a modern observance of our temple, combining elements from several ancient Dionysian winter holidays such as Brumalia, Haloa, the Kalendae Ianuariae, etc. Although the bulk of our rites are carried out on December 31st each day from now until then is dedicated to a different letter of the Greek alphabet, with attendant activities and themes for reflection.

If you can’t keep all of the days it’s recommended that you pick the one whose letter begins your name and do something extravagant at that time. For instance since I’m Sannion I would choose Σίγμα – which happens to fall on Christmas. What day is yours?

Anyway, have fun as we count down the remainder of the year and prepare to commemorate the establishment of our temple, the Hudson Valley Bakcheion.

We just finished our ritual for the 4th week of Sunwait, a modern Heathen custom counting down the time until Yule.

In addition to copious prayers and offerings to our assorted Gods and Ancestors, we placed the first batch of Bakcheion calendars on the shrine so that they could be charged with blessings and protections for the recipients in the year to come, before they get shipped out tomorrow.

It was a lovely and moving rite that called to mind previous Yule observances and put me in the mood for celebrating this festival with my household once again.

I hope all of my readers are doing well this season and that luck, health and wealth be yours in the year to come!

I’m currently reading a couple articles y’all might find interesting. First, a general overview of Boötes and its related constellations, and secondly E. Antonello’s suggestion that roughly 5,000 years ago Ursa Major and Minor appeared closer to Boötes than they presently do.

While beatboxing with Siri can be fun I have a better game to play.

Spot those Toys!

Each of the videos on this playlist feature at least 3 or 4 of the Toys of Dionysos – and some contain all. Can you find them?

If you’re still interested in getting a Year 4 (2022 e.v.) Bakcheion calendar shoot me an email and I’ll give you payment details. I’ll be sending the files to the printer over the weekend and mailing out the calendars early next week. I won’t be doing a large print run on these (unless I suddenly get a lot of requests) so don’t hesitate, or you may miss out!

Music is an essential part of my devotional practice, and over the years I’ve assembled numerous playlists for Dionysos. (And before YouTube and MP3s there were mix-tapes – with actual cassettes even!)

Here’s a couple I’d like to share with you today.

Dionysos Bakcheios

Dionysos Lusios

Primal Dionysos (created by Dver; stolen by me)

Starry Bull myth mix

Starry Bear

Black Sun

Fun fact! The upcoming year requires intercalation, meaning we’ll have thirteen lunar months this time around to keep things synched with the solar cycle.

Some ancient Greek systems just repeated the final month*, while others gave the extra month its own name. The Bakcheion follows the latter custom, calling it Eriaphioteion after the Dionysian epiklesis Eriaphiotes meaning “insewn” or “stitched together,” since he was snatched from the smouldering wreckage of his mother Semele and placed in an artificial womb in his father Zeus’ thigh to finish gestating.

As a consequence of this most of our festivals (with the exception of Foundation Day, which is always on January 1st) will be about 3-4 weeks earlier than normal. Without this adjustment, however, we’d have seasonal creep resulting in Anthesteria being celebrated in autumn, or worse!

And note that this calendar, and its sequence of festivals, is just for the Bakcheion and those who wish to follow along – it is not in use by Hellenic polytheists or Dionysians in general, nor does it represent the “official” calendar of the Starry Bull tradition as a whole, although Starry Bull myth and cosmology definitely provides the backdrop for it. But different groups and streams of the tradition will have their own festival-cycles, calendars, etc. Anyone is welcome to use it, of course, it just has no binding authority outside the temple.

* A notable exception being the Rhodians who put their Embólimos or repeated month between the 6th and 7th.

Question for those who have pre-ordered a Bakcheion Year Four (2022 e.v.) calendar; and if you haven’t, you should do so soon! – do you want me to include a little pamphlet explaining how it works (largely recapping the info found here) and listing the feast days for the Heroes and Heroines (not marked on the calendar, as there are just too many of them) or will the calendars by themselves be fine? Without the pamphlets I could probably have things ready to ship by the end of the week, though it might take a little longer if I need to put them together.

Edited to add: No one requested the pamphlets so I’m going to print the calendars without them. If you have any questions consult the Bakcheion site or shoot me an email.

I was a kid when Empire came out, so didn’t really get a lot of the broader themes explored therein, but I was sooo into it, playing the cassette over and over until my step-father would pound on my door demanding I put something else on or he’d beat me retarded with his belt. I loved the symbol on the cover, and created a superhero (basically a Batman knockoff) who used it as his emblem, complete with shuriken and a car in that shape. About six months later I discovered Nirvana, Mother Love Bone, Green River and other bands in the local grunge scene (I was living in Everett at the time, roughly 30 miles from Seattle) and pretty much forgot about Queensrÿche altogether.

Recently, however, a bout of nostalgia led me down a Queensrÿche rabbit hole and I found myself appreciating them in ways I never had before, including songs that had left me cold and utterly indifferent. Some of their songs even feel more relevant with the shit going on today than when they were written (the whole Operation: mindcrime album is particularly prescient.)

But the song I’ve been listening to the most is “Silent Lucidity,” which, for some reason is giving me strong Dionysos vibes, though mostly in the past this song has made me think of Hermes.

WordPress recommended this link on my last post, wherein I made some rather smart remarks to some interesting theological questions put to me by an old friend. Enjoy.

I’m stoned and hit post too soon. Sorry.

But anyway… you’ll note that the Fury-like attendant weighs his liver along with his heart, since it was the seat of Darnell’s thumos. In my Bacchic Orphic soul-parts system, however, the thumos is located in the heart not the liver. Ancient Greek sources differ on the matter so I just went with the organ that made the most sense to me, even if this contradicted what I had previously written.

And as for why she has an aardvark at her feet, well, that’s a mystery you’ll have to read the book the poem was originally published in to understand. In fact you should probably read the entire ‘Nykteliad’ Poetic Cycle if you haven’t already. (And that’s the current official order in which they should be read; disregard previous suggestions. Consistency is highly over-rated. Panta chōrei, bitches.)

Galina mentioned this poem in the comments to my post on Bacchic Orphic eschatology, so I decided to repost it. A couple notes may prove helpful.

First, the title is a quote by Pablo Neruda which can be Englished as, “There is a certain pleasure in madness, which only the madman knows.”

Secondly, it’s a riff on the interrogation scene found in the Gold Leaves, combined with the Oath of the Initiates from Euripides’ Cretans. (And some Matrix allusions, natch.) Although the Gold Leaves do not identify the underworld interlocutors I went with the tradition where the three sons of Zeus – Minos, Rhadamanthys and Aiakos – are responsible for passing judgment on the souls in Haides. They are aided in this process by the enigmatic figure seen flogging the initiate/bride in the fresco of the Villa dei Misteri at Pompeii, whom some identify as Dike, Nemesis or the Etruscan Vanth. I have my own theories on who she is, and how she came into the Bacchic orbit, but I’ll save those for another time.

And thirdly, the poem contains the message that we should not root our identities in the ephemeral things of this world, but in divine things that will abide even beyond the grave – which is why the ivy-shaped lamellae buried with the initiates are inscribed on gold foil, one of the purest and most enduring of metals.

Darnell approached the Table of Judgment
behind which sat the Three Kings,
Minos, Rhadamanthys and Aiakos
who were sober and somber and severe men,
famed even in life for their wisdom and equanimity. (Mostly.)
The Zeus Below had put them in charge
of weighing the souls and assigning the lots
of all those who entered his Kingdom,
and they were very diligent in executing their duties,
especially when it came to doling out punishment.

Beside them stood a Black woman
blacker than the Midnight Sun,
with hair the color of a corpse-eating
blue bottle fly, a silver sword sharp like desire
and shaped like the Moon’s crescent,
a perfectly balanced scale
made of a man’s ribcage and tendons,
a gown of fingernails,
a blindfold soaked in blood,
and at her feet lay a giant, snarling aardvark.

“Mr. Anderson, would you please seat yourself
on the Table of Judgment so that we may begin?”
Aiakos’ voice was cold, clinical
and strangely comforting to Darnell.

“Lay back, if you would.”
Darnell did as he was bid,
the table hard and chill
despite the room’s balmy temperature,
and waited for the next instruction,
but none came.

Instead the monstrous woman stepped forward,
placed an even colder hand upon his throat
to ensure he did not move,
and then sunk her sword deep into his chest.
With ferocious force she then dragged the blade down to his crotch,
easily parting muscle and bone until he was splayed open
like a half-dressed deer.
She then reached into his cavity,
pushed aside fat and organs
until she clasped his heart in her fist and drew it out.

“Please be done with that screaming, Mr. Anderson.”
The iron beneath his velvet voice made it clear
that Minos was not asking. “It will not
accomplish anything, and you are already dead,
so while this may hurt tremendously it will not kill you.”

The heart landed in the bone basket with a squelching sound
and Darnell could not help himself, and burst out laughing.

“Do you find this scenario humorous, Mr. Anderson?”
There was no amusement in Rhadamanthys’ voice.

Darnell recovered from another screaming bout,
then chuckled and said, “Yeah, a little bit.”

The woman was digging around,
blindly searching for his liver,
the seat of thumos,
so that it too could be weighed.

“I mean, I spent my whole life being judged by old White guys,
why should things be any different here?”

She found it, yanked it free,
and Darnell screamed some more.
Once he re-caught his breath, he said,
“I didn’t give a shit then,
and I’m not going to start now.”

Aiakos steepled his fingers and said, “We can be very creative.”
Darnell spat blood at him. “Do your worst, bitches.
Do you know who I am, really?
Not this ‘Mr. Anderson’ guy you keep calling me.
I got blood of the Titans in my veins,
I’m a child of Earth and motherfucking Starry Heaven.
There is no suffering alien to me,
and no joy.
I devoured them all, for I am a mailed Bakchos
of the midnight-hunting Zagreus who roars!
I have felt the thunderstrike that frees;
I have stepped from the crown and fallen into milk;
I have danced among the fire-breathing stars;
I have risen with the flowers and trees;
I have drunk the blessed wine of madness.
My name? I am Asterion, the Starry One;
and don’t you forget it.”

The Hall of Judgment
and everything in it disappeared then
and Darrell was alone
with only Dionysos in the darkness,
and his God smiled, and said,
“I was hoping you would say that.”

As we head into the Christmas season remember that Hallmark movies are full of “fascist propaganda.”

Ptolemy’s Tetrabiblos 181–182
In a special way, again, if the moon holds the place of action, and is moving away from conjunction, together with Mercury: in Taurus, Capricornus, and Cancer, she produces soothsayers (mánteis), makers of sacrifices (thýtas), and adepts in lekanomancy; in Sagittarius and Pisces necromancers and those who can arouse daemons (daimónōn kinētikoús); in Virgo and Scorpio magicians (mágous), astrologers, prophets (apophthengoménous), those who have second sight (prognṓseis échontas); in Libra, Aries, and Leo persons inspired by the Gods, interpreters of dreams, and exorcists.

Once the soul is separated from the body it wanders around in a strange and dark place – exhausted, hungry, thirsty and steadily losing its mind. It is surrounded by indistinct phantoms that ceaselessly change their shapes and faint, gibbering voices in the distance endlessly lamenting the things they suffered, the wrong choices they made. Over and over again they tell their sad stories until the beguiling words seep into the soul, ensnaring it in filth and misery – unless it has the strength of will to press on. But with each step the soul’s memories continue to decay until it is in danger of forgetting who it is entirely.

Then, within the murky gloom the soul spies a radiantly white tree with a dark stream flowing beside it.

Most souls rush right to it to appease their savage thirst, like moths drawn to a flame. For to drink from the waters of Lethe spells a second death for the soul, the eternal death of forgetfulness – and what’s worse, of being forgotten.

The soul of the initiate knows what that tree represents and so avoids it; the soul has been this way before, has drunk from the well of Memory while in the ritual frenzy of the dance.

When the soul reaches the other tree the guardian of the lake asks, “Who are you? Why are you here?”

And the soul of the initiate is reminded by these words of when it was thunderstruck with wine, when it flew from the wearying circle as a bull of stars, when the snake passed through the bosom and the twining ivy kept off the flames, the embrace in the dark and the heavenly crown.

The soul remembers who it is and knows that it lived life fearlessly and to the fullest, regardless of how things turned out.

It regrets nothing.

Smiling, the soul of the initiate says to the guardian in the tree, “Tell Persephone that Bakchios himself has set me free.”

And then you are bid to drink, refreshing yourself for the arduous journey that remains.

You don’t think you go to the halls of feasting straight from the tree, do you?

No.

The Orphic gold lamellae allude to much that happens after – but it’s the interrogation scene that they’re all so careful to lay out for you, o thrice-blessed dead person. Once you have remembered who you are, what made you and what led you here – well, then you get to act out your very own fairy tale.

Will you make it to the castle at the heart of the labyrinth?

Try!

For they have all the best parties there, and wine that flows forever.