Lucius Ampelius, Liber Memorialis
There are five Libers: the first, son of Jupiter and Proserpina; he was a farmer and inventor of wine; his sister is Ceres. The second Liber, son of Melo and Flora, in whose name is the River Granicus. The third, son of Cabirus, who reigns in Asia. The fourth, son of Saturnius and Semele … they say. The fifth, the son of Nisus and Thyona. 

Clement of Alexandria, Stromateis 5.8.49.3
So what? Does not Epigenes, in his book On the Poetry of Orpheus, in exhibiting the peculiarities found in Orpheus, say that by “the curved rods” (κερκίσι) is meant “ploughs”; and by the warp (στήμοσι), the furrows; and the woof (μίτος) is a figurative expression for the seed; and that “tears of Zeus” signify a storm; and that the “parts” (μοῖραι) are, again, the phases of the moon, the thirtieth day, and the fifteenth, and the new moon, and that Orpheus accordingly calls them “white-robed,” as being parts of the light? Again, that the Spring is called “flowery” (ἄνθιον) from its nature; and Night “still” (ἀργίς) on account of rest; and the Moon “Gorgonian,” on account of the face in it; and that the time in which it is necessary to sow is called “Aphrodite” by the theologian? In the same way, too, the Pythagoreans spoke figuratively, allegorizing the “dogs of Persephone” as the planets, the “tears of Cronus” as the sea.

Hippolytus of Rome, On Christ and Antichrist 4
For whereas the Word of God was without flesh, he took upon Himself the holy flesh by the holy Virgin, and prepared a robe which He wove for Himself, like a bridegroom, in the sufferings of the cross, in order that by uniting His own power with our mortal body and by mixing the incorruptible with the corruptible, and the strong with the weak, He might save perishing man. The web-beam (ἱστόν), therefore, is the passion of the Lord upon the cross, and the warp (στήμων) on it is the power of the Holy Spirit, and the woof (κρόκη) is the holy flesh woven by the Spirit, and the thread (μίτος) is the grace which by the love of Christ binds and unites the two in one, and the rods (κερκίς) are the Word; and the workers are the patriarchs and prophets who weave the fair, long, perfect tunic (χιτῶν) for Christ; and the Word passing through these, like the rods, completes through them the will of His Father.

She anointed Mark Antony on the head and the hands and mouth—the head that thinks of great deeds, the hands that accomplish them and the mouth that utters words that are just, wise and true. 

I was cleaning out my drafts in Gmail where I keep random links, quotations, snippets of peculiar phrases and title ideas for unwritten blog posts when I came across these passages on the obscure Bacchic hero Semachos:

Jerome, The Chronicle B1497
During the 10 years Moses was in charge of the Jewish nation in the desert Deucalion’s son Dionysus traveled abroad. When he arrived in Attica he was received as a guest by Semachus and gave his daughter the pelt of a goat.

Philochorus, fragment 206 (preserved in Stephanus Byzantinus)
Semachidae: a deme of Attica, named after Semachus, who with his daughters received Dionysus as a guest; the priestesses of Dionysus are descended from them. It belongs to the Antiochis tribe, and Philochorus says that the deme is in the district of Epacria.

Wanting to learn more about him and his daughters I hit the Google, turning up this:

Dionysus was welcomed by the women of Semachos’ oikos. His daughter received the gift of a deer skin (nebris), which Karl Kerenyi identified as the bestowal of the rite of maenads in rending limb from limb the animals they sacrificed to Dionysus: “nebrizein also means the rending of an animal.”

They go on to derive his name from a Northwest Semitic loanword represented by the Hebrew šimah, “made to rejoice.” Semachos, as a plural of simchah, “joyous occasion”, appears in the euphemistically titled Talmudic Tractate Semachos, which deals with customs of death and mourning.

Carl Kerenyi adds this fascinating detail:

On a sixth-century vase from Orvieto a man is leading Dionysos toward the host-hero, whose distinction is stressed by an eagle bearing a snake in its beak. Two women making dance movements and two ithyphallic sileni are also present. In all likelihood the scene represents the god’s arrival at the house of Semachos. (pg. 147)

Hmm. An eagle bearing a snake – where have I seen that before? Oh yeah, the coinage of Olbia and Shield of Dionysos.

Anyway, interesting timing that I should (re)discover this man and his daughters during the month of Νεβρίς, with Ἀγριώνια and Ἀλέτιδεια upon the horizon.  

Sextus Empiricus, Adversus Mathematicos 6.8
Thus Pythagoras, when he once observed how youths who had been filled with Bacchic frenzy by alcoholic drink differed not at all from madmen, exhorted the flute-player, who was joining them in the carousal, to play his aulos for them in the spondaic melos. When he thus did what was ordered, they suddenly changed and became as temperate as if they had been sober even at the beginning.

Álvaro de Campos:

Multipliquei-me, para me sentir,
Para me sentir, precisei sentir tudo,
Transbordei, não fiz senão extravasar-me,
Despi-me, entreguei-rne,
E há em cada canto da minha alma um altar a um deus diferente.

I multiplied, to feel myself,
To feel myself, I had to feel everything,
I overflowed, I did nothing but escape,
I undressed myself, I gave it up,
And there is in every corner of my soul an altar to a different God.

One of the primary forms of Dionysos venerated within the Starry Bull tradition is referred to by his epikleseis Eubouleos meaning “He of Good Counsel” and Epikoos “He who Listens.” In Bacchic Orphism Dionysos intercedes on behalf of the initiate, speaking words to soothe the ancient grief of Persephone which must otherwise be atoned for through purgation and punishment:

For from whomsoever Persephone shall accept requital for ancient grief, the souls of these she restores in the ninth year to the upper sun again; from them arise glorious kings and men of splendid might and surpassing wisdom, and for all remaining time men call them sainted heroes. (Pindar, fragment preserved in Plato’s Meno)

The happy life, far from a vagrant existence, that is desired by those who, in Orpheus, are initiated through Dionysos and Kore and told to cease from the circle and enjoy respite from disgrace. (Proklos, Commentary on Plato’s Timaeus 3.296.7)

Dionysos is the cause of release, whence the God is also called Lusios. And Orpheus says: “Men performing rituals will send hekatombs in every season throughout the year and celebrate festivals, seeking release from lawless ancestors. You, having power over them, whomever you wish you will release from harsh toil and the unending goad.” (Damascius, Commentary on the Phaedo 1.11)

Now you have died and now you have been born, thrice blessed one, on this very day. Say to Persephone that Bakchios himself set you free. A bull you rushed to milk. Quickly, you rushed to milk. A ram you fell into milk. You have wine as your fortunate honor. And rites await you beneath the earth, just as the other blessed ones. (Gold tablet from Pelinna)

Likewise he is the one who intervenes when none of the other Gods can break the cycle of violence and recrimination that Hera and Hephaistos find themselves trapped in:

Hera hurled Hephaistos down from heaven, ashamed at her son’s lameness, but he made use of his skill. Having been rescued in the ocean by sea divinities he made many glorious things – some for Eurynome, some for Thetis, by whom he had been saved – but he also built a throne with invisible chains and sent it as a gift to his mother. And she was very delighted with the gift and she sat on it and found herself trapped, and there was no one to release her. A council of the Gods was held to discuss returning Hephaistos to heaven; for as they thought he was the only one who could release her. So while the other Gods remained silent and were at a loss for a solution, Ares undertook to do something, and when he got there, he accomplished nothing, but quit in disgrace when Hephaistos threatened him with blazing torches. Since Hera was in such great distress, Dionysos came with wine and, by making Hephaistos drunk, compelled him to follow through persuasive speech. When he came and released his mother he made Dionysos Hera’s benefactor, and she, rewarding him, convinced the heavenly Gods that Dionysos, to should be one of the heavenly Gods. (Libanios, Progymnasmata Narration 7)

In the mortal realm Dionysos is the one who gives voice to those who suffer and have been deprived of all other outlets, usually resulting in the institution of a festival that makes the community that spurned them reenact their story, as he did with Erigone:

When Ikarios was slain by the relatives of those who, after drinking wine for the first time fell asleep (for as yet they did not know that what had happened was not death but a drunken stupor) the people of Attika suffered from disease, Dionysos thereby (as I think) avenging the first and the most elderly man who cultivated his plants. At any rate the Pythian oracle declared that if they wanted to be restored to health they must offer sacrifice to Ikarios and to Erigone his daughter and to her hound which was celebrated for having in its excessive love for its mistress declined to outlive her. (Aelian, On Animals 7.28)

And the Oinotrophoi:

My lord, most noble hero, you make no mistake. You saw me father of five children, now such is the fickleness of fate you see me almost childless. For what help to me is my son far away on Andros isle where in his father’s stead he reigns? Delius gave him power of prophecy and Liber gave my girls gifts greater than the prayers of their belief. For at my daughters’ touch all things were turned to corn or wine or oil of Minerva’s tree. Rich was that role of theirs! But when it was known to Atrides, plunderer of Troy, with force of arms he stole my girls, protesting, from their father’s arms and bade them victual with that gift divine the fleet of Greece. They fled, each as she could, two to Euboea, two to their brother’s isle, Andros. A force arrived and threatened war, were they not given up. Fear overcame his love and he gave up his kith and kin to punishment. And one could well forgive their frightened brother … Now fetters were made ready to secure the captured sisters’ arms: their arms still free the captives raised to heaven, crying “Help! Help, father Bacchus!” and the God who gave their gift brought help, if help it can be called in some strange way to lose one’s nature. How they lost it, that I never learnt, nor could I tell you now. The bitter end’s well known. With wings and feathers, birds your consort loves, my daughters were transformed to snow-white doves. (Ovid, Metamorphoses 13. 631 ff)

And Charilla:

The Delphians celebrate three festivals one after the other which occur every eight years, the first of which they call Septerion, the second Heroïs, and the third Charilla. The greater part of the Heroïs has a secret import which the Thyiads know; but from the portions of the rites that are performed in public one might conjecture that it represents the evocation of Semele. The story of Charilla which they relate is somewhat as follows: A famine following a drought oppressed the Delphians, and they came to the palace of their king with their wives and children and made supplication. The king gave portions of barley and legumes to the more notable citizens, for there was not enough for all. But when an orphaned girl, who was still but a small child, approached him and importuned him, he struck her with his sandal and cast the sandal in her face. But, although the girl was poverty-stricken and without protectors, she was not ignoble in character; and when she had withdrawn, she took off her girdle and hanged herself. As the famine increased and diseases also were added thereto, the prophetic priestess gave an oracle to the king that he must appease Charilla, the maiden who had slain herself. Accordingly, when they had discovered with some difficulty that this was the name of the child who had been struck, they performed a certain sacrificial rite combined with purification, which even now they continue to perform every eight years. For the king sits in state and gives a portion of barley-meal and legumes to everyone, alien and citizen alike, and a doll-like image of Charilla is brought thither. When, accordingly, all have received a portion, the king strikes the image with his sandal. The leader of the Thyiads picks up the image and bears it to a certain place which is full of chasms; there they tie a rope round the neck of the image and bury it in the place where they buried Charilla after she had hanged herself. (Plutarch, Aetia Graeca 12)

And Kyanê:

To Dionysos alone did Kyanippos, a Syracusan, omit to sacrifice. Then one day in a fit of drunkenness he violated his daughter Kyanê in a dark place. She took off his ring and gave it to her nurse to be a mark of recognition. When the Syracusans were oppressed by a plague, and the Pythian God pronounced that they should sacrifice the impious man to the Averting Deities, the rest had no understanding of the oracle; but Kyanê knew, and seized her father by the hair and dragged him forth; and when she had herself cut her father’s throat, she killed herself upon his body in the same manner. So Dositheüs in the third book of his Sicilian History. (Plutarch, Greek and Roman Parallel Stories 18)

And numerous others.

Indeed, one of the central tenets of tragedy is that μίμησις brings about κάθαρσις, as Aristotle remarks in the Poetics:

Tragedy, then, is an imitation of an action that is serious, complete, and of a certain magnitude; in language embellished with each kind of artistic ornament; in the form of action, not of narrative; through pity and fear effecting the proper purgation of these emotions.

For the Greeks language had a potent magical force to it:

Fearful shuddering and tearful pity and sorrowful longing come upon those who hear it, and the soul experiences a peculiar feeling, on account of the words, at the good and bad fortunes of other people’s affairs and bodies. But come, let me proceed from one section to another. By means of words, inspired incantations serve as bringers-on of pleasure and takers-off of pain. For the incantation’s power, communicating with the soul’s opinion, enchants and persuades and changes it, by trickery. Two distinct methods of trickery and magic are to be found: errors of soul, and deceptions of opinion. (Gorgias, Encomium of Helen)

A force that is still being felt millennia later, as Michael Meade’s use of tragic plays to heal wounded soldiers so ably demonstrates:

A soldier returns home from battle but has brought the war with him. He stares off into the distance, unable to take joy in his family or friends, still hyperalert to threats he no longer faces. Unable to heal his invisible wound, he takes his own life. This isn’t a tragic news story about a veteran coming back from Afghanistan with a case of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). It’s a summary of the Greek play “Ajax,” which is more than 2,000 years old.

The Greeks didn’t call it PTSD. But they understood that war brought trauma (from the Greek word meaning “wound”), which left some warriors with a thousand-yard stare long after they returned home. Advocates and the military itself have found that ancient myths and stories like “Ajax” can help veterans and active-duty soldiers cope with the overwhelming psychological stress that the country’s longest war has put on its relatively small volunteer force.

[…]

Meade calls himself a “mythologist,” and he uses ancient stories from Ireland, Greece, India and other cultures to prod veterans into unloading their experiences and making sense of them over four-day retreats on the West Coast. Veterans in Meade’s program also sing ancient warrior chants together, take part in a “forgiveness” ceremony, and write and recite poetry. He believes that many ancient cultures did a better job of formally welcoming returning warriors home and helping to collectively shoulder some of their burdens.

“Everyone wants to tell their story,” Meade said. “Even the most wounded people, given the chance, want to tell the story of that wound. A wound is like a mouth.”

May our Lord Dionysos bring his healing and redemptive madness to all those who are in need it:

Madness can provide relief from the greatest plagues of trouble that beset certain families because of their guilt for ancient crimes: it turns up among those who need a way out; it gives prophecies and takes refuge in prayers to the Gods and in worship, discovering mystic rites and purifications that bring the man it touches through to safety for this and all time to come. So it is that the right sort of madness finds relief from present hardships for a man it has possessed. (Plato, Phaedrus 244de)

I was rereading the honey, castration and aischrorrêmosunai portion of my piece on the Priapic mysteries when something about this passage from Plato caught my eye.

Take that which we call ousia (reality, essence); some people call it essia, and still others ôsia. First, then, in connection with the second of these forms, it is reasonable that the essence of things be called Hestia; and moreover, because we ourselves say of that which partakes of reality ‘it is’ (estin), the name Hestia would be correct in this connection also; for apparently we also called ousia (reality) essia in ancient times. And besides, if you consider it in connection with sacrifices, you would come to the conclusion that those who established them understood the name in that way; for those who called the essence of things essia would naturally sacrifice to Hestia first of all the Gods. Those on the other hand, who say ôsia would agree, well enough with Herakleitos that all things move and nothing remains still. So they would say the cause and ruler of things was the pushing power (ôthoun), wherefore it had been rightly named ôsia. (Kratylos 400d – 401b)

Two things, actually. 

Esia is what the Etruscans called Ariadne.

And I’ve bolded the other. 

From Neil Gaiman’s short story The Return of the Thin White Duke:

The Duke contemplated losing his head to this woman, and found the prospect less disturbing than he would have expected.

A wind blew through the garden of dead flowers, and the Duke was put in mind of perfumed ghosts.

“Would you like to know the answer?” she asked.

“Answers,” he said. “Surely.”

“Only one answer, and it is this: the heart,” said the Queen. “The heart is greater than the universe, for it can find pity in it for everything in the universe, and the universe itself can feel no pity. The heart is greater than a King, because a heart can know a King for what he is, and still love him. And once you give your heart, you cannot take it back.”

“I said a kiss,” said the Duke.

“It was not as wrong as the other answers,” she told him. The wind gusted higher and wilder and for a heartbeat the air was filled with dead petals. Then the wind was gone as suddenly as it appeared, and the broken petals fell to the floor.

I wonder how the Bacchus Ladies have been doing under coronavirus. May Phryne and her God Isodaites look after them. 

Here’s a really important post from Dver y’all should read called: The spirits in your neighborhood. Don’t let the government stop you from getting to know them. 

Ennio Morricone was one of the best composers of the 20th century.

Fight me if you disagree.

I’m serious, though. Just listen to the music as music, completely divorced from the films and its cultural accretions. Its rich and robust and deceptively simple. Both epic and earthy – and fundamentally Italian, despite the subject matter.

I’m really stoned.

I really enjoyed tonight’s session, conveying your prayers to Dionysos. It was pretty intense, actually. When I read one of the petitions I got hit with this palpable wave of emotion from him that left me crying for a good ten minutes or so, before I could move on to the next. And that was just the most extreme example – I felt him feel something for each of people on the list. This was a wonderful reminder of what a caring and generous God our Dionysos is. Thank you for letting me serve him and you in this way. I think I’m going to make this a weekly thing. 

It’s funny how reality is bending itself to our festival calendar.

The next one – Agrionia – is all about an eruption of collective insanity caused by being cooped up too long during a city-devastating epidemic. Which, in fairness, is the aition for a bunch of Dionysian festivals. This is the one that features Melampos, the second prophet of our tradition. 

This is Nancy Harris’ painting of a Blackfoot medicine man, not Melampos but I can see how one could make that mistake.

Melampos was a religious specialist who used drugs and dance to effect cures, and created a strain of Bacchic mysteries involving puppets and giant penises whilst visiting Egypt, which he (re)introduced throughout large swaths of archaic Greece upon his return. Like Orpheus he was a king, though he won his dominion through trickery rather than blood. You can learn more about him here.

As I was saying, by the time May 20th rolls around a lot of folks are going to have a newfound sympathy for Jack Torrance. We’ll also be adjusting to life in a post-Constitutional America during a global economic crisis, with earthquakes, hurricanes and intermittent rioting and looting in the streets.

Which will make it the perfect time to honor the God of freedom and wildness, our savage Dionysos.

You see, by embracing his small madness we inoculate ourselves against the great madness that is soon to be sweeping through the land.   

What is this madness of his?

It is life and wholeness, truth and joy surpassing all description.

Products of our culture, conditioning and times this can only seem frighteningly insane to us. A complete inversion that will utterly destroy our carefully crafted illusions, uproot and disorient our tame lives in ways we cannot even conceive.

And it does. It so fucking does.

But it’s worth it. Whatever he asks, however he challenges you.

To feel even the smallest bit of him, for the briefest of moments – it’s worth it.

Dionysos is better than any drug, and I should know as I’ve tried a lot of drugs!

Dancing with him is like facing down a cyclone or riding a bucking bull.

Electrifying.

How are you guys holding up through this?

Need any prayers said?

Share something beautiful you’ve seen this week.

Scholiast on Apollonios Rhodios, Argonautika 3.467
According to the hymns of Orpheus Hekate was a daughter of Deo; according to Bacchylides, a daughter of Nyx; according to Musaeus, a daughter of Zeus and Asteria; and according to Pherecydes, she was a daughter of Aristaios.

Pausanias, Description of Greece 2.30.2
Of the Gods, the Aiginetans worship most Hekate, in whose honour every year they celebrate mystic rites which, they say, Orpheus the Thracian established among them. Within the enclosure is a temple; its wooden image is the work of Myron, and it has one face and one body. It was Alkamenes of Athens, in my opinion, who first made three images of Hekate attached to one another.

Proem of the Orphic Argonautika
When driven by the goad of Kings Bakchos and Apollon, I described their terrible shafts, and likewise I disclosed the cure for feeble mortal bodies and the Great Rites to initiates. Truly, above all I disclosed the stern inevitability of ancient Chaos, and Time, who in his boundless coils, produced Aether, and the twofold, beautiful, and noble Eros, whom the younger men call Phanes, celebrated parent of eternal Night, because he himself first manifested. Then, I sang of the race of powerful Brimo, and the destructive acts of the giants, who spilled their gloomy seed from the sky begetting the men of old, whence came forth mortal stock, which resides throughout the boundless world. And I sang of the service of Zeus, and of the cult of the Mother and how wandering in the Cybelean mountains she conceived the girl Persephone by the unconquerable son of Kronos, and of the renowned tearing of Kasmilos by Herakles, and of the sacred oath of Idaios, and of the immense oak of the Korybantes, and of the wanderings of Demeter, her great sorrow for Persephone, and her lawgiving. And also I sang of the splendid gift of the Kabeiroi, and the silent oracles of Night about Lord Bakchos, and of the sea of Samothrace and of Cyprus, and of the love of Aphrodite for Adonis. And I sang of the rites of Praxidike and the mountain nights of Athela, and of the lamentations of Egypt, and of the holy offerings to Osiris. And also I taught the multitudinous ways prophesying: from the motion of wild birds and from the positions of entrails; how to receive the prophetic dreams that pierce the mind in sleep, and the interpretation of signs and omens and what the motion of the stars means. I taught atonement that brings great happiness for mortals; and how to supplicate the gods and give offerings to the dead. And I described that which I gained by sight and thought when on the dark way of entering Haides via Taenaron, relying on my cithara, through the love of my wife. And I described the sacred test of the Egyptians in Memphis that is used to convey prophesy, and the sacred city of Apis, which is surrounded by the river Nile.

Orphic Argonautika 122 ff
After I came to the enclosures and the sacred place, I dug a three-sided pit in some flat ground. I quickly brought some trunks of juniper, dry cedar, prickly boxthorn and weeping black poplars, and in the pit I made a pyre of them. Skilled Medeia brought to me many drugs, taking them from the innermost part of a chest smelling of incense. At once, I fashioned certain images from barley-meal [the text is corrupt here]. I threw them onto the pyre, and as a sacrifice to honor the dead, I killed three black puppies. I mixed with their blood copper sulfate, soapwort, a sprig of safflower, and in addition odorless fleawort, red alkanet, and bronze-plant. After this, I filled the bellies of the puppies with this mixture and placed them on the wood. Then I mixed the bowels with water and poured the mixture around the pit. Dressed in a black mantle, I sounded bronze cymbals and made my prayer to the Furies. They heard me quickly, and breaking forth from the caverns of the gloomy abyss, Tisiphone, Allecto, and divine Megaira arrived, brandishing the light of death in their dry pine torches. Suddenly the pit blazed up, and the deadly fire crackled, and the unclean flame sent high its smoke. At once, on the far side of the fire, the terrible, fearful, savage goddesses arose. One had a body of iron. The dead call her Pandora. With her came one who takes on various shapes, having three heads, a deadly monster you do not wish to know: Hekate of Tartarus. From her left shoulder leapt a horse with a long mane. On her right should there could be seen a dog with a maddened face. The middle head had the shape of a lion [or snake] of wild form. In her hand she held a well-hilted sword. Pandora and Hekate circled the pit, moving this way and that, and the Furies leapt with them. Suddenly the wooden guardian statue of Artemis dropped its torches from its hands and raised its eyes to heaven. Her canine companions fawned. The bolts of the silver bars were loosened, and the beautiful gates of the thick walls opened; and the sacred grove within came into view. I crossed the threshold.

Orphic Hymn 1. To Hecate
Lovely Hecate of the roads and crossroads I invoke;
In heaven, on earth, and in the sea, saffron-cloaked,
Tomb spirit, reveling in the souls of the dead,
Daughter of Perses, haunting deserted places, delighting in dear,
Nocturnal, dog-loving, monstrous queen,
Devouring wild beasts, ungirt, of repelling countenance.
You, herder of bulls, queen and mistress of the whole world,
Leader, nymph, mountain-roaming nurturer of youth, maiden,
I beseech you to come to these holy rites,
Ever with joyous heart and ever favoring the oxherd.

 

Jessica Blum, Witch’s Song: morality, name-calling and poetic authority in the Argonautica

https://www.academia.edu/4787356/_Witch_s_Song_morality_name-calling_and_poetic_authority_in_the_Argonautica_

Roberto Chiappiniello, The Italian Medeas of Corrado Alvaro and Pier Paolo Pasolini: Transformation of a Myth in Twentieth-century Italy

http://www2.open.ac.uk/ClassicalStudies/GreekPlays/newvoices/Issue8/chiappiniello.pdf

John Duchi, Medea and Deconstructing the Greek Construct of Men and Gods

http://stanford.edu/~jduchi/projects/Medea%20Paper.pdf

Edith Hall, Inventing the Barbarian: Greek Self-Definition through Tragedy

https://www.academia.edu/24984053/Inventing_the_Barbarian_Greek_Self-Definition_through_Tragedy

Marianne Hopman, Revenge and Mythopoiesis in Euripides’ Medea

http://faculty.wcas.northwestern.edu/~mih961/documents/HopmanRevengeandMythopoiesis.pdf

Elly Penman, “Toil and Trouble”: Changes of Imagery to Hekate and Medea in Ovid’s Metamorphoses

https://www.academia.edu/11730220/_Toil_and_Trouble_Changes_of_Imagery_to_Hekate_and_Medea_in_Ovids_Metamorphoses

Peter Toohey, Medea’s Lovesickness: Eros and melancholia 

https://www.press.umich.edu/pdf/047211302X-ch2.pdf

Turkilsen & Blasweiler, Medea, Cytissorus, Hekate, they all came from Aea: Historical and Cultic Evidence from Hellas in the Golden Fleece Myths

https://www.academia.edu/9332057/Medea_Cytissorus_Hekate_they_all_came_from_Aea

Yulia Ustinova, Jason the Shaman

https://www.academia.edu/1223186/Jason_the_Shaman