In case it’s not clear from the posts I’ve been making this week I firmly believe in the efficacy of prayer. As an Orpheotelest I’m also down with protective charms, the healing properties of plants and stones as well as a host of customs which are not inaccurately classed as superstitions.

But I’m not a stupid man – these things work best in conjunction with pragmatic and proactive measures. “Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition,” as it says in the Bible.

Which is why I am frankly baffled by the response of Mexican President Andrés Manuel López Obrador to our present pandemic, as reported by Kate Linthicum of the Los Angeles Times: 

“Pandemics won’t do anything to us,” he said on Monday while accusing the media and his political opponents of exaggerating the threat of the virus.

He has declined to close his borders or ban travel from particularly afflicted countries and has brazenly ignored recommendations from his own deputy health minister that Mexicans refrain from greeting each other with a customary hug and kiss.

At a large rally over the weekend, Lopez Obrador waded proudly into the crowd, kissing children and embracing supporters. He has made a show of waving off offerings of antibacterial gel. And on Wednesday, before appearing at another large event, he showcased a collection of good-luck charms that he carries with him, including Catholic scapulars and a $2 bill.

“They are my bodyguards,” he said, smiling.

This laissez-faire approach has led to increased tensions with El Salvador and other Latin American countries, with some even speculating that we could soon see armed conflict in the region.

In what is certainly unrelated news, CNN reported that a 5.7-magnitude earthquake ravaged Utah on Wednesday, dislodging the trumpet of the Angel Moroni from the iconic Latter-Day Saints Temple in Salt Lake City.

Strange behavior has also been witnessed among the world’s sea creatures.

Couple of interesting articles to share with you guys today. Here’s one on the cats of Freyja. Here’s one on the Jews of Loki. And here’s one on Apollon, Dionysos, and the Multivalent Birds of Euripides’ Ion. 

My wife shared prayers to the Healing Gods Apollon and Eir, and then offered sets of prayer cards to her readers. To be eligible for the giveaway, however, you must write prayers to the Healers. Do consider contributing – the deadline is March 31st. 

 

Sophokles, Choral Ode from the Antigone
God of the many names, Semele’s golden child,
child of Olympian thunder, all Italy’s Lord.
Lord of Eleusis, where all men come
to mother Demeter’s plain.
Bacchus, who dwell in Thebes,
by Ismenus’ running water,
where wild Bacchic women are at home,
on the soil of the dragon seed.

Seen in the glaring flame, high on the double mount,
with the Nymphs of Parnassus at play on the hill,
seen by Kastalia’s flowing stream.
You come from the ivied heights,
from green Euboea’s shore.
In immortal words we cry
your name, Lord, who watch the ways,
the many ways of Thebes.

This is your city, honored beyond the rest,
the town of your mother’s miracle-death.
Now, as we wrestle our grim disease,
come with healing step from Parnassus’ slope
or over the moaning sea.

Leader in the dance of the fire-pulsing stars
overseer of the voices of night,
child of Zeus, be manifest,
with due companionship of Maenad maids
whose cry is but your name.

Philodamos’ Paian to Dionysos
I. Come here, Lord Dithyrambos, Bakchos, God of jubilation, Bull, with a crown of ivy in your hair, Roarer, oh come in this holy season of spring – euhoi, o io Bakchos, o ie Paian! Once upon a time, in ecstatic Thebes, Thyona bore you to Zeus and became mother of a beautiful son. All immortals started dancing, all mortals rejoicing at your birth, o Bacchic God. – Ie Paian, come o Saviour, and kindly keep this city in happy prosperity.

II. On that day Kadmos’ famous country jumped up in Bacchic revelry, the vale of the Minyans, too, and fertile Euboia – euhoi, o io Bakchos, o ie Paian! Brimful with hymns, the holy and blessed country of Delphi was dancing. And you yourself, you revealed you starry shape, taking position on the crags of Parnassos, accompanied by Delphic maidens. – Ie Paian, come o Saviour, and kindly keep this city in happy prosperity.

III. Swinging your firebrand in your hand – light in the darkness of night – you arrived in your enthusiastic frenzy in the flower-covered vale of Eleusis – euhoi, o io Bakchos, o ie Paian! There the entire Greek nation, surrounding the indigenous witnesses of the holy Mysteries, invokes you as Iakchos: you have opened for mankind a haven, relief from suffering. – Ie Paian, come o Saviour, and kindly keep this city in happy prosperity.

IV…….

V. From that blessed country you came to the cities of Thessaly, to the sacred domain of Olympos and famous Pieria – euhoi, o io Bakchos, o ie Paian! and forthwith did the Muses crown themselves with ivy; they all sang and danced around you, proclaiming you to be ‘Forever immortal and famous Paian’! Apollo had taken the lead in this dance. – Ie Paian, come o Saviour, and kindly keep this city in happy prosperity.

VI….VII….VIII…..

IX. The God commands the Amphiktyons to execute the action with speed, so that he who shoots from afar may restrain his anger – euhoi, o io Bakchos, o ie Paian! – and to present this hymn for his brother to the family of the Gods, on the occasion of the annual feast of hospitality, and to make a public sacrifice on the occasion of the Panhellenic supplications of blessed Hellas. – Ie Paian, come o Saviour, and kindly keep this city in happy prosperity.

X. O blessed and fortunate the generation of those mortals who build for Lord Apollo, a never-decaying, never-to-be-defiled temple – euhoi, o io Bakchos, o ie Paian! – a golden temple with golden sculptures where the Goddesses encircle Paian, his hair shining in ivory, adorned with an indigenous wreath. – Ie Paian, come o Saviour, and kindly keep this city in happy prosperity.

XI. To the organizers of his quadrennial Pythian Festival the God has given the command to establish in honour of Bakchos a sacrifice and a competition of many dithyrambs – euhoi, o io Bakchos, o ie Paian! – and to erect an attractive statue of Bakchos like the bright beams of the rising sun, standing on a chariot drawn by golden lions and to furnish a grotto suitable to the holy God. – Ie Paian, come o Saviour, and kindly keep this city in happy prosperity.

XII. Come on then, and welcome Dionysos, God of the Bakchants, and call upon him in your streets with dances performed by people with ivy in their hair who sing ‘Euhoi, o io Bakchos, o ie Paian!’ All over blessed Hellas…dithyrambs. Hail thou, Lord of Health. – Ie Paian, come o Saviour, and kindly keep this city in happy prosperity.

TurningTides wrote:

Thank you for this prayer to Lord Reshep! May He aid those who wade in front of this pandemic tide–the health care workers, the doctors who must see those already suffering with symptoms and/or fear. For this pandemic is affecting all of us, so may we learn what tools we need to make, so that we come out of this time prepared to live closer on the Gods’ paths for us.

To which I responded: 

Beautifully said. And I think during this we especially need to be praying for the doctors, nurses and EMTs who aren’t just putting their lives at risk to help us all, but their psychological well-being too from witnessing both what this is doing to their patients, and to their colleagues.

May Rešeph, Ešmoun, Nintinugga, Sekhmet, Anāhitā, Kamrušepa, Yahweh, Babalu Aye, Sukunabhikona-no-Kami, Parṇaśabarī, Sheetala Devi, Apollon, Asklepios, Hygeia, Eir, Živena and all of the other Healing Deities great and small be with them and with us during this crisis.

Lucian, How to Write History
There is a story of a curious epidemic at Abdera, just after the accession of King Lysimachus. It began with the whole population’s exhibiting feverish symptoms, strongly marked and consistent from the very first attack. About the seventh day, the fever was relieved, in some cases by a violent flow of blood from the nose, in others by perspiration no less violent. The mental effects, however, were most ridiculous; they were all stage-struck, mouthing blank verse and ranting at the top of their voices. Their favourite recitation was the Andromeda of Euripides; one after another would go through the great speech of Perseus; the whole place was full of pale ghosts, who were our seventh-day tragedians vociferating: ‘O Love, who lord’st it over Gods and men…’ and the rest of it. This continued for some time, till the coming of winter put an end to their madness with a sharp frost. I find the explanation of the form the madness took in this fact: Archelaus was then the great tragic actor, and in the middle of the summer, during some very hot weather, he had played the Andromeda in Abdera; most of them took the fever in the theatre, and convalescence was followed by a relapse – into tragedy, the Andromeda haunting their memories.

Antonin Artaud, The Theatre and its Double
For if theatre is like the plague, this is not just because it acts on large groups and disturbs them in one and the same way. There is both something victorious and vengeful in theatre just as in the plague, for we clearly feel that the spontaneous fire the plague lights as it passes by is nothing but a gigantic liquidation. The plague takes dormant images, latent disorder and suddenly carries them to the point of the most extreme gestures. Theatre also takes gestures and develops them to the limit. Just like the plague, it reforges the links between what does and does not exist, between the virtual nature of the possible and the material nature of existence. It rediscovers the idea of figures and archetypal symbols which act like sudden silences, fermatas, heart stops, adrenaline calls, incendiary images surging into our abruptly woken minds. It restores all our dormant conflicts and their powers, giving these powers names we acknowledge as signs. Here a bitter clash of symbols takes place before us, hurled one against the other in an inconceivable riot. For theatre can only happen the moment the inconceivable really begins, where poetry taking place on stage nourishes and superheats created symbols. These symbols are symbols of full-blown powers held in bondage until that moment and unusable in real life, exploding in the guise of incredible images giving existence and the freedom of the city to acts naturally opposed to social life. A real stage play disturbs our peace of mind, releases our repressed subconscious, drives us to a kind of potential rebellion (since it retains its full value only if it remains potential), calling for a difficult heroic attitude on the part of the assembled groups.

Back on 02/17/2020 Maya Margit reported that archaeologists had unearthed a 3,000 year old temple to the Canaanite God Rešeph:

Led by Prof. Yosef Garfinkel of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem and Prof. Michael Hasel of Southern Adventist University in Tennessee, the team published their findings in the Levant journal last month following years of excavations.

Located in south-central Israel, Tel Lachish is the site of the biblical Lachish, a major Canaanite city during the Middle and Late Bronze Ages that was later conquered by the Israelites. It was one of the only Canaanite cities to survive into the 12th century BCE.

“We excavated a new temple in the northeast corner of the site that dates to the 12th century BCE,” Garfinkel told The Media Line. “It was extremely rich with objects and also [had] an inscription, which is very, very rare. The last time a Canaanite inscription was found was about 40 years ago.” The aforementioned inscription was found on a pottery shard and features the oldest-known example of the letter “samekh.”

“In general, temples in the ancient Near East were not like churches or synagogues that you could enter,” Weissbein said. “It’s a different type of cultic activity. Only a few elites – priests or maybe kings – entered to do some rituals there because it was a house of gods, not a house of worship in a way… We found two figurines of male deities,” Weissbein stated. “They probably represent Baal, one of the main deities of the Canaanites, like a storm god or a fertility god … and another deity called Resheph, more of a warlike deity.”

Well, not quite Weissbein. Although Rešeph is unquestionably a mighty warrior, he is also the Hurler of Thunder, the Lord of Fire and Destruction and God of Fever, Illness and Pestilence. He was worshiped in Ugarit, Syro-Palestine, Phoenicia, Egypt and the Eastern Mediterranean and has a growing cult among contemporary polytheists from different traditions. Our household maintains a shrine for him, and I have a strong suspicion that there’s history between Rešeph and Dionysos (though I’ll save that for another post.) Needless to say, when I caught the story about the unearthing of Rešeph’s temple on the Wild Hunt, my interest was piqued.

Especially when I read the bit about the Samekh inscription. 

Samekh has a numerical value of 60, and is the 15th letter in the Hebrew, Aramaic and Phoenician alphabets – where in the latter it is called sāmek, and has the following shape 𐤎, thought to represent a tent-peg, a tree or something like the djed-pillar. 

Now I am not going to go into the mysteries of this Phoenician letter as they are not mine to share – but Hebrew gematria is totally up for grabs! 

In discussing the significance of this letter Rabbi Aaron L. Raskin of Chabad.org begins by telling the following anecdote:

Yaakov had been terribly ill for weeks. He finally decided to ask R. Mordechai of Neshchiz for advice. “Rebbe,” he sobbed, “please help me. I am extremely sick. I have gone to every doctor in town, but none of them has a cure for me.”

“It seems that you haven’t gone to the right doctor,” replied R. Mordechai. “Go immediately to Anipoli and talk to the specialist there. Then you will be cured.”

Yaakov thanked the Rebbe for his advice, hired a wagon, and set out for Anipoli. When he arrived there, he rushed over to the first person he saw and asked, “Please, tell me where the great specialist lives. I am very ill and must see him right away.”

The person was puzzled. “You came to Anipoli for a specialist?! This is such a small village, we don’t even have a doctor here.”

[…]

Disappointed and frustrated, Yaakov returned to R. Mordechai of Neshchiz. “Rebbe,” he said, “I don’t understand. You sent me to Anipoli, but the people told me that not only is there no specialist there, there is not even a doctor.”

“Hmm. They don’t even have a doctor?” questioned the Rebbe. “So did you ask the people what they do when someone is sick?”

“I did,” Yaakov replied. “They told me that when someone is sick, they pray to G‑d and rely on Him to cure them.”

“Now do you understand?” R. Mordechai explained. “The people in Anipoli go to the greatest specialist in the world. They pray to G‑d. He is the one Who cures us all.”

And then informs us:

The numerical value of the samech, the fifteenth letter of the alef-beis, is sixty. In the Priestly Blessing recited every morn­ing there are fifteen words and sixty letters. When the kohen blesses the people, he must put his two hands together. According to the Mishnah there are thirty bones in each hand, sixty when the hands are joined. What is unique about the Priestly Blessing? The results of such blessings are swift and without interruption, similar to the strength of a current of mighty water that no dam can stop. The Priestly Blessings embody the concept of the samech: infinite light and power.

Rabbi Raskin goes on to note:

The circular aspect of the samech represents support, like the rings that encircle and hold together all the elements of the lulav. The ring also symbolizes a couple’s commitment to each other. A woman symbolizes her uncompromising support of her husband by circling him seven times under the chuppah. Simi­larly, the man’s commitment is symbolized by the giving of a ring. When you pick up someone who has fallen, you support and encircle him or her. With the wedding ring we are saying in effect, “This ring has no beginning or end, no highs or lows. The characteristic of encircling is constant. So, too, will my commitment to you be constant, encompassing your whole being, regardless of the highs and lows of the relationship.”

So in other words Samekh is about a circular disease – a coronavirus, if you will – which we will only survive by loving and supporting one another as well as priestly prayer to the Healing Gods. 

Got it. 

*clears throat*

Hail Rešeph, may your protection and restoration be upon all those whose lips are sweet from tirelessly praising your precious name! Rešeph! Rešeph! Rešeph!

 

It would seem that the latest casualty of the coronavirus is the U.S. Constitution.

From Florida:

“Late-night revelry simply will not be allowed” in St. Petersburg as long as the COVID-19 coronavirus is a threat, Mayor Rick Kriseman said Monday.

The mayor’s comments came while he was announcing a state of emergency for the city of St. Pete. His order, which goes into effect immediately, means no public events, weddings, sporting events, or any other gatherings that draw more than 50 people will be permitted on public or private property.

From Illinois: 

The mayor of Champaign, Illinois, gave herself the power to ban the sale of guns and alcohol after declaring a citywide emergency to address the coronavirus.

Mayor Deborah Frank Feinen signed the executive order on Thursday declaring a state of emergency for the city. That executive order, which is in line with municipal code, comes with extraordinary powers for the mayor to enact over a short period of time as the city combats the spread of the coronavirus.

Among the powers Feinen gained after signing the executive order was the power to ban the sale of guns, ammunition, alcohol, and gasoline. Feinen could also cut off access to individuals’ gas, water, or electricity. The city also has the ability to “take possession of private property” or order the temporary closing of all bars or liquor stores.

Just two examples from two states, and that’s already half the amendments broken. I could go on, but I’m guessing your Twitter and Facebook feeds have been a constant barrage and you don’t need me adding to it.

But I wonder how long until you’ll be able to watch from your window as tanks and heavily armed National Guard troops march down our deserted streets. Not long, it would seem.

Don’t worry, the government has everything under control – and they are doing this only with the public good in mind.

As fond as I am of Ovid’s treatment of Liberalia in the Fasti, I think Augustine’s description below really takes the cake:

Now as to the rites of Liber, whom they have set over liquid seeds, and therefore not only over the liquors of fruits, among which wine holds, so to speak, the primacy, but also over the seeds of animals:— as to these rites, I am unwilling to undertake to show to what excess of turpitude they had reached, because that would entail a lengthened discourse, though I am not unwilling to do so as a demonstration of the proud stupidity of those who practice them. Varro says that certain rites of Liber were celebrated in Italy which were of such unrestrained wickedness that the shameful parts of the male were worshipped at crossroads in his honour. Nor was this abomination transacted in secret that some regard at least might be paid to modesty, but was openly and wantonly displayed. 

For during the festival of Liber this obscene member, placed on a little wagon, was first exhibited with great honour at the crossroads in the countryside, and then conveyed into the city itself. But in the town of Lavinium a whole month was devoted to Liber alone, during the days of which all the people gave themselves up to the must dissolute conversation, until that member had been carried through the forum and brought to rest in its own place; on which unseemly member it was necessary that the most honorable matron should place a wreath in the presence of all the people. Thus, forsooth, was the God Liber to be appeased in order for the growth of seeds. Thus was enchantment (fascinatio) to be driven away from fields, even by a matron’s being compelled to do in public what not even a harlot ought to be permitted to do in a theatre, if there were matrons among the spectators. (De Civitate Dei 7.21)

And that cake (or liba) is penis-shaped, just like the giant phalloi that were trotted around the city and countryside in their little wagons, imbuing the land with fertility and driving off winter sterility and malignant enchantment.

This naturally reminds one of similar Bacchic rites carried out during Anthesteria and Dionysia, but also of a Vanic ceremony recorded in Chapter 40 of Tacitus’ Germania:

The Langobardi, by contrast, are distinguished by the fewness of their numbers. Ringed round as they are by many mighty peoples, they find safety not in obsequiousness but in battle and its perils. After them come the Reudingi, Aviones, Anglii, Varini, Eudoses, Suarini and Nuitones, behind their ramparts of rivers and woods. There is nothing noteworthy about these peoples individually, but they are distinguished by a common worship of Nerthus, or Mother Earth. They believe that she interests herself in human affairs and rides among their peoples. In an island of the Ocean stands a sacred grove, and in the grove a consecrated cart, draped with cloth, which none but the priest may touch. The priest perceives the presence of the Goddess in this holy of holies and attends her, in deepest reverence, as her cart is drawn by heifers. Then follow days of rejoicing and merry-making in every place that she deigns to visit and be entertained. No one goes to war, no one takes up arms; every object of iron is locked away; then, and only then, are peace and quiet known and loved, until the priest again restores the Goddess to her temple, when she has had her fill of human company. After that the cart, the cloth and, if you care to believe it, the Goddess herself are washed in clean in a secluded lake. 

Then there’s the Völsi, a magically preserved horse’s penis that was used in household cultus. You can read the original account from the Völsa þáttr, as well as some potent analysis here (which goes into some of the herbs that may have been used to preserve the phallos, among other fascinating details) and this page, which also has some pics of the sacred dicks and related ritual implements – which, like the tools in Liber’s ceremony, are primarily handled by respected, pious Matrons. 

Here are 6 Gnossiennes by French composer Erik Satie:

The term is a neologism coined by Satie in the late 19th century for “compositions with a dance-like quality.” Later, to honor his mentor Francis Poulenc also wrote some.

According to Wikipedia:

The word appears to derive from gnosis. Satie was involved in gnostic sects and movements at the time that he began to compose the Gnossiennes. However, some published versions claim that the word derives from Cretan “knossos” or “gnossus”; this interpretation supports the theory linking the Gnossiennes to the myth of Theseus, Ariadne and the Minotaur. Several archeological sites relating to that theme were famously excavated around the time that Satie composed the Gnossiennes.

However, I prefer the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows’ definition:

gnossienne
n. a moment of awareness that someone you’ve known for years still has a private and mysterious inner life, and somewhere in the hallways of their personality is a door locked from the inside, a stairway leading to a wing of the house that you’ve never fully explored—an unfinished attic that will remain maddeningly unknowable to you, because ultimately neither of you has a map, or a master key, or any way of knowing exactly where you stand.

In 1891 Satie published Le Fils des étoiles (The Son of the Stars) for Joséphin Péladan’s Rosicrucian play of the same name, which includes what many consider the 7th Gnossienne despite its different tone and subject matter. 

Freyja’s cats are mentioned twice in the Gylfaginning, first in his general description of the Goddess:

Sessrumir, her hall, is large and beautiful. And when she travels, she drives two cats and sits in a chariot. (24)

And again when Snorri describes the Gods attending Baldr’s funeral:

…Freyr drove in a chariot with a boar called Gullinbursti or Slíðrugtanni. But Heimdallr rode a horse called Gulltoppr, and Freyia her cats. (50)

Additionally in the Skaldskaparmal we are told:

How shall Freyja be referred to? By calling her daughter of Njörðr, sister of Freyr, wife of Óðr, mother of Hnoss, possessor of the fallen slain and of Sessrumir and tom-cats…

And that’s pretty much it until the Romantics.

Nowhere are their names given, which has led Neopagans into some rather fanciful speculation. 

Most people are probably familiar with the names Diana L. Paxson provides in her fantasy novel Brisingamen: “Tregul” (Tree-gold, or Amber) and “Bygul” (Bee-gold, or Honey.) 

Cute. Doesn’t really resonate with me, but one could certainly do worse. 

Amy Sey’s suggestion, for instance, that they are named after her daughters Hnoss and Gersemi. 

No. Just no.

Someone who so loves her daughters that she names them both “Treasure” isn’t going to turn around and give that to her cats, no matter how fond she is of them.

Unless Amy was suggesting that Freyja’s daughters were her cats which … again, just no. Besides, Skaldskaparmal calls them toms so they’d at least have the male form of the word. Though I suppose she could have more than just two cats, but I doubt any of them were named after her children, even Komos. Plus that would mean she yokes her children to her wagon or chariot, and that seems out of character to me. 

It did not escape my notice that Liberalia celebrates Dionysos’ connection with bees and their liquid treasure just before we spring into the Gold Season.

There is another hill not far from Philippi which is called the Hill of Dionysos, in which are gold mines called the Asyla. (Appian, Civil Wars 4.13.106 )

This is when we honor him as the King:

It seems suitable to point out the various discoveries of different persons. Father Liber instituted buying and selling, and also invented the emblem of royalty, the crown, and the triumphal procession. (Pliny the Elder, Natural History 7.191)

And when he is closest to the Fairies and Goblins in his Retinue.

I believe that the creatures called “Goblins” in those sources are a combination of Dökkálfar and Κόβαλοι (with a few other random forest creatures added to the mix over the years), and I told a story about his first meeting with them here. You’ll note that it is essentially a retelling of Walter Map’s tale of King Herla from De Nugis Curiallium, but with a name-change for the Ruler Below:

The old stories tell us that Herla, the king of the very ancient Britons, was led into a compact by another king, seemingly a pigmy in the lowness of his stature, which did not exceed that of an ape. As the story hath it, this dwarf drew near, sitting on a huge goat—just such a man as Pan is pictured, with glowing face, enormous head, and a red beard so long that it touched his breast (which was brightly adorned with a dappled fawn skin), a hairy belly, and thighs which degenerated into goat-feet. Herla spake to him with no one by. Quoth the pigmy: ‘I, the king of many kings and chiefs and of a people numerous beyond all count, come willingly, sent from them to thee, and though I am to thee unknown, yet I glory in the fame which hath raised thee high above other kings, since thou art the best and the nearest to me in place and blood, and art moreover worthy of having me grace with high honour thy wedding as a guest, when the King of the French giveth his daughter to thee—an arrangement concluded with¬out thy knowledge, and Jo, his messengers come this very day. Let there be an abiding compact between us, that I shall attend thy wedding, and thou mine a year later to the day.’ With these words he turned his back with more than a tiger’s swiftness and vanished from the king’s sight.

In my story he is named Adranos after the Sicilian fire-God who lived beneath Aetna with his sons the Palikoi and thousand hunting hounds before being driven out by Hephaistos. But more on them later. 

I believe the Fairies in Dionysos’ Retinue are actually a tribe of Ljósálfar or Light Elves who swore their loyalty to him (whether or not he’s a son of Óðinn and Prince of Álfheimr) and fought under him during the Æsir-Vanir War. When he afterward went into exile they followed, forming one of the oldest strata of the Retinue along with the Satyrs and Titans:

The struggle having proved sharp and many having fallen on both sides, Kronos finally was wounded and victory lay with Dionysos, who had distinguished himself in the battle. Thereupon the Titans fled to the regions which had once been possessed by Ammon, and Dionysos gathered up a multitude of captives and returned to Nysa. Here, drawing up his force in arms about the prisoners, he brought a formal accusation against the Titans and gave them every reason to suspect that he was going to execute the captives. But when he got them free from the charges and allowed them to make their choice either to join him in his campaign or to go scot free, they all chose to join him, and because their lives had been spared contrary to their expectation they venerated him like a God. Dionysos, then, taking the captives singly and giving them a libation of wine, required of all of them an oath that they would join in the campaign without treachery and fight manfully until death. (Diodoros Sikeliotes, Library of History 3.71.4-6)

Over the centuries other Fairies, Elves, Vily and assorted wood Spirits have joined but this tribe remains the core of the Nysan Fey. 

Although Liberalia isn’t part of the official Bakcheion festival calendar, I’ve been thinking about it a lot over the last couple days and am strongly considering celebrating it regardless.

In addition to the traditional features of the festival (which you can read about here, here and here) this was also considered the day when the divine Julius Caesar rose from the underworld after his assassination on the Ides and became a heavenly star. It is fitting that his apotheosis should occur on the feast day of the God, since he was saved by him on another Dionysian festival many years before. In thanks for being spared and granted this decisive military victory which significantly advanced his career, upon returning to Rome Julius Caesar lifted the ban on the Bacchanalia and reintroduced  thiasoi in the city.   

I’ve been reading over my collection of sources on the festival and discovered something rather interesting in Ovid’s Fasti. While I normally get caught on the delightful myth about the bees:

Libations (libamina) derive their name from their author, and so do cakes (liba), because part of them is offered on the hallowed hearths. Cakes are made for the God, because he delights in sweet juices, and they say that honey was discovered by Bacchus. Attended by the Satyrs he was going from sandy Hebrus (my tale includes a pleasant jest), and had come to Rhodope and flowery Pangaeus, when the cymbals in the hands of his companions clashed. Lo, drawn by the tinkle, winged things, as yet unknown, assemble, and the bees follow the sounding brass. Liber collected the stragglers and shut them up in a hollow tree; and he was rewarded by the discovery of honey. Once the Satyrs and the bald-pated ancient had tasted it, they sought for the yellow combs in every grove. In a hollow elm the old fellow heard the humming of a swarm; he spied the combs and kept his counsel. And sitting lazily on the back of an ass, and leaning upon a branch stump he greedily reached at the honey stored in the bole. Thousands of hornets gathered, and thrust their stings into his bald pate, and left their mark on his snub-nosed face. Headlong he fell, and the ass kicked him, while he called to his comrades and implored their help. The Satyrs ran to the spot and laughed at their parent’s swollen face: he limped on his hurt knee. Bacchus himself laughed and taught him to smear mud on his wounds; Silenus took the hint and smudged his face with mire. The Father God enjoys honey, and it is right that we should give to its discoverer golden honey infused in hot cakes. (3.735-762)

This time I pressed on, and discovered:

On this day, if I remember aright, and on the preceding day, there is a procession to the Argei. What the Argei are, will be told in the proper place. The star of the Kite slopes downwards towards the Lycaonian Bear: on that night it becomes visible. If you would know what raised the bird to heaven, it was this: Saturn had been dethroned by Jupiter. In his wrath he stirred up the strong Titans to take arms and sought the help the Fates allowed him. There was a bull born of its mother Earth, a wondrous monster, the hinder part whereof was a serpent: him, at the warning of the three Fates, grim Styx had shut up in gloomy woods enclosed by a triple wall. There was an oracle that he who should burn the innards of the bull in the flames would be able to conquer the eternal Gods. Briareus sacrificed him with an axe made of adamant, and was just about to put the entrails on the fire: Jupiter commanded the birds to snatch them away; the kite brought them to him and was promoted to the stars for his services.

Not only does the Bear put in an appearance, but we get an alternate explanation for why the Bull was placed in the Labyrinth. A Bull, mind you, that is also a Serpent:

After the tenth month she bears a daughter, of beautiful form, whom later ages have called now Libera, now Proserpine; whom when Jupiter Verveceus saw to be strong, plump, and blooming, forgetting what evils and what wickedness, and how great recklessness, he had a little before fallen into, he returns to his former practices; and because it seemed too wicked that a father openly be joined as in marriage with his daughter, he passes into the terrible form of a dragon: he winds his huge coils round the terrified maiden, and under a fierce appearance sports and caresses her in softest embraces. She, too, is in consequence filled with the seed of the most powerful Jupiter, but not as her mother was, for she bore a daughter like herself; but from the maiden was born something like a bull, to testify to her seduction by Jupiter. If any one asks who narrates this, then we shall quote the well-known senarian verse of a Tarentine poet which antiquity sings, saying “Taurus draconem genuit, et taurum draco” [“The bull begot a dragon, and the dragon a bull.”] Lastly, the sacred rites themselves, and the ceremony of initiation even, named Sebadia, might attest the truth; for in them a golden snake is let down into the bosom of the initiated, and taken away again from the lower parts. (Arnobius of Sicca, Adversus Nationes 5.20)

Dionysos, you cared about me, Dion, when I was alive; both when I danced with the boys and carried the nectar of Bromios at the symposia. But now I set you up beside my tomb, so that even when I am dead and in my future existence, even then I might see you. (SEG:Ecit. 34.1266)

These articles are relevant to one of the theories I mentioned earlier. 

• Midwinter dog sacrifices and warrior initiations in the Late Bronze Age at the site of Krasnosamarskoe, Russia by Dorcas R Brown
• Óðinn’s Berserks in Myth and Human Berserks in Reality by Anatoly Liberman
• The lycophoric names of the 6th to 7th century Blekinge rune stonesand the problem of their ideological background by Olle Sundqvist and Anders Hultgård
• The Horse Lords of Campochiaro by Anthony Gasparini
• Lycanthropy in Sarmatian Warrior Societies: The Kobyakovo Torque by Yulia Ustinova
• The Iranian Männerbund Revisited by Touraj Daryaee
• Shape of the Beast: The Theriomorphic and Therianthropic Deities and Demons of Ancient Italy by Wayne L. Rupp
• My Search for the Wild Hunt by Lezlie Kinyon

Each night I set aside some time to just sit and reflect on my Gods and Spirits. I push all other thoughts and concerns out of my mind to give them space in my head to do with as they please. It’s not prayer or meditation or an attempt to connect and communicate with them, though it can sometimes lead to those things. Most often I’m just thinking about them. How they have appeared to me in the past, the symbols and other things associated with them, myths and scholarly theories, songs and mantras and memorable bits of literature and poetry concerning them; all this I go over and get lost in. This is usually when I make my random connections and intuitive leaps which I later blog about. It’s just one of the devotional practices I have in my arsenal, and doesn’t take the place of the others – but it is something I can do to sustain my connection to them even through the fog of pain and illness when offerings, formal prayers and my ecstatic practices are a little harder to manage.