When the sun goes down, we start preparing things... molding snakes out
of clay, making beeswax candles, readying the feast food... and all the
small details that goes into setting up the ritual space.
It's already late when we begin.
A creosote branch dipped in saltwater cleanses the space, each other, and makes the small room smell like rain.
We vibrate our chakras, using Greek god names.* Our energies align, our senses open.
In the North, the bull. In the South, the snake. In the East, the vine. In the West, the ivy.
We call you, Dionysos! Bull-faced Lord of the Labyrinth. Gentle and kind-hearted God, who wed the fair Ariadne and gifted her with stars for jewels. Shape-changer, initiator, god of life. Come to us, like the roar of the ocean’s waves. Embrace us like the ivy, O Lord. We welcome you, Beloved God.
We call you, Ariadne! Lady of the Labyrinth, who holds the mysteries of the Underground and the ecstasies of the heavens. Daughter of the Moon, whose brothers are full of secrets - honeyed Glaucus and two-natured Asterion. Wife and lover of Dionysos, the most wild and ecstatic god. You lead the maenads in their dance. Bearer of serpents, you have known madness, grief and death, and have reclaimed your divinity. Your crown shines in the summer sky. Come to us, riding a panther and carrying your sacred thread, the color of blood. Priestess of the Bull, most holy and pure Ariadne, we celebrate your ascent to the heavens. We honor you, light in the darkness, You who holds the key. Come to us, with the grace of a swarm of bees, with the wide-eyed knowing of the owl. We feast for you, we dance for you, we would behold you, Beloved Goddess.
White wine from Crete is poured in offering. And honey is offered as well.
To All the Gods, honey. To the Mistress of the labyrinth, honey.
We meditate in silence to prepare. Incense smoke of dittany and bay fill the room. I feel Ariadne's presence like I have not before. She seems pleased, and is wordlessly bidding me prepare for what She has in store.
Then the drums begin, and we take the pose of the Minoan Snake Goddess.**
Arms raised aloft, the posture becomes strenuous in stages. Part of me feels sad that I do not sense Her anymore. But this feels like an initiation, so perhaps that is the point... I sweat and endure, in and out of trance. There is a vastness around me. My husband tells me later that he knew right away the posture was not for him, and was bid to be the bull, to dance for the Lady of the Labyrinth, instead. Snakes and bull. Snakes and bull. That is as much as can be put into words...
As we end that portion of the ritual, I feel invigorated. With a bottle of mead in one hand and a ball of red yarn in the other, we begin our walk to the labyrinth. The night is warm but not uncomfortable.
After walking a little over a mile, we are there. We spend some time looking at stars, pointing out constellations.
I walk first. I don't think of much particular, but I am calm and at peace. When I get to the center, I remember other labyrinths I have walked. How my shadow looked at sunrise the first time I walked a labyrinth, on my birthday, many years ago. The labyrinth I walked in Sedona when I made a life-altering decision. I feel the thread that ties me to those times, those selves. I face outward and notice how wide the night sky seems, and how in-the-middle-of-everything-
While my husband walks, I lay down on a bench and look at the stars. I lift up my ball of yarn and eclipse the moon. I pull out the string and imagine I'm connect it to various stars. As I bring my arms back together and let the yarn fall slack, it twists into the shape of a noose dangling towards my face. I smile.
On the walk back, my shoe breaks and I walk barefoot part of the way, but this doesn't bother me.
Exquisitely hungry and exhausted, once we get home we shower and feast before ceremoniously passing out.
It's already late when we begin.
A creosote branch dipped in saltwater cleanses the space, each other, and makes the small room smell like rain.
We vibrate our chakras, using Greek god names.* Our energies align, our senses open.
In the North, the bull. In the South, the snake. In the East, the vine. In the West, the ivy.
We call you, Dionysos! Bull-faced Lord of the Labyrinth. Gentle and kind-hearted God, who wed the fair Ariadne and gifted her with stars for jewels. Shape-changer, initiator, god of life. Come to us, like the roar of the ocean’s waves. Embrace us like the ivy, O Lord. We welcome you, Beloved God.
We call you, Ariadne! Lady of the Labyrinth, who holds the mysteries of the Underground and the ecstasies of the heavens. Daughter of the Moon, whose brothers are full of secrets - honeyed Glaucus and two-natured Asterion. Wife and lover of Dionysos, the most wild and ecstatic god. You lead the maenads in their dance. Bearer of serpents, you have known madness, grief and death, and have reclaimed your divinity. Your crown shines in the summer sky. Come to us, riding a panther and carrying your sacred thread, the color of blood. Priestess of the Bull, most holy and pure Ariadne, we celebrate your ascent to the heavens. We honor you, light in the darkness, You who holds the key. Come to us, with the grace of a swarm of bees, with the wide-eyed knowing of the owl. We feast for you, we dance for you, we would behold you, Beloved Goddess.
White wine from Crete is poured in offering. And honey is offered as well.
To All the Gods, honey. To the Mistress of the labyrinth, honey.
We meditate in silence to prepare. Incense smoke of dittany and bay fill the room. I feel Ariadne's presence like I have not before. She seems pleased, and is wordlessly bidding me prepare for what She has in store.
Then the drums begin, and we take the pose of the Minoan Snake Goddess.**
Arms raised aloft, the posture becomes strenuous in stages. Part of me feels sad that I do not sense Her anymore. But this feels like an initiation, so perhaps that is the point... I sweat and endure, in and out of trance. There is a vastness around me. My husband tells me later that he knew right away the posture was not for him, and was bid to be the bull, to dance for the Lady of the Labyrinth, instead. Snakes and bull. Snakes and bull. That is as much as can be put into words...
As we end that portion of the ritual, I feel invigorated. With a bottle of mead in one hand and a ball of red yarn in the other, we begin our walk to the labyrinth. The night is warm but not uncomfortable.
After walking a little over a mile, we are there. We spend some time looking at stars, pointing out constellations.
I walk first. I don't think of much particular, but I am calm and at peace. When I get to the center, I remember other labyrinths I have walked. How my shadow looked at sunrise the first time I walked a labyrinth, on my birthday, many years ago. The labyrinth I walked in Sedona when I made a life-altering decision. I feel the thread that ties me to those times, those selves. I face outward and notice how wide the night sky seems, and how in-the-middle-of-everything-
While my husband walks, I lay down on a bench and look at the stars. I lift up my ball of yarn and eclipse the moon. I pull out the string and imagine I'm connect it to various stars. As I bring my arms back together and let the yarn fall slack, it twists into the shape of a noose dangling towards my face. I smile.
On the walk back, my shoe breaks and I walk barefoot part of the way, but this doesn't bother me.
Exquisitely hungry and exhausted, once we get home we shower and feast before ceremoniously passing out.
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* This is a strange mix of systems, I realize, but it works for me. I vibrate the following god-names to correspond to the chakras: Root - Dionysos / Sacral - Aphrodite / Solar Plexus - Apollon / Heart - Ariadne / Throat - Hermes / Third Eye - Persephone / Crown - Dionysos
** Using the postures of ancient figures and statues as "keys" to specific types of trance or spirit journeying was researched by anthropologist Felicitas Goodman. Her theory was that these poses are not arbitrary, but are encoded information from that culture about how they interacted with the spirit world. Her research found that the posture being held for about 15 minutes while listening to drumming or rattling at 210 bpm (beats per minute) would allow for trance experiences specific to that posture -- some postures were found to be divinatory, healing, metamorphic, or conducive to traveling to the upper or lower world. A few were also found to be initiatory or simply celebratory in nature. The Minoan Snake Goddess posture was NOT one researched by Goodman or other authors of books teaching her methods (to my knowledge), but I believe from my own experience that it is an initiatory posture. I've been planning a more extensive blog post about my experiences with ecstatic trance postures, which I started experimenting with nearly 4 years ago.
* This is a strange mix of systems, I realize, but it works for me. I vibrate the following god-names to correspond to the chakras: Root - Dionysos / Sacral - Aphrodite / Solar Plexus - Apollon / Heart - Ariadne / Throat - Hermes / Third Eye - Persephone / Crown - Dionysos
** Using the postures of ancient figures and statues as "keys" to specific types of trance or spirit journeying was researched by anthropologist Felicitas Goodman. Her theory was that these poses are not arbitrary, but are encoded information from that culture about how they interacted with the spirit world. Her research found that the posture being held for about 15 minutes while listening to drumming or rattling at 210 bpm (beats per minute) would allow for trance experiences specific to that posture -- some postures were found to be divinatory, healing, metamorphic, or conducive to traveling to the upper or lower world. A few were also found to be initiatory or simply celebratory in nature. The Minoan Snake Goddess posture was NOT one researched by Goodman or other authors of books teaching her methods (to my knowledge), but I believe from my own experience that it is an initiatory posture. I've been planning a more extensive blog post about my experiences with ecstatic trance postures, which I started experimenting with nearly 4 years ago.
Im reading a piece by Goodman now, and an article written in her honor on the anniversary of her death. I can't wait read more, as it keeps cropping up around me right now. Your ritual sounds like it was lovely, and I'm glad to see that hubby is participating like you mentioned in the past.
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