Lenaia

 

Last week was the Lenaia, and it took up nearly all of my days off, right up until another long work week.  Therefore I'm a little late writing about it!

Our Lenaia was rainy, almost the whole four days of it, unbelievably!  So that remains an important part of my memory of it.  The unexpected wetness of the desert.  The way that everything was more vivid, from the clean air to the way everything shines when wet.  On the last day of the Lenaia, it struck me how water itself is an important element of the festival.  It is the rain or snow that will allow the flowers to bloom on Anthesteria.  It is the nourishing element of the god, it is the water that we mix with the wine.  I don't usually temper my wine with water, but I always will on the Lenaia, because it seems right.
 

On the first day, my husband and I had a feast of local foods, and mostly just enjoyed food, wine and each other's company.  On the second, we went to see the play Equus put on by a small but talented theatre company.  I had seen other plays by this company before, so I knew that they were good and their performances were intimate and challenging.  But I hadn't seen Equus and was unfamiliar with anything except the most basic premise.  It turned out to be incredibly appropriate in its themes for a Dionysian festival (including questioning of what is normal, what is crazy, and the need for ecstatic states of consciousness.)  The horses were played by people in provocative bondage outfits with shaped-wire horse masks.  The narrator is a self-described pagan at heart and even mentioned Dionysos' name in the play.  It was intense and I absolutely loved it.  Did I mention we got to drink wine while watching the play too?  It was lovely.

 

I should mention that on the way to the play and home again, the ipod was on shuffle and was particularly synchronous.  Like, wow. 

 

We went home and I made all my preparations for my planned solitary ritual.  This ritual was significant for me for a few reasons, besides being my first serious observance of the Lenaia.  (Though I've done something simple the last two years, I'm only now getting a grasp on it.)  Since devoting myself to Dionysos, I had ended up rejecting a lot of the set ritual that I was used to, meaning the Wicca-influenced structure of circle casting, quarter calling, invoking, etc.  Not because I think it's wrong, but it ceased to speak to me, and it was more challenging, more Dionysian, to do things without structure, as spontaneously as possible.  However, I think ritual is important, and that ritual structure and symbolism speaks to our deeper self, and is often needed for important works and for communing with the gods. So I was trying to find a balance with these ideas, something that's structured but not too much, a ritual that is both Dionysian and speaks to me.  (Naturally, it's a work in progress and probably always will be.)  

Also, if you're not familiar with the Lenaia festival, read this excellent article by Sannion.  My comments illustrate some of my thoughts as I've researched the festival.  I also took inspiration from a dream I had on the Lenaia last year.

This is what I did...

 

I set up my wooden mask of Dionysos on a tall altar that was draped in cloth and decorated with ivy.  On the altar was also the libation cup, a bowl for wine and a bowl for water.  On the lower platform beneath it was a clay phallos in a basket, covered with a veil.  

I took a bath in candlelight, then entered my ritual space.  I blessed some spring water with breath and salt, and use a sprig of rosemary to asperge the space.  I lit all the candles around the room.  I let the incense fill the room.  I anointed myself with a perfume oil that reminds me of the god.

"With sacred waters, I cleanse this space for the god who comes."
"With sacred flame, I light this space for the god who comes."
"With sacred smoke, I prepare this space for the god who comes."
"With sacred oil, I anoint myself for the god who comes."

I take up my thyrsus, feel it's power, remember the times I've danced with it.  I call to mind a dream of mine, of a sacred garden with high walls covered in ivy.  I let this image meld with the room I'm in.  I call the ivy up as a protective barrier.
I ask the spirit of the Bull to be present, to guard the exterior.  I call the spirit of the Panther, intending to ask the same but instead I find myself inviting Panther in with me, to protect the interior.  Panther has been a companion in my dreams even before I began worshipping Dionysos.  It feels right.

I vibrate my chakras twice.  Once with my usual method with the Greek god names, and again with epithets of Dionysos.  Energy becomes more palpable now, and I direct all my movement, my energy and attention to the Mask.
I praise Zeus and Semele.  I praise the nymphs, and read them a hymn.

I speak to the Mask.  Some words of my own, then some borrowed...

 "Dionysos! The Mask embodies Your power more than that of any other God! No mortal dons Your mask, for Your power resides in the empty mask. Your eyes transfix us, steadier than any human gaze. We reply to Your face in the inmost depths of our souls. You confront us in Your paradox. Child of a God and a mortal, born of Heaven and Earth, uniter of opposites. Lord of Moist Nature, Born of Fire. You are the Primordial Force of Life, madly creating and destroying as You will! For Indestructible Life implies both birth and death. Your mask dramatically unifies illusion and reality. No body, nothing behind the surface: pure persona. Ephemeral shell. Absent, yet present. Appearing and disappearing. At once you are and are not...

 

"One part of you eternal, while the other part slumbers. Dionysos Masked and Dionysos Liknites. Behold the mask.  Behold the Liknon."

I take the Liknon.  I cradle it in silence, rocking it occasionally.  After a few moments, I whisper, "Now wake, my God! Hear my voice... know my devotion..."

I take up my gourd rattle, find a rhythm and chant over the Liknon... "Awaken, Son of Semele! Iakkhos, Iakkhos!"  Over and over.  My voice sometimes audible and sometimes inaudible.  There is no sense of energy being raised, as I intended.  Just the syllables and the rattle, again and again.  I persist.  And then the moment comes, unexpectedly in a sudden wave.  I unveil the Liknon.

"As promised, the god awakens! Hail Dionysos!  Hail Iakkhos!"

The wine is poured into the offering bowl... "The blood of the dismembered god, the sacrifice of the vine!"

The water is poured into the offering bowl... "The sweat and tears of the Lenai, the nymphs and the nursemaids."
I ladle out a cup, holding in up in a wordless moment, then drink.  And drink more.


At this point, I had intended to dance devotionally to a playlist of music.  But I hadn't had any time to create one.  Up until now, I didn't know if I was going to let it go random, or pick song by song.  I think back to earlier in the evening, when the music had been so synchronous, and I'm encouraged.  But anything could come up on that ipod... there's some weird stuff in those 3000+ tracks that would be off-putting, would definitely not be right, would not even be something I could dance to.  And IF I set it to random I would be committing myself to those songs, to the belief that they would be intended.  I couldn't change it after that, I would have to have faith and just go with it.  And with that thought, I know that's what I have to do.  

I asked Dionysos to choose, and I hit shuffle. 

Which is how I ended up dancing to "While My Guitar Gently Weeps."  And then "Decatur" by Sufjan Stevens.  And as the rest of the songs came up, I started realizing the way they all fit together, in mood and rhythm and flow.  These were not any gothic or rock songs.  These songs had a lighter touch, they were somewhat melancholy but with a touch of hope or whimsy, yet easy to dance to.  As I danced, I felt like the god was communicating not only an approval in my faith, in my willingness to relinquish control, but also communicating to me the mood of the festival itself.  And this was absolutely amazing to me.  I reciprocated this gift by dancing all my joy and love for Him.
These were the rest of the songs:

What's Wrong - Grizzly Bear
Kindness of Strangers - The American Analog Set
All My Days - Alexi Murdoch
Moonchild - M83
Deep Blue - Arcade Fire
I'm Not - Panda Bear
We Could Have Flown Like Pollen - ThouShaltNot

(One thing I jotted down post-ritual was "The god makes a better mix tape than I could."  Haha.)

The last two days were more mellow.  Friday was the day our pagan book discussion group meets.  The fact that we were celebrating Lenaia that weekend and that we would be absent next month due to the Anthesteria led me to trying to explain these festivals and what we do.  They seemed both surprised that I don't celebrate the sabbats anymore (with the exception of winter solstice, really) and interested in what we do and how enthusiastic we are.  I'm slowly becoming more open to family and acquaintances about the festivals we celebrate and that I worship Dionysos.  It's surprising how hard it can be to explain when I feel like I'm still figuring it out myself, but I've realized that that's okay.

On the last day of Lenaia, we had planned to go dancing at our favorite goth club, the place that has hosted some of my most significant moments of trance-dancing with Dionysos.  I was very sad to discover earlier in the day that the club has closed, presumably for good.  We looked for other options, but found no suitable ones. My husband passed out early, so I took a bottle of pinot noir for a night-time walk.  

The night was cloudy yet the full moon still peaked through now and then. I didn't even need a jacket, with the humidity.  I walked along the river wash, which is usually dry but was now wet, and visited the places that I knew we would return to on Anthesteria, imagining how they would be transforming in just a matter of weeks.  I looked into dark puddles of water and poured wine into them.  A coyote soundlessly crossed my path and I mentally acknowledged him and continued on.  No toads out, despite the rain... might be too early for them yet.  The raindrops glittered on the creosote branches.

 

Mostly I just listed to music and let everything sink in.  I thought about the water, as I mentioned before.  And I thought of how Lenaia is about awakening, and Anthesteria is about emerging.

I was tipsy when I got home, and I threw on a movie -- V for Vendetta.  It occurred to me partway in that I had picked a movie about a man in a mask without even thinking about it.  Figures!

It was a great festival this year, and I look forward to seeing how it evolves for me.  I feel Anthesteria approaching, too.  It's like a buzzing of energy, a sense of anticipation.   What has been awakened is stirring. 

The Festival of Ariadne

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-mundane this particular labyrinth is.  By a city street, between office buildings and a church.  And yet wherever a labyrinth is, it creates a feeling of center.  It reminds us that the center is not exclusively on a sacred mountaintop somewhere, but it is wherever we are when we become aware of our place in the universe.

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.