Anthesteria 2019

Pithoigia
The Opening of the Wine Jars

This was my 2nd Anthesteria away from my home state and my first Anthesteria in a New England climate. I was blessed to be able to spend some time outdoors each day. Although the weather was not ideal, it was not downright prohibitive or hostile, even though there have been days since then that could be described that way.

I began my Pithoigia just before sunset, at a small riverside park near my home. There’s a lot of snow on the ground still, although the day was unusually warmer (highly 30’s into the 40’s). It would have been smarter to have snowshoes, but I managed fairly well without.

At the riverside, I said some opening prayers and sounded my bullhorn a few times. I opened the first bottle of wine and shared it in libation on the frozen earth. There are no flowers yet, not even a hint of a sprout. But there is the dream of spring, the promise of it in the less-freezing weather, and certainly the desire for it. And of course, Dionysos can be found in every place and time. 

I walked and chanted, and suddenly remembered I had spontaneously altered a chant to Dionysos a couple years back specifically for this day. I can’t recall how that one went, be this one settled into:

“Come with the wine pots,
Come with the flower petals,
Come with the restless dead,
Dionysos, come!

“Come Anthesterios,
Come to us Bakcheios,
Come to us Lusios,
Dionysos, come!”

I did some tree-pulling at the top of a small hill -- something I’ve experimented with here and there, having found it depicted in Minoan art. We can only speculate on what it meant to the Minoans, but I’ve found it to be a nice way to commune with the land and trees, especially while dancing outdoors, but also in more quiet meditative moments. “Tree-pulling” is a weird term yet oddly descriptive. I usually grasp a smaller tree by its trunk and let the rest of my body fall back and sway back and forth, usually switching hands on the upswing. It’s especially thrilling if you do it near a cliff’s edge or on a hill. Tree-pulling is not unlike swinging but without a rope, expressing a natural rhythm that thrums under the surface. The practice invites your consciousness into tree-time, to notice things like the wind or the way the bare branches fractal against the cloudy sky. Old and elemental are these mysteries of the Mountain Mother.

As I walked back, I whispered to the trees (modern maenad to the Nymphae): “Dionysos is here!”

In a stroke of good fortune, I had acquired about $50 worth of fresh flowers for free from my work at the last minute, and it made my shrines at home quite beautiful.








A part of me always hopes to create something lovely on Anthesteria (it’s when I’ve made some treasured devotional pieces in the past). It doesn’t happen every year, though, and I found myself just needing to unwind and let go this time, so I honored that inclination. I played around with watercolors a little but mostly I just spent the evening listening to music and drinking an amazing bottle of Amarone wine I’d been saving for over a year.

My feast foods were wonderful. One of the reasons I got a later start in the day was that I spent time making mostly-homemade baklava (I bought the phyllo dough.) I made it because I adore it, but it’s also a perfectly symbolic dessert for Anthesteria. Layers of dough and chopped nuts akin to layers of the soil and gravel and earth. Then soaked in honey and a bit of rosewater to symbolize the flowers. I also added chopped figs, for even more of a Dionysos association. It’s the first time I made it and it turned out wonderfully; I think I can make it even better next time now that I understand the process better.



Aiora & Khoes
The Swing & the Wine Pitcher

Traditionally, I spend Khoes in silence until my ritual in the evening, so that my words are reserved to exclaim the epiphany of Dionysos. But it has other benefits, too. It releases the pressure of much mundane interaction, and allows me to keep my mind on what’s holy. Throughout the day it’s as if I’m gradually disengaging with the “normal” world and by the time night rolls around I’ve already got a solid foot in the spirit realm. It’s not a bad way to honor the hanging girls for the Aiora either, which is what I spend the first half of the day doing.

I made paper cut outs of the hanging girls this year instead of the stick and yarn figures I’ve made in the past. I also learned to tie a noose-knot with the rough craft twine. I was very happy with how they turned out, and putting them on paper allowed me to write on them, so I wrote poems as well.

Remember Erigone
Beloved of Dionysos
Grief-struck
She swung on the tree
by her graceful throat
suspended like a ripe fruit
between
earth and starry heaven

Remember Ariadne
Beloved wife of Dionysos
Keeper of holy mysteries
She surrendered her mortal body
to her immortal daemon
on the isle of Naxos
So she might wear a crown of stars

Remember Arachne
Beloved of Dionysos
Weaver who knew her worth
She pays penance web by web
The Spider Queen
of primal wisdom.

I went to a park I hadn’t been to before, nestled in a quiet neighborhood. It wasn’t exactly private but probably due to the chilly weather, I had the place to myself and no one bothered me. I poured out wine, listened to music I associate with the hanging girls while swinging between setting sun and rising moon. How is it that this always strikes me anew, every year... This feeling of being in the axis of a lunar/solar seesaw?

I took breaks to hang the girls, one by one, and place a daffodil in the snow at the base of their trees. A bit of sympathetic flower magic, if you will. Some red wine in the snow like spilled blood. I stayed until the bare trees took on that eerie quality of negative space, and the stars started peeking out through the spidery branches. By that time the moon seemed impossibly bright and I was fascinated by the way the moonlight was casting tree shadows on the snow -- not something I had experienced before.

















I prayed to the land spirits for a time, and then returned home to prepare myself for my Khoes ritual.

And what can I say of that, that could possibly do it justice? I am reminded that there is always more levels to ekstasis, and there is always more to surrender. There is the god of many masks, and then there is the god triumphant and manifest - without metaphor - who simply is and is right fucking here.

Alethia meets soma.

I am filled with awe.








Khutroi
The Pots

On my way to the graveyard, I couldn’t help but notice how the light seemed different. It seemed to glow a little brighter, as if I was seeing reality through a different filter.

The cemetery was a large and beautiful lakeside one. New England cemeteries are something else. Older, of course, and more atmospheric, with a lot of unique memorials. Unfortunately there was so much snow I couldn’t wander as freely amongst the tombstones as I normally would have, and it was colder than the previous two days so I didn’t linger overlong. But I did say a prayer to Hermes, poured out wine and left flowers in various places - and of course left the beans and grain panspermia I had cooked for the dead.















In the evening I went to a wine tasting party I had been invited to by a coworker. (Believe it or not, I nearly declined the invitation because I was going to be too busy observing a Dionysian festival… before realizing how ridiculous that was.) It was great fun. It was a group of 8-10 people coming together for the primary purpose of sharing a love of wine for a couple hours. And for me, there’s nothing quite like the giddy buzz you get from tasting a variety of wines. The most unusual was a 10 year old sparkling rosé that smelled like a sweet port but tasted like a dry champagne with strong notes of wild mushrooms!

Back at home I wrapped things up by burning some banishing herbs and bidding the keres to depart. And that was my Anthesteria.

Festivals that have been celebrated over many years tend to invite you reflect on the past and how things have shifted and evolved in life in general. But I've also found that they set the tone for what's to come. That being said, I'm very much looking forward to seeing what the rest of the year has in store.

Khutroi

When I wake up, I dress in black and make some food for the dead…

I cooked up 8 different grains and beans that were in my pantry, and added some raw milk and raw honey.

I meditated for a bit, opened my last bottle of wine, and headed for the cemetery.  While driving there, my thoughts were going in circles, revisiting the night before, the past and the future, what I know and what I don’t know and all the sore spots in between, and I brought myself to tears several times before I even got there.  

I left my crown of creosote that I’d made the day before in the central tree of the cemetery, then made a wide circuit, pouring out wine and water as I went, murmuring soft greetings to the graves I passed.  A small detail struck me more than usual this trip -- the way that people buy joint gravestones or plaques and have their names on there but leave the year of their death blank in the meantime.  How strange this seems to me, these blank spots, just waiting for the person’s number to come up.  Practical, yes. Still, absurd.

The weather from Pithoigia to Khoes got suddenly warm (go figure!) and the weather today was also very nice -- as in, no jacket needed and I was quite comfortable in sandals.  I stumbled upon one rather curious bench that was not dedicated to any particular person, but simply to love.

After pouring out the porridge beneath a hedgerow, I burned and sprinkled tobacco, and burned incense.  I did another EVP session, as my husband and I had done on Khutroi two years ago.  I listened to it straightaway, but didn’t pick up anything.  I really have no idea if only those who haven’t crossed over yet can communicate in such a way. My husband and I would wonder about this, but besides him I’ve never met any pagan paranormal enthusiasts who could debate this topic with me. (I also wonder, can you theoretically capture EVPs of other spirits? Gods?)  If nothing else, the session got me talking out loud and into a receptive state.

I said a couple hymns to Hermes, left some coins at a hedge boundary.  I felt a sudden fondness for Hermes, perhaps because His trickster nature reminds me so much of my husband. (Which would come up later, too.)

I continued my circuit of the cemetery after that, picked up debris and poured out more offerings.  The sunset was very pretty and by that time I had the whole place to myself.  But it hit me as I looked around from the center of the cemetery to the hundred and hundreds of graves spreading around me, most with their own bunches of imitation flowers… No, I didn’t have the place to myself.

On my way home I stopped at my dad’s band rehearsal.  I had declined the invitation initially, because of Anthesteria, but suddenly I knew I needed the company and the experience.  I love that my dad is in a band.  Playing in a band is how he met my mom, back in the day.  Also, that’s where I get my excellent taste in music, in case you were wondering.  I had a really nice time, and felt much inspired to pick up my own musical pursuits again.  (Did I mention they did a Doors’ song too?  Yeah, they rocked.)

Back at home, I sat at my Anthesteria shrine again, and did one more thing… I listened to that EVP session from two years ago.

I had never listened to it before.

We had always meant to.  It just never happened.  And then he died, and I didn’t feel like I could. Hell, I wasn’t even sure I was going to make it up to and through Anthesteria… but if I did, I knew that this would probably be a good time to listen to it.  

And, it was okay.  No spirit voices, unless you count my husband’s coming back to me through the years.  It was nice to hear his voice. Not as painful as I expected, just nice.  He had said this spontaneous prayer to Hermes, and while I was listening to it, it just hit home… how devout and spiritual he was. And I don’t think many people saw that side of him, because of how intensely personal it was to him.  But we were lucky enough to share that with each other.  And listening to him, I thought, surely the gods and his guides would take care of this soul! This soul who loved them and just plain fucking LOVED so much.

I transcribed it, word for word, this part of the that session that turned into an impromptu praise of Hermes:

“Hermes Khthonios, I give praise and honor to you today.

Remember us.

Remember us remembering you, and our praise of you,

And our praise is Love.

I've recognized your work in my life,

I've been the receiver of your casual gifts.

You've changed the way I look at things.

I've always appreciated your luck,

I've always appreciated you gambling on me, and with me.

Anyone with a mind that is of the gambler's mind,

they know that they deal with ill fortune just as much as they do good fortune--

it comes with the territory.

Thank you for all the small things that have reminded me

that luck is a two sided coin

and pain doesn't last forever.

Praise be to Hermes!”
 

Well I got through the session without weeping, but not writing about it without weeping. Oh my beautiful poet.

And how strange to hear his voice say that death will come to all of us soon enough, as he talked to the dead.

Then this girl with the still-beating heart banished the Keres and hung up creosote branches in the doorways.  And now I’m going to go take a cleansing bath.

Just love, little flowers, just love.

Anthesteria 2012

Here is my account and pictures of this year's Anthesteria.  I realize this is over a month late, but I'm posting it anyway mostly for my own record of things. 

Day 1: Pithoigia.  Our Anthesteria altar was even more lovely this year than it was last year.

And we had a lot of wonderful wine (though not quite enough, she notes for next year). Among them were 3 Greek wines.  Hermes Naoussa Red Dry Wine 2006, Agiorgitiko Erasmios Red Dry Wine 2007, and Dionysos Merlot 2009.  The others were ones I thought looked good, including a shiraz (Misterio 2010) that had a mask on the label.
 

After doing a simple ceremony to begin our Anthesteria celebration, we took a walk along the river wash, bringing with us wine and water.  Although it had been getting warmer in the prior weeks, the weather turned suddenly cold this particular day, as if winter was having one last hurrah.  Of course, "cold" is subjective for us desert-rats. It means a beautiful day where we could wear an extra layer outside.

There is something about taking a walk with an intent or spiritual purpose in mind.  It sharpens your senses and makes everything just a little bit shinier.  Or is that the wine?  Nahhh...  But I was amazed at just how much our little edge of the desert had changed - bursting into bloom and color - seemingly overnight!  Logically, I know this was not the case, I had just not been there recently to witness it, but it still seemed that way.  It was the epitome of spring in our little corner of the world.  Here are some pictures:

I could smell the orange blossoms, which is one of my favorite scents synonymous with spring.  We explored a creosote "grove" nearby, and were startled with the size of some of them.  Some of them are big Grandmother creosote, reaching over 12 feet high.  (Creosote or chaparral is a favorite plant of ours.  The scent of the resin of its leaves is what, to a person who lives in the desert, smells exactly like a rainy day.  It blooms tiny yellow flowers in spring, and Native Americans used it for its detoxifying properties.  The branches are distinctively light colored, like moonlight, and the wood is extremely hardy.)  It was from one of the Grandmother creosote that my husband found a very large, partially fallen branch to make a stang.  We collected a lot of wildflowers as well.  And we were extremely surprised to stumble across (and recognize) a sacred datura plant, with it's big white trumpet flowers!

Later, we had a large feast and watched The Doors movie (my first time seeing it, believe it or not, but I loved it.) 

Day 2: Khoes.  We observed silence during the day.  My husband finished shaving the bark from his creosote stang, and I made a Dionysos mask that I'm very happy with.  The mask face is very feminine in structure, but I painted it dark green and glued ivy, grapes and moss to it... the whole effect seems powerful and androgynous.  We listened to music, drank wine, celebrated our own creativity and each other.

Next year I plan to do a few things differently particularly with Khoes.  Set aside time for solo ritual and devotion.  Ideally, use an entheogen other than or in addition to wine.  Also, let people know that I will be unavailable in advance.  A family member wanting to reach you by phone to tell you something when you're observing a day of silence is problematic, if unavoidable at times.  My suspicions on what this news was was confirmed the next day -- my grandmother who has had cancer had taken a turn for the worse.  (And at the time of me posting this, has since passed on.)  

Day 3: Khutroi.  I made a very simple panspermia from pearl barley, goats milk and local honey.  We left some out on our patio for the wandering spirits and took some with us to leave at the cemetery.  

At the cemetery, we brought a digital recorder and did an EVP session.  Which might sound silly to some, but with the associations of the day it seemed to us to be appropriate.  Why not give the spirits a chance to speak?  And even if they choose not to, then we have still given them our respectful attention and acknowledgement.  My husband also said an impromptu prayer to Hermes that was lovely, and I am glad we have that recorded as well.  (To date, we still haven't listened to the session, but we will.)  It was strange and sobering being at the cemetery knowing that I would be returning soon, in a matter of days, to bury a family member, even though I am not close to her.  

After the sun went down, we tracked down a park with swings.  This was one big thing we did differently this year, doing the swinging on Khutroi instead of Khoes.   (Can't say I have a preference yet.)  The swings we found were in terrible need of being oiled, and they screeched horribly when we tried to swing on them.  But we found that if we swung sideways or in circles, that we could avoid the worst of it.  That turned out to be more fun and appropriate-seeming anyhow, as we made large circles sometimes almost colliding with each other and sometimes making figure eights.  We often looked up at the stars as we swung and I told my husband the story of Erigone, and spoke aloud for the first time my intent to create a festival for Ariadne.  After we finished we walked the perimeter of the park and swung our yarn dolls up into the branches of a tree.

Later, at home, we banished the keres by smudging and sweeping.  I also replaced our old creosote sprigs that had been hung over the doors from last Anthesteria with new ones.

Khutroi - Anthesteria Day 3

It rained off and on, mostly while we were sleeping.  When we went to the cemetery everything was wet, and the clouds seemed close, ominous and beautiful.  While we were there, only a couple cars came and went but for the most part we were completely alone, which seemed odd for a Saturday. 

We walked around, looked at placques and grave markers, smiling and noting the different phrases and symbols people choose to memorialize each other.  We talked about families, death, trees, and the past...  The trees, particularly, I was drawn to.  They seemed like the guardians and sentinels of the dead.  There were several that are not as common here, including many lovely olive trees, and it made me realize that these trees had to have been deliberately placed for their associations, meaning and folklore, something which I hadn't considered before.  There were some pines here and there, and some rosemary and rose bushes around a marble tomb.  Many others we didn't recognize but wished we did.  I resolved to learn more about native plants and trees.

We poured out milk and honey offerings, and I left out some coffee cake under a hedgerow.  We read a beautiful modern translation of the Orphic hymn to Hermes.  We both noticed the strangeness of the birds, which only started singing when the sun went down.

Went and visited my family later since there were a couple birthdays to observe, but my mood was subdued and I didn't enjoy myself as much as I usually would.  My sister and brother in law wanted tarot readings, and I obliged, but felt "off". 

I felt a little better when I went home because I was able to take a bath and smudge and asperge the apartment.  I used creosote again -- put some in my bath, used a branch of it to sprinkle the saltwater, and hung sprigs at the doors.  Keres thus banished, I took down the temporary altar.  My usual Dionysos shrine is a bit transformed for having the mask on it though... a good reminder of Anthesteria.


Afterthoughts: 

This is a wonderful and complex festival, and I definitely see myself continuing to celebrate Anthesteria next year and in future years.  I can see how it would be a little different every year.  (And a big thank you to Sannion whose resources, writing and enthusiasm for the festival were all instrumental.)

Although I moved my observance of Anthesteria so that it centered on the full moon rather than the traditional days for practical reasons, this felt right to me... I like the full moon energy being mixed with the Aiora and the hieros gamos.  I may do it that way next time, too, depending on what is possible with my work schedule. 

I think about resolutions I've made in years past to try and observe all the Wiccan sabbats, where I'd fail every time, and I've realized that this is less a personal failing than simply because the sabbats themselves (Yule and Samhain aside) are not personal to me.  Which isn't to say you can't make them personal, but it was always something I had trouble with, especially with the desert seasons being different.  So this has been a good first step in me really creating festivals and seasonal observances that make sense to me.  Another goal for this year is to create a festival honoring the beginning of the monsoon season -- I am excited for this!

And lastly, not so much an afterthought, but an afterfeeling... a sense of amazement and awe for this God, who IS the God Who Comes, who can be so vividly and startling PRESENT.  Hail Dionysos!