More esoteric questions have been on my mind, as I look towards Anthesteria

If dreams can be just as vivid as life, what does that say about death? 

Is experience more important than memory? 

While planning for Anthesteria I was looking back at my first observation of the festival in 2011, where I had mentioned being grateful for having written down what I could of my experience of Khoës. I had totally forgotten the existence of these notes, so I went looking for them and found them. I had not only forgotten the notes themselves, but forgotten the details of the experience as well. I suppose at the time I had it in my head as the experience being too intimate or revealing for a public blog. But what the hell. Life is short, hopefully shorter for me. Lately I've been feeling like a circuit with too much input and no output. So I'm going to try to put out more. (Ha.) 

Khoës Night 2011: 

Dionysos mask. [Intoxication.] I called the god as my lover and husband. I made love to him. Madness and consciousness became a perception of space and proximity. Time slowed to nothing. Sex and death and madness were intertwined. But even as I thought of describing it that way as it happened, I knew that was a pale, pale description for what I was feeling. To say I made love with my death comes close to the feeling but it isn't complete either. I wept, not out of sadness but out of epiphany. In that space there was not "good" or "bad", "happiness" or "sorrow", there was just the knowledge in the vehicle of sensation, caressing my body. The vastness! Being my Self and being with the God in the Vastness was Truer. As I thought of my life, of A------, of my home and work and family, they all seemed so bizarre in their specifics and limitations. Sunbathing in the music. Narcissus in the mirror. Eyes reflecting silver, seeing my own beauty and the stranger within. Dancing, dancing, in and out of space. Tarot cards on the bed. Shuffling chaotically to the music. Queen of Swords flips first... Temperance is there. A King. The Hanged Man, last.

Are the loud the many? Are the negative the most powerful?

I must admit I was very disappointed to hear that the Thessaly Temenos is cancelling the Hellenic Revival Gathering.  If you were unfamiliar with the event, it was going to be a Hellenic Pagan festival in November of 2014, the first of its kind as far as I know.  It was going to be 2 days of rituals and activities and classes.  I was going to do whatever it took to get there, regardless of my shyness, my trepidation about travelling alone, lack of money, or any other number of factors.  I wanted to look in the faces of others who are devoted to these gods, hear their voices, worship alongside them.  And I wanted to attend because it would be hard for me personally, for the reasons I mentioned, and because it's hard for me to be in this world at all right now. The gods and my spiritual practices are really the only reason I'm still here at all, and I thought this event would be a touchstone of sorts for me.  And because I trust that when you put yourself out there in such a way, it will end up being rewarding.

I think the Thessaly Temenos made the mistake of assuming that the loud bullies are the majority, and that the dissenters speak for everyone. I think they underestimate how many had no idea of their group's criticisms or politics (and didn't care) but supported their core mission. I'm not sure how "bowing out" equals taking a stand or showing support, but whatever. I'm compassionate about the fact that they felt driven to such a decision, and I'm not judging them as a group at all.  It is simply unfortunate.  

Are the loud the many? Are the negative the most powerful?  I guess it just depends if you let it be so.  That's a decision you make, and it will come up again and again.  Maybe you don't always have the energy for it, that's understandable.  But I hope a brave person or group takes a chance next time.

I do not love this community, or any community.  But I do and have loved individual people, and I love the gods.  That's where the real hope is.  And that is why I am optimystic, and will always be so.

Back to your regularly scheduled devotions and shenanigans.

Lenaia 2014

So I had been chatting with a friend the day before the Lenaia, and mentioned working on some last minute preparations. She said something to the effect of being glad that it was work I was up to doing. It hadn't occurred to me in this context (as being optional) and I said so.  I was running a fever every day of the Anthesteria last year and I was still drinking, gathering flowers outside, trying to do devotional craft work, ritualizing, feasting, drinking more.  She said that was remarkable, but I told her, simply, that I love my god.  And like when you are in love with someone, it's never "enough" at any point, it's an ongoing process of expression and becoming. 

I've had friends and family commend me for doing things, in spite of my grief -- for attending concerts, going dancing, seeing plays, traveling, celebrating festivals -- and it's been a really difficult thing to verbalize a response to.  My emotional response might translate to a strangled yell of "how can I not??"  It's not easy, granted, but everything I love demands it. Dionysos demands it. My love for my husband demands it. But not in a demanding way, it's just... these are the things that hold me to this world, that create moments that make life worth it, that put me in touch with who I am and remind me of all that I love and have loved.  I have come across more than one unique complication of being a grieving Dionysian; that's one of them.  There is no luxury of disengagement.  

Onto the festival itself...  I love to see plays on the Lenaia; it seems particularly appropriate to this festival.  Although I didn't begin ritually until Monday, I went Sunday night to my favorite local theater, and it was a nice way to ease into the festival.  The play was "Take Me Out" performed by Nearly Naked Theatre.  I'm quite glad I saw it in spite of it being about baseball (I have no interest in sports whatsoever), but it was appropriate in other ways, with its themes of queerness and identity, not to mention a lot of male nudity. I didn't expect the actual showers of water to come falling from above the stage onto the actors during the shower scene -- pretty cool for such a small production!

In the interest of recording my success AND failures, I'll share that Sunday night I tried to get some confirmation via divination on how to proceed with the festival. I had certain activities and ideas in mind, but timing-wise, I wasn't sure about the order.  I tried a couple different decks, re-framed the questions a couple ways, but was unable to get any remotely clear answers. I even threw the dice a couple times to try and get something clearer... nope.  I'm decent at giving readings for friends, but I've never been particularly good at divining on my own behalf. I was still disappointed, as I had hoped a clear purpose and question would have yielded some hints.  I could think of 3 reasons that it didn't. 1) I suck. (Lack of skill or fumbled the session somehow.) 2) The god did not have a preference. 3)  The god wanted me to use my intuition instead.  Whatever the reason, I just went with my intuition and hoped for the best, which in the end seemed fine.

I ought to mention, too, that a few months ago I acquired a new phallos for Dionysos' shrine and ritual use.  The old one was clay, but I had been wanting to find a wood one for some time.  (I also want to hand-carve one of fig wood, but that will be a project for when I encounter a generous and suitable fig tree.)  This one I found on Etsy and knew it was perfect...  It is absolutely stunning. It's made from rowan wood found by the sea.  I have been anointing it and preparing it since before but especially during the Rural Dionysia.

Day 1:  

I felt drawn to honor Semele and the nymphs with more emphasis this year.  A major aspect of the Lenaia, for me, is about the love, reciprocity and mystery in the relationships that Dionysos has with women.  So the very first thing I did after setting up the festival altar was give an offering to Semele (benzoin incense), read her a hymn, and ask for her presence.  Then I made a mindful procession to a park a mile away, listening to Daemonia Nymphe the whole time, which definitely put me in an other-ish mindset.  For whatever reason I went to the park to the east instead of the west, which was a longer walk but had me walking towards the moon. When I got to the park I meditated for a bit, poured out milk and honey and burned incense for the nymphs, and read them a hymn.  The sun was setting while I was there.  Perhaps this liminal time added to the strange otherness I was feeling. In spite of the natural setting I had a hard time grounding myself.

Back at home, I prepared for the main ritual and bathed.  I rubbed myself with flying ointment, had some lotus tincture (which subtly intensifies and compliments the effects of wine). The ritual outline itself was very similar to last year's, but the tone was different this year. The raising of energy over the Liknon was more pronounced, more sensual. After the water and wine flowed, I stared longer into the mask... into the space beyond the mask, into the god's presence and non-presence.  I remember speaking to the mask, although I don't remember everything I said.  The music (like last year, on shuffle) was more bizarre, maybe less light-hearted, still meaningful -- it went hand in hand with the sort of emotional roller-coaster I went through staring into that mask.  There was an important message there that I experienced, although I'm not sure how much I can verbalize it.  (A poem, yes, a poem is needed.)  I danced.  I wept heart-wrenchingly one moment, smiled the next.  I danced more.  Later I jotted down, "absyrdity, absurdity, absurdity, life, life, life".

I feasted afterwards, in a daze of drunkenness and post-ritual giddiness, on a variety of locally made and grown foods.  I wound down by watching a comedy routine by Bo Burnham that Sannion recommended on his blog -- I recommend it as well!

Day 2:

The same club that I was lamenting had closed last Lenaia recently re-opened under new management and tentatively reinstated a similar, goth-friendly-themed night with my favorite local DJ.  So a night of devotional dancing was the main order of the evening.  I set my intention that it was all for Him, to stir and arouse Him.  The night was a blur, my body translating music to movement without thought.  If there were dance-floor epiphanies, I don't remember them.  I do remember a moment of gratitude in my abilities, in the time I had taken over the years to hone, through observation and practice, a style of dance that has become very ecstatic, that now flows very easily.  (She can't divine worth a quince, but she can dance at least!)

I almost feel sorry for the people who try to engage me in conversation when I take a breather. No, I'm not new to the scene.  No, I shall not remember your names or faces. I come not for the people. I come for the Dance. 

Day 3:

Where I live now, I don't have a natural, semi-wild place in walking distance like I used to.  (Oh river wash, I miss you.)  But I do live only about 10 miles away from the westernmost mountains in the valley, which are the White Tanks.  These are the mountains I can see from my bedroom window. 

It proved not very busy on a weekday, and it was not difficult to find a little-used trail and then a place not too far off the trail where I could sit in privacy.  I was surprised at how green things are getting already.  There is the barest carpet of grass that has started to come up on the desert floor, perhaps because we actually had several days of decent rain last month.  The only plants starting to bud any flowers were the jojoba bushes.  Otherwise, no hint yet of the riot of wildflowers we'll get in another month or two.

I nestled myself between a palo verde tree and a cozy mesquite tree with a lattice of branches arching to the ground.  I prepared for some impromptu ritual and more offerings.  My main intention was a challenge that had come to me suddenly, at some point during the festival -- to bring out the liknon basket and phallos from the indoor shrine to the outdoors, in view of the mountains, and to sing to it.  This was a challenge for me for several reasons.  I don't sing, and with the exception of dancing I'm not particularly off-the-cuff spontaneous.  But I did and I was, and if I remember the song I wouldn't tell because some things are best left to mystery.  Here are some pics I took afterwards walking back up the trail.

I am still, a week later, feeling a bit raw, still letting everything sink in.  I suspect the feeling will last through Anthesteria.  

My heart hurts. 

And yet.

The god I love still loves me.

I am full of doubts, because I am human. Yet in the midst of those moments when Dionysos comes there is no room for doubt. 

Here are some songs:  

The lyrics of this first one, especially, really got to me.

The Lenaia begins...

Last night I dreamt that I was walking through the jungle of weeds in my backyard at night when I suddenly sank waste deep into the wet ground. I tried to call to my mom, but could not.  I felt a bit absurd, as I couldn't move an inch.  I felt a vague sense of panic start to well up.  Suddenly the ground gave a tremor, I sank a few more inches, and then a few more feet as a chasm started to form.  On the other side of it, was my electric organ and piano.  For a second, I feared that they would fall in and be broken. Then I realized if they did, they would probably fall on me.  Then the earth gaped even wider and I realized I was certainly about to die. Is this not what I wanted?  The musical instruments fell in and we all started to fall.  With a mixture of fear and anticipation, I surrendered.

More to come...

One reason that Dionysos is the god of wine...

As one of the primary processes by which nature breaks down living things so that their energies and atoms might be reused by other living things, fermentation puts us in touch with the ever-present tug, in life, of death.

           - Michael Pollan (Cooked: A Natural History of Transformation)

Old journal fragment

What is it to have a Dionysian experience?  One could argue that any experience is Dionysian.  What I mean by that is allowing yourself to be completely immersed in the *experience* of the experience, regardless of what that experience is.  It could be dancing, acting, singing, celebrating, breathing, looking at the stars, making love, walking or running, standing in the rain, or having that moment of perfect drunkenness where you just ARE...whatever, it doesn't matter.  What matters is that the experience is ALL, and the mind falls away -- to be "out of your mind", by engaging every sense you have into it completely.  In that sublime moment of experience, your soul touches eternity and the God Himself.  At the same time, you come home to your Self, as the masks fall away.

Love your fate

"At a certain moment in Nietzsche's life, the idea came to him of what he called 'the love of your fate.' Whatever your fate is, whatever the heck happens, you say, "This is what I need." It may look like a wreck, but go at it as though it were an opportunity, a challenge.

If you bring love to that moment - not discouragement - you will find the strength is there. Any disaster that you can survive is an improvement in your character, your stature, and your life. What a privilege! This is when the spontaneity of your own nature will have a chance to flow. Then, when looking back at your life, you will see that the moments which seemed to be great failures followed by wreckage were the incidents that shaped the life you have now. You'll see that this is really true.

Nothing can happen to you that is not positive. Even though it looks and feels at the moment like a negative crisis, it is not."  -- Joseph Campbell



I've thought of this quote often in the last couple months, in different contexts.  Most recently, it's the possessive quality in the phrase, "the love of your fate".  As in, this fate is mine. It is something that belongs to me, and was even chosen by me before I was born to this life.  (That is my personal belief, at least.)

I can lament, I can rage, I can weep and pound my fists... And the pain of having been separated from my beloved certainly warrants all of this and more. Sometimes the sheer terrible reality of it hits me out of nowhere. That I can never again look in his eyes or hear his laugh or feel his touch. That his body is now ashes.  And just as terrible, sometimes, is the deep knowing that I will never experience such happiness as I did in those few years we were together.  That just as everyone else gets to live in a state of hopeful anticipation of their future, that mine could never live up to my past.

But on the other hand... I was blessed to be embodied with him in this life, to have known that joy and happiness, to have truly experienced unconditional love.  Should I be considered less fortunate, for having known such blessings in my past versus having the amorphous possibility of something like it in my future?  When not one of us is guaranteed anything in life, except for death?  Would I wish to trade places with anyone I know?  The answer to the last is a definite no, and even that small realization is empowering. Taken as a whole -- my fate, my life, the entirety of my relationship with my beloved -- they are mine to cherish, even when it sometimes feels like my heart is breaking.

And my beloved's fate is his own as well, and I can not try to rob him of its significance -- I can't belittle it as simple tragedy or happenstance -- not on a spiritual level, anyway.  His death was his, and the manner and timing of it all significant to his soul and his path.  Even if one does not believe that such things are planned, per se, it is still certainly sacred and even beautiful.  When someone you love transforms, literally transitions from one form to another, can you do other than continue to love them in their new form, and honor the transition?

Part of our wedding vows:

Him: "I pledge myself to you, and I will love you even beyond death."
Me: "I pledge myself to you, and I will embrace our fate and all that it brings."

So perhaps we even knew, on some level.  Regardless... here I am, my love. Embracing our fate.  And I know you are loving me still.