New Icon, Suggested By A Lovely Follower Who Flatters Me By Saying It Looks Like Me. Same Dionysian Light.

New icon, suggested by a lovely follower who flatters me by saying it looks like me.  Same Dionysian Light.  =)

DARK DRUNKENNESS: THE TALE OF ERIGONE

The reason Khoes is sometimes referred to as the Day of Swings is a story that goes as follows:

When Dionysos first came to Athens to give wine to the people, He was taken in by a kind farmed called Ikarios. In some versions of the tale, Dionysos also fell in love with Ikarios’s daughter Erigone, and many parallels have been drawn between Erigone and Ariadne. In return for their hospitality, Dionysos taught Ikarios to make wine.

Ikarios held a big party, inviting all his friends and neighbors. He bought out the wine which Dionysos had taught him to make, and at first everyone loved the new drink. But when they began to get drunk and started to fall down, they became fearful and suspicious, and thought that Ikarios had poisoned them -- so they killed him and stuffed his body in a well. When Erigone found her father’s body, she was so grief-stricken that she hanged herself on a nearby tree.

As punishment, Dionysos cursed Athens and the surrounding land of Attica with barrenness, and struck down the daughters of the people with a madness that caused the young women to hang themselves -- just like Erigone, whose death their fathers had caused.

The Athenians sent word to the Temple of Delphi, asking the Oracle for help, to know which God they had wronged. The Pythia told the people of Attica that they needed to make amends for the death of Erigone and her father. Ikarios and Erigone were finally given a proper burial, and a festival, the Aiora, was instituted. The madness was lifted, and the land became fruitful again.

During the Aiora, the young girls of the city would hang ribbons, cups and dolls from trees and let the boys push them on a swing. It can be celebrated on either Khoes or Khutroi, either day works.

----- --- -- - The external tragedy of drunkenness.  This is a deep and subtle and complex tale, with many layers and moving parts.  It is the story of paranoia, fear and suspicion.  Of drunken rage and confused impulsive violence.  It tells of those who unfairly fear alcohol and inebriation, as well as those who fall under the darker influences of the same.  It is a story of a death, and of a suicide, and of the ripple effects that suicides can have in a community, like a curse.  And finally, it is the story of how proper reverence, the right attitudes of respect and release, can lift even the heaviest burdens, how merriment and light-heartedness and reverent inebriation can restore the balance and keep dark cycles at bay.

I think of this tale every time someone rails primly against drinking, calls it an evil, blames it for horrible evil things.  For it is not the drinking that creates or causes violence and brutality and dark behavior, any more than an unlocked door causes burglary, or a short skirt causes rape.  All drinking does is to open the doors to rooms in the self that have long been locked -- it brings to the surface and the light that which has lain sunken in the dark watery depths for so long.  In one who has no hidden unresolved monsters, drinking brigs out laughter, and love, and daring, and silliness, and relaxation.  The only ones who need fear the liberation of Dionysus are those who have chained their monsters without mastering them.

I think of Erigone's tragedy when a death or a suicide rends the peace of a community, its savage echoes tearing and ripping the fabric of so many lives outward in extending circles.  When people seem unable to escape the despair and confusion and pain caused by the tragedy and its echoes, and go on dully repeating them ritually, as if condemned.  Holding on.  Locked in to the dull pain of their loss, their fracture, their downward spiral.  No hope of redemption.

But Dionysos is the Liberator.  The savior.  The redeeming one.  He saved the helmsman from the pirates' fate, raised the shade of his manipulated mother out of Hades and made her a goddess in Olympia, rescued Ariadne from her isolation and misery on Naxos after Theseus had abandoned her.  Dionysos and all He represents, all He brings, can help and heal.  Passion, finding something to care about again.  Ecstasy, getting outside of the self, shedding the layers of self-perception that imprison you.  Devotion, believing in something, valuing something that is greater than your self.  Intoxication, relaxation, sensation, pleasure, opening up, taking chances, feeling alive, again.  Light-hearted playing like a child with others who are doing the same.  Sitting on a swing and swinging, hanging ribbons in the trees, as the scents of spring thaw in the fading shadow of winter.

He is life's liberating force. He is release of limbs and communion through dance. He is laughter, and music in flutes. He is repose from all cares -- he is sleep! When his blood bursts from the grape and flows across tables laid in his honor to fuse with our blood, he gently, gradually, wraps us in shadows of ivy-cool sleep.

— Euripedes, "The Bacchae"

I want to hear raucous music, to see faces, to brush against bodies. Beautiful women and handsome men arouse fierce desires in me. I want to dance, I want drugs, I want to know perverse people, to be intimate with them. I never look at naive faces. I want to bite into life, to be torn by it - I’m going to hell, to hell, to hell - wild, wild, wild.

Anaïs Nin  (via considerthishippie)

...um, why would Dionysos have a soldier's haircut?  And a soldier's helmet?  Everything else is fine, not especially Dionysian, but not unfitting.  But part of the root of the Dionysian archetype is a strong element of femininity, androgyny, and the one thing every description of his human appearance agrees on is: long hair.

And the martial overtones, the implications of aggression and war and combat and soldierliness, they are completely oppositional to everything Dionysos represents.  It's like saying that a picture of a femmy guy in a pink ruffled dress represents Ares.

"To each their own" only goes so far...

"I wear my hair long,  for the god." -- from "The Bacchae", by Euripides

A visual representation of Lord Dionysos in all of his power and glory. I am unworthy of being his maenad, yet he still collects me into madness.

There is a more profound meaning to the story of the daughter of Minos, who was raised up to immortality by her association with Dionysus. Ariadne is a mortal Aphrodite. It belongs to the nature of the Dionysiac that life and death, mortality and eternity are mixed up with one another in a miraculous way in those who are near to the god.

Dionysus: Myth and Cult, by Walter F. Otto, pg. 185 (via isluxury)

This still stuns me, every time, pierces me to the heart just like the first time I heard it... just so incredibly beautiful, and layered, and well made.

----- --- -- - PERSEPHONE: Hades, my husband, Hades, my light -- Hades, my darkness... If you had heard how he sang tonight, You'd pity poor Orpheus! All of his sorrow won't fit in his chest, It just burns like a fire in the pit of his chest. And his heart is a bird on a spit in his chest -- How long, how long, how long? HADES: How long? Just as long as Hades is King. Nothing comes of wishing on stars. And nothing comes of the songs people sing, However sorry they are. Give them a piece and they'll take it all; Show them the crack, and they'll tear down the wall. Lend them an ear and the Kingdom will fall -- The Kingdom will fall, for a song. PERSEPHONE: What does he care for the logic of kings? The laws of your underworld? It is only for love that he sings! He sings for the love of a girl... HADES: You and your pity don't fit in my bed -- You just burn like a fire in the pit of my bed. And I turn like a bird on a spit in my bed -- How long, how long, how long? PERSEPHONE: How long? Just as long as I am your wife. It's true the earth must die; But then the earth comes back to life, And the sun just goes on rising... HADES & PERSEPHONE: And how does the sun even fit in the sky? It just burns like a fire in the pit of the sky. And the earth is a bird on a spit in the sky. How long, how long, how long?