Diodoros Sikeliotes, Library of History 3.71.4-6
The struggle having proved sharp and many having fallen on both sides, Kronos finally was wounded and victory lay with Dionysos, who had distinguished himself in the battle. Thereupon the Titans fled to the regions which had once been possessed by Ammon, and Dionysos gathered up a multitude of captives and returned to Nysa. Here, drawing up his force in arms about the prisoners, he brought a formal accusation against the Titans and gave them every reason to suspect that he was going to execute the captives. But when he got them free from the charges and allowed them to make their choice either to join him in his campaign or to go scot free, they all chose to join him, and because their lives had been spared contrary to their expectation they venerated him like a god. Dionysos, then, taking the captives singly and giving them a libation of wine, required of all of them an oath that they would join in the campaign without treachery and fight manfully until death.

Diodoros Sikeliotes, Library of History 3.72.2-6
Dionysos, then, set out with his army, and after passing through a great extent of waterless land, no small portion of which was desert and infested with wild beasts, he encamped beside a city of Libya named Zabirna. Near this city an earth-born monster called Campê, which was destroying many of the natives, was slain by him, whereby he won great fame among the natives for valour. Over the monster which he had killed he also erected an enormous mound, wishing to leave behind him an immortal memorial of his personal bravery, and this mound remained until comparatively recent times. Then Dionysos advanced against the Titans, maintaining strict discipline on his journeyings, treating all the inhabitants kindly, and, in a word, making it clear that his campaign was for the purpose of punishing the impious and of conferring benefits upon the entire human race. The Libyans, admiring his strict discipline and high-mindedness, provided his followers with supplies in abundance and joined in the campaign with the greatest eagerness.

As the army approached the city of the Ammonians, Kronos, who had been defeated in a pitched battle before the walls, set fire to the city in the night, intending to destroy utterly the ancestral palace of Dionysos, and himself taking with him his wife Rheia and some of his friends who had aided him in the struggle, he stole unobserved out of the city. Dionysos, however, showed no such a temper as this; for though he took both Kronos and Rheia captive, not only did he waive the charges against them because of his kinship to them, but he entreated them for the future to maintain both the good-will and the position of parents towards him and to live in a common home with him, held in honour above all others. Rhea, accordingly, loved him like a son for all the rest of her life.

Diodoros Sikeliotes, Library of History 3.64.6-65.1-6
There the boy was reared by nymphs and was given the name Dionysos after his father and after the place; and since he grew to be of unusual beauty he at first spent his time at dances and with bands of women and in every kind of luxury and amusement, and after that, forming the women into an army and arming them with thyrsi, he made a campaign over all the inhabited world. He also instructed all men who were pious and cultivated a life of justice in the knowledge of his rites and initiated them into his mysteries, and, furthermore, in every place he held great festive assemblages and celebrated musical contests; and, in a word, he composed the quarrels between the nations and cities and created concord and deep peace where there had existed civil strifes and wars.

Now since the presence of the god, the myth goes on to say, became noised abroad in every region, and the report spread that he was treating all men honourably and contributing greatly to the refinement of man’s social life, the whole populace everywhere thronged to meet him and welcomed him with great joy. There were a few, however, who, out of disdain and impiety, looked down upon him and kept saying that he was leading the Bacchantes about with him because of his incontinence and was introducing the rites and the mysteries that he might thereby seduce the wives of other men, but such persons were punished by him right speedily. For in some cases he made use of the superior power which attended his divine nature and punished the impious, either striking them with madness or causing them while still living to be torn limb from limb by the hands of the women; in other cases he destroyed such as opposed him by a military device which took them by surprise. For he distributed to the women, instead of the thyrsi, lances whose tips of iron were covered with ivy leaves; consequently, when the kings in their ignorance and for this reason were unprepared, he attacked them when they did not expect it and slew them with the spears. Among those who were punished by him, the most renowned, they say, were Pentheus among the Greeks, Myrrhanos the king of the Indians, and Lykourgos among the Thracians.

For the myth relates that when Dionysos was on the point of leading his force over from Asia into Europe, he concluded a treaty of friendship with Lykourgos, who was king of that part of Thrace which lies upon the Hellespont. Now when he had led the first of the Bacchantes over into a friendly land, as he thought, Lykourgos issued orders to his soldiers to fall upon them by night and to slay both Dionysos and all the Maenads, and Dionysos, learning of the plot from a man of the country who was called Charops, was struck with dismay, because his army was on the other side of the Hellespont and only a mere handful of his friends had crossed over with him. Consequently he sailed across secretly to his army, and then Lykourgos, they say, falling upon the Maenads in the city known as Nysion, slew them all, but Dionysos, bringing his forces over, conquered the Thracians in a battle, and taking Lykourgos alive put out his eyes and inflicted upon him every kind of outrage, and then crucified him.

Thereupon, out of gratitude to Charops for the aid the man had rendered him, Dionysos made over to him the kingdom of the Thracians and instructed him in the secret rites connected with the initiations; and Oiagros, the son of Charops, then took over both the kingdom and the initiatory rites which were handed down in the mysteries, the rites which afterwards Orpheus, the son of Oiagros, who was the superior of all men in natural gifts and education, learned from his father; Orpheus also made many changes in the practices and for that reason the rites which had been established by Dionysos were also called ‘Orphic.’

Wayland Skallagrimsson lays it all out:

We need standards, people. I respect that everyone has the right to their own beliefs and opinions. I believe that even beliefs and practices that I personally find ridiculous can contain genuine worth and even insight. These things do not, however, mean that all beliefs and practices are themselves worthy of my respect. I have a right to my own beliefs and opinions too, including the opinion that this or that idea is really freaking stupid. People have the right to believe any damnfool thing they want to, but that doesn’t mean I have to pretend it isn’t a damnfool thing to believe.

[...]

We need to have standards when it comes to spiritual experiences in this religion. If we don’t then the traditional ways of personal and spiritual development will be hijacked by people who are deluding themselves, lying, or even essentially LARPING. There is a lot of value in the old ways, the spiritual approach to life. Anyone can benefit from it, anyone can take up the spiritual path. However, not everyone will succeed. Worth proves itself. Heathens believe that deeds are more important than words. Those who genuinely have something of worth to add to our spiritual lore will prove it. Those who will not are not worth listening to.

Anthesteria has gotten off to a great start here in Beacon, as you can see from this photo:

Galina and I braved the frigid cold and snow piled two feet high to visit each of our city’s five cemeteries (the oldest and most potent is a pre-Civil War era African American graveyard) where we poured wine for the dead and invited them to join us in our nocturnal revels. Once we completed the circuit we stopped off for a fine Greek meal (dumping all of our empties in the recycling out back, natch) and now we’ve settled in for a night of drinking in front of Dionysos’ flower-bedecked shrine.

A friend got me an engraved zippo lighter which I’ll be using for all of my ritual fire needs henceforth. On one side it reads DIONYSUS GOD OF FERTILITY and on the other side it has my name and a butcher-knife representing my role as a sacrificial priest. What a perfect Anthesteria gift!

Tomorrow’s the big day and I have a hunch it’s going to hit me hard – as it should.

Io Evohe! Io io Dionysos!

The blog of an amazing Dionysian Cave of Oracle. From his bio:

A former ordained Christian minister, Oracle has devoted his life as a quest in studying the Western Mysteries, which he believes are the foundation for modern Paganism.

Oracle is currently Hierophant for the Ophic Strix Tradition, a Hellenic Witchcraft Mystery Tradition. The Temple is located in southern Brevard County, FL and serves the local Pagan Community. He is also active and involved with other esoteric groups and Traditions.

Writer, thealogian, philosopher, and full-time trickster, Oracle can often be found engaging in research or revelry…mostly both.

He lives in Palm Bay, FL with his sister, a menagerie of animals, and enjoys spending quality time with his husband.

Sounds interesting, huh? His writing is even better.

Porphyry, On the Cave of the Nymphs 6
Let the stony bowls, then, and the amphorae be symbols of the aquatic nymphs. For these are, indeed, the symbols of Dionysos, but their composition is fictile, i.e., consists of baked earth, and these are friendly to the vine, the gift of god; since the fruit of the vine is brought to a proper maturity by the celestial fire of the sun. But the stony bowls and amphorae are in the most eminent degree adapted to the nymphs who preside over the water that flows from rocks. And to souls that descend into generation and are occupied in corporeal energies, what symbol can be more appropriate than those instruments pertaining to weaving? Hence, also, the poet ventures to say, “that on these, the nymphs weave purple webs, admirable to the view.” For the formation of the flesh is on and about the bones, which in the bodies of animals resemble stones. Hence these instruments of weaving consist of stone, and not of any other matter. But the purple webs will evidently be the flesh which is woven from the blood. For purple woollen garments are tinged from blood and wool is dyed from animal juice. The generation of flesh, also, is through and from blood. Add, too, that the body is a garment with which the soul is invested, a thing wonderful to the sight, whether this refers to the composition of the soul, or contributes to the colligation of the soul (to the whole of a visible essence). Thus, also, Persephone, who is the inspective guardian of everything produced from seed, is represented by Orpheus as weaving a web and the heavens are called by the ancients a veil, in consequence of being, as it were, the vestment of the celestial gods.

Hermias, Commentary on the Phaedrus of Plato
Nymphs are goddesses who preside over regeneration, and are ministrant to Dionysos, the offspring of Semele. Hence they dwell near water, that is, they are conversant with generation. But Dionysos supplies the regeneration of the whole sensible world.

Proclus, Commentary on Plato’s Timaeus
Orpheus says that the vivific cause of partible natures (i.e. Persephone), while she remained on high, weaving the order of celestials, was a nymph, as being undefiled; and in consequence of this connected with Zeus and abiding in her appropriate manners; but that, proceeding from her proper habitation, she left her webs unfinished, was ravished; having been ravished, was married; and that being married, she generated in order that she might animate things which have an adventitious life. For the unfinished state of her web indicates, I think, that the universe is imperfect or unfinished, as far as to perpetual animals (i.e., the universe would be imperfect if nothing inferior to the celestial gods was produced). Hence Plato says the single creator calls on the many creators to weave together the mortal and immortal natures; after a manner reminding us, that the addition of the mortal genera is the perfection of the textorial life of the universe, and also exciting our recollection of the divine Orphic fable, and affording us interpretative causes of the unfinished webs of Persephone.

Claudian, De Raptu Proserpine 3.137-158
This said, Ceres left the temple; but no speed is enough for her haste; she complains that her sluggish dragons scarce move, and, lashing the wings now of this one and now of that (though little they deserved it), she hopes to reach Sicily e’er yet out of sight of Ida. She fears everything and hopes nothing, anxious as the bird that has entrusted its unfledged brood to a low-growing ash and while absent gathering food has many fears lest perchance the wind has blown the fragile nest from the tree, lest her young ones be exposed to the theft of man or the greed of snakes. When she saw the gate-keepers fled, the house unguarded, the rusted hinges, the overthrown doorposts, and the miserable state of the silent halls, pausing not to look again at the disaster, she rent her garment and tore away the shattered corn-ears along with her hair. She could not weep nor speak nor breathe and a trembling shook the very marrow of her bones; her faltering steps tottered. She flung open the doors and wandering through the empty rooms and deserted halls, recognized the half-ruined warp with its disordered threads and the work of the loom broken off. The goddess’ labours had come to naught, and what remained to be done, that the bold spider was finishing with her sacrilegious web.

The Third Vatican Mythographer 12.5
I recall reading nothing that I have judged worthy to be handed on as to why it is said Bacchus was born of Semele, one of the daughters of Cadmus, when Jove’s lightning shone before her. But I have decided not to pass over the fact that there were four sisters: Ina, Autonoe, Semele, and Agave. And, as Fulgentius says, there are four kinds of drunkenness: from wine, forgetfulness of things, lust, and insanity. The first is Ina, which means “wine”; second is Autonoe, “not knowing herself”; third is Semele, which means “unfettered body”; fourth is Agave, whom I pass over, because the meaning of this name happens to seem unsuitable, or it was unknown to the Romans. But we shall compare her to insanity because, as we read in the story, the drunken Agave cut off the head of her own son, Pentheus. Furthermore, so that we might seem to go more deeply, the story says that the Giants found Bacchus inebriated. After they tore him to pieces limb by limb, they buried the bits, and a little while later he arose alive and whole. We read that the disciples of Orpheus interpreted this fiction philosophically and that they represent this story in his sacred rites.

Lactantius Placidus, Narrationes Fabularum Ovidianarum 7.3
Having seen Medea expel Aeson’s old age with her medicines, Father Liber asked her to help his nurses in the same way and lead them back to youthful vigor. Driven by his authority, by the medicines she had used on Aeson, she restored them to the first fruits of youth. She gave Liber an everlasting favor.

This text strikes me as awfully Orphic – compare it to accounts of Phanes and Eros Protogenos – and yet I don’t recall seeing it discussed in that context before. (I mean, it specially hails him as EREKISITHPHE!) Of course, now that I say this I’ll probably run into that reference three or four times over the next couple days. Oh well, considering it’s Choes this text seemed appropriate.

PGM IV.1716-1870:
Sword of Dardanos: Rite which is called “sword,” which has no equal because of its power, for it immediately bends and attracts the soul of whomever you wish. As you say the spell, also say: “I am bending to my will the soul of him NN.”

Take a magnetic stone which is breathing and engrave Aphrodite sitting astride Psyche and with her left hand holding on her hair bound in curls. And above her head: “ACHMAGE RARPEPSEI”; and below Aphrodite and Psyche engrave Eros standing on the vault of heaven, holding a blazing torch and burning Psyche. And below Eros these names: “ACHAPA ADONAIE BASMA CHARAKO IAKOB IAO E PHARPHAREI.” On the other side of the stone engrave Psyche and Eros embracing one another and beneath Eros’s feet these letters: “SSSSSSSS,” and beneath Psyche’s feet: “EEEEEEEE.” Use the stone, when it has been engraved and consecrated, like this: put it under your tongue and turn it to what you wish and say this spell:

“I call upon you, author of all creation who spread your own wings over the whole world, you, the unapproachable and unmeasurable who breathe into every soul life-giving reasoning, who fitted all things together by your power, firstborn, founder of the universe, golden-winged, whose light is darkness, who shroud reasonable thoughts and breathe forth dark frenzy, clandestine one who secretly inhabit every soul. You engender an unseen fire as you carry off every living thing without growing weary of torturing it, rather having with pleasure delighted in pain from the time when the world came into being. You also come and bring pain, who are sometimes reasonable, sometimes irrational, because of whom men dare beyond what is fitting and take refuge in your light which is darkness. Most headstrong, lawless, implacable, inexorable, invisible, bodiless, generator of frenzy, archer, torch-carrier, master of all living sensation and of everything clandestine, dispenser of forgetfulness, creator of silence, through whom the light and to whom the light travels, infantile when you have been engendered within the heart, wisest when you have succeeded; I call upon you, unmoved by prayer, by your great name: AZARACHTHARAZA LATHA IATHAL Y Y Y LATHAI ATHA LLALAPH IOIOIO AI AI AI OUERIEU OIAI LEGETA RAMAI AMA RATAGEL, first-shining, night-shining, night rejoicing, night-engendering, witness, EREKISITHPHE ARARACHARARA EPHTHISIKERE IABEZEBYTH IT, you in the depth, BERIAMBO BERIAMBEBO, you in the sea, MERMERGO U, clandestine and wisest, ACHAPA ADONAIE MASMA CHARAKO IAKOB IAO CHAROUER AROUER LAILAM SEMESILAM SOUMARTA MARBA KARBA MENABOTH EIIA. Turn the ‘soul’ of her NN to me NN, so that she may love me, so that she may feel passion for me, so that she may give me what is in her power. Let her say to me what is in her soul because I have called upon your great name.”

And on a golden leaf inscribe this sword: “One THOURIEL MICHAEL GABRIEL OURIEL MISAEL IRRAEL ISTRAEL: May it be a propitious day for this name and for me who know it and am wearing it. I summon the immortal and infallible strength of God. Grant me the submission of every soul for which I have called upon you.” Give the leaf to a partridge to gulp down and kill it. Then pick it up and wear it around your neck after inserting into the strip the the herb called “boy love.”

The burnt offering which endows Eros and the whole procedure with soul is this: manna, 4 drams; storax, 4 drams; opium, 4 drams; myrrh, [f drams;] frankincense, saffron bdella, one-half dram each. Mix in rich dried fig and blend everything in equal parts with fragrant wine, and use it for the performance. In the performance first make a burnt offering and use it in this way.

I am braving the snow and ice and frigid winds to go down to the riverside and collect rocks for the making of magical Enorchean Stones. This will be the last batch since I’m running low on the yarn that Ariadne and Spider gave me and I generally feel it’s time to move on to different Orphic arts, so if you want one you better act fast! While I’m there I’ll be pouring out libations for the chthonic nymphs and the dead of Deukalion. Then I’ll be heading out to the shed where Galina and I perform animal sacrifice to drink in a silent memorial for the hero Orestes, brother of Erigone who was pursued by the Furies to Ikarian Athens. Later, once I’m well and truly drunk, we’ll sneak into a schoolyard and hang dolls of yarn from trees and swing for the Mournful Maiden in atonement for ancestral crimes. Then more wine and music and movies (I’m thinking Manoushe and Lickerish Quartet would be appropriately thematic – perhaps Hellbound: Hellraiser II if the night goes a certain way) and madness and ineffable mysteries of the bull-horned one.

And pictures. There’ll be plenty of pictures. Because a thing doesn’t exist on the internet unless there are pictures!

I suited up in heavy coat and ritual accoutrements, stuffed my pockets with some old recycled bags and a bottle of wine and braved the icy tundras of boreal New York. I figured I’d make my katabasis to the river near where Galina and I live as it’s the easiest route – straight down – though I did so with some trepidation. The cliff is steep – at points it’s a sheer drop, with only thorny brambles and jagged rocks to break your fall – and the last time I did it, at Lenaia, I stumbled and took my Thracian Adversary with me, nearly resulting in a watery death for the both of us. But I needed to gather the rocks: I’ve been promising them to folks since the noumenia and though I have just cause for putting it off – snowpocalypse 2014, fuck yeah - it weighs heavily upon my heart and I want to come out of Anthesteria purified of all debt. So I manned up …

… and discovered that the river had completely iced over – a thick sheet stretching from one side to the other with only a small hole in the center where all the ducks and geese had congregated. (Shouldn’t you guys have flown south by now? I’ve read my Aristotle – I know about migratory patterns!)

I pour out the libations to the river, the nymphs of this place, the chthonic nymphs and the dead of Deukalion then I decide to trudge through banks of snow high as my waist hoping to find a place along the shore where the river has broken through, all to no avail, until I finally reach a bridge. I climb up to the road and walk an insanely long distance in the other direction and though I do eventually find a suitable area, the way down appears far, far too perilous to risk.

At that point I consider turning back so that I can perform the supper of Orestes in the shed of death but I feel like I really need to get these stones started during Anthesteria, since people are depending on me. But on the other hand do I want to waste the entire day in fruitless searching making it so that I can’t perform the other required ceremonies?

Then two things happened.

Puscifer’s The Humbling River comes on my iPod and up ahead I spy the intersection of Liberty and Stone streets, one going in the direction of a small creek that feeds into the river.

Even someone as dense as I can spot a sign that clearly given.

So I walk the road of Stone which leads up to a mountain and after a while I begin to despair. A field has concealed the creek from my sight and I find myself in the midst of suburban sprawl with nary a pebble in view. I consider turning back again and spot a cyclopean structure someone has tagged with the letters MLK in purple spray-paint. A couple things flash in my mind – such and such – then I glance down and notice the creek streaming over some choice rocks that are relatively easy to get to. I thank my Lord, the Prince of the Underworld, duck under a thorny branch and begin doing my best impression of a nimble, goat-footed satyr down the slope.

Once I get to the creek I’m a little hesitant to cross to the other side to collect the rocks. They’re mossy and slick and the water is so cold that chunks of ice are floating in it. Though it’s slightly warmer than it’s been the last couple weeks, it necessitated the wearing of my trench coat to venture forth and if I took a spill I’d very likely catch hypothermia before I made the epic trek back home. Plus I’m tripping my ass off on amanitas and wine.

Fuck.

To have come all this way only to be sidelined by my own cowardice!

Then the prophet Jim Morrison began crooning:

Yeah, he took my baby
And he never bring her back
Alright!
Away, away, away in India
Away, away, away in India
That’s right!
Well, I woke up this morning
Got the crossroads on my mind

And I felt properly shamed.

If Orpheus could harrow hell to retrieve his lost love and Dionysos journey beyond the ends of the earth to conquer the Oriental nations then, damn it, I could risk getting my boots wet to cross a piddly stream. So I said a quick prayer and jumped …

… landing easily on the far side, just like a proper Fool should.

I gathered up nine nicely sized stones and headed home to warm up before my date with Orestes.

Five of the stones are claimed – but four remain up for grabs for any who want one.

So Don Frew has a piece up discussing his own experiences as a neopagan engaged in interfaith outreach and the valuable contributions his fellows have made in that area over the last couple decades. I’ve long argued that regardless of what pagan, polytheist, indigenous or traditionalist religion one practices we all owe a great debt to such trailblazers and the hard work they’ve put in and sacrifices they’ve made for us all. (Most recently I did so during the conversation we had with Rhyd Wildermuth on Wyrd Ways Radio.) So, once more everyone let’s give these folks a proper golf clap, as they deserve.

What I didn’t care for as much was his insinuation that ‘Wiccan Privilege’ exists only in the minds of jealous reconstructionists and angry hard polytheists and especially the repetition of that old tired mantra, “We’d be inclusive but they just don’t show up!”

A lot of us, in fact, have shown up to represent our respective traditions at local pagan pride events, interfaith meetings and the like only to have a less than cordial reception. I, alone, could provide a laundry list of instances where I came with good intent only to be told that all pagans hold this theological view or adhere to the ethics of the threefold rule or keep the eight sabbats and therefore if I wanted to play in their sandbox I had to hold to such things as well. When I explained why I did not and could not I was accused of being a troublemaker who didn’t care one whit about pagan unity. Another time I met a group of people who were genuinely interested in inclusivity and properly representing the diversity of the community and had tailored their language accordingly - but they still defaulted to the pentacle as a representative symbol since “it’s something found in all pagan traditions.” (Why yes, the Pythagorean star is used in Hellenismos – but with very different associations and intent than it often has in contemporary neopaganism.) Often in such exchanges they will then default to “well, we have the numbers so we make the rules” and “if you don’t like how we do things, organize your own stuff.”

Of course when we do that we get accused of being intolerant separatist fundamentalists so you just can’t win with these folks!

And mind you, this is all stuff that’s happened in the real world – we won’t go into the behavior of the dominant neopagan majority such as their trolling tactics or attempts to erase our presence and history which naturally produces a lot of the ill will between our respective communities.

But this is all old hat.

What I’d like to bring up is another reason, rarely considered, why you often don’t find us represented in the interfaith movement – we’re too fucking busy!

The reason they don’t have to consider it is because they represent the numerical majority. Go to any decently sized city and chances are you’ll find at least a couple Wiccan covens, Druid groves and generic goddess spirituality groups, often meeting out of an occult book store or UU church. But the likelihood of finding other people who practice your recon or traditional polytheist religion is pretty damn scarce unless you’re a Heathen – and that’s no guarantee that the folks you meet will hold views compatible with your form of Heathenry. A lot of us would have to travel out of state just to find a fellow practitioner and while some communities have a thriving online presence a lot of them don’t. I know more people than I have fingers who are shouldering entire traditions all by themselves – people who are tasked with responsibilities that go far beyond anything expected of laity. They have to write articles and books, keep festivals and perform regular sacrifices for all the gods of their pantheons, teach classes, run forums or e-mail lists and if any events are to be organized it falls to them to do so. Why? Because no one else is there to pick up the slack – either because there are only a couple folks, period, still holding to these traditions or because of widespread apathy and incompetence in their community.

Even when the situation isn’t so extreme those of us who are actively engaged in the restoration of our traditions often get loaded with a ton of work to do and unless we are specifically called by our gods and spirits to engage in interfaith outreach we don’t have the time, energy or resources to do so, at least not effectively.

And instead of making an effort to understand or assist Wiccans and neopagans would rather slap us in the face and say, “The reason you’re not keeping up is because you don’t want to!”

And that is why we accuse you of privilege.

I know I’ve been hitting the Polytheist Leadership Conference hard of late but it’s for this very reason. Maybe if enough folks who truly value pluralism and divine diversity got together and started brainstorming ways that they could collaborate and support each other in their efforts to restore the worship of these amazing gods and spirits we could actually accomplish something spectacular – and free up the manpower and resources to engage in other pursuits – like participating in the wider interfaith community. (Though, personally, that would never be very high up on my list of priorities.)

And Galina provides us with a timely reminder that plenty of polytheists have engaged in interfaith work, despite neopagan claims to the contrary.

Figured I’d snap some pictures of the Enorchean stones while in the process of making them.

First you start off with some sacred river rocks in a bowl:

Then you add specially consecrated Anthesteria wine:

Then let them soak up the energy of the god:

They’ll stew for about a week and then I’ll inscribe them with the care-loosening charm from the holy verses of Homer and wrap them with the gift of the Klothide Maidens.

Before I bring the night to a close I wanted to share this picture of the yarn dolls we made for Erigone:

We ended up having to go to a couple different places because the playgrounds we’d scoped out over the weekend were either thoroughly snowed in or didn’t have swing-sets. We hung the dolls from an old barren tree and watched Galina’s god-daughter swing (the seats were too small for us and we didn’t feel like going to the next town over to continue the search) while a cold wind blew through the dark, empty park.

Something I noticed today – libations of wine poured out on snow look an awful lot like blood.

It always amuses me when people infer things from my writing that not only have not been said by me but never would be said by me. Case in point, there’s a person who’s rather upset because they believe that I am claiming to be a leader of the polytheist community. I’d be awfully interested in seeing where I’ve asserted such a thing because the simple truth is I am completely averse to that role after what I went through in the Hellenic and Greco-Egyptian communities. I have many (many, many) skills but being a leader sure as hell isn’t one of them.

What I have argued is that there is currently a deficit of leadership within contemporary polytheism and I am trying to do my part to rectify that situation by creating the Polytheist Leadership Conference so that folks from various traditions can get together and find common ground and practical ways to support each other and more importantly can have the opportunity to share their experiences and insights with their fellows in the hope that this will enable them to collectively begin finding solutions and addressing that deficit. In fact my involvement in this is strictly on the organizational and promotional level – once we’re all there in Fishkill I intend to sit back and listen to what these smart, talented and devoted folks have got to say to the point that I won’t even be presenting at this event. Does that really sound like the actions of a would-be tyrant to you?

I am equally baffled by this person’s accusations that I despise the unwashed masses and look down my nose at the laity in our community. While it’s true that I have characterized neopagans as unwashed before (look, I’ve been to Pantheacon) I have nothing but respect for people who are doing their best to live a full, rewarding life and are engaged with their holy powers at whatever level they and those powers deem necessary. While it’s true that I often encourage people to do more I have argued over and over and over and over again that we shouldn’t all be doing the same things and that it’s dangerous to compare yourself to others or hold yourself to the sorts of standards that they do. And you especially should not compare yourself to me because I’m a religious fanatic who has made my whole life about service to the gods and spirits, stripping away anything and everything that does not further the work, even to the point of cutting out family and friends to do so. Look, the gods already have a Sannion – what they need is you and what you can offer, whatever that may be.

So it’s not because people are laity or are lacking in hygiene (tardiness bothers me far more) it’s because they’re people that I despise them. I am a misanthrope. I have strong hierarchical values – and humans come far below not only the gods and spirits in my list of priorities but also animals and trees. Though I do not go around shoving my views down people’s throats I have often received flak from ”tolerant” “liberals” for not sharing their concern for social activism, despite the plentiful conditional charity I do engage in.

Apparently that’s not enough for my current interlocutor. This person is upset that I fail to live up to their ideals and insists that my lack of humancentrism disqualifies me from any kind of leadership position within a religious community. (Good thing I have no interest in being a leader, huh?)

Why?

Why do leaders have to be all things to all people?

I’m not your buddy, I’m not your counselor, I’m not nice or someone you should look up to and emulate. And I have never pretended to be.

If you want to know how to perform decent ritual, or where to find some obscure Classical reference, or need competent divination or magic done or how to handle it when the gods crack open your head and disrupt your life or you are looking for witty, sarcastic and provocative commentary on the controversy du jour – that you come to me for!

I do not offer you anything more than that and I will not conform to your expectations or consent to be placed on some kind of pedestal by you, especially since every time you people do that and I behave exactly as I told you I would you freak out and start going on a tirade against me.

Either accept me on my terms or fuck off.

And people wonder why I’m misanthropic.

One of my readers in the San Bernardino area is looking to meet up with local Hellenic polytheists – if you can make recommendations it’d be greatly appreciated.