Tonight I’d like to talk about one of the greatest devotional hymns ever written about the god Dionysos: Simple Minds’ 80s classic Don’t You (Forget About Me).
Granted, most people probably haven’t thought of this song quite in that context before. In fact, it’s a pretty safe bet that many of you (or at least those of you who are of a certain age) find it difficult to hear this song and think of anything other than the seminal John Hughes teen comedy for which it was composed. Of course, that needn’t be as big of a stumbling block as one might assume since Breakfast Club is full of Dionysian themes. (Rebellion against authority, transgression of social norms, breaking down artificial boundaries, dissolution of identity and discovery of a deeper, more authentic self; hell, there’s even ingestion of mind-altering substances.)
But the song goes much deeper than that. The lyrics are full of allusions to Dionysos and the experience of being initiated into his mysteries. At least, that’s how it comes across to me, though I confess that I don’t really know what the author intended. But with lines like this, you’ve got to wonder.
Won’t you come see about me?
Ah, the Great Invitation of Dionysos, calling the mad ones out of their homes and ordinary lives to revel with him in the wild places. This comes to each of us at different times and different ways. How will you respond to the call? What will you give up to follow him?
I’ll be alone, dancing you know it baby
Dionysos, of course, is the dancer, choreios, and the dance. Often, however, there is a solitariness to him, a stillness amid the flurry and frenzy of the throng.
Tell me your troubles and doubts
Dionysos is Meilichios, the Gentle One, he who brings forgetfulness of cares, he who frees the soul from its constraints, he who, in the words of Nonnos, wept to stop the tears of mortal man from flowing.
Giving me everything inside and out
There are those who come to the celebrations of Dionysos. They want to have fun, get drunk, and feel, for a few moments at least, the blessed liberation of the god. These are the wand-bearers that Plato spoke of. But there’s another group as well, the Bakkhai. They’re in it for the long-haul. They’re committed to living the Dionysian life, to being free. But you know what freedom costs? Everything. Your fears, your doubts, your inhibitions, your desire to lead a normal life: all of these must be sacrificed on the altar of the god if you would be a true mystai. And that’s just the start. The real work of liberation takes place inside you, within your soul. It is messy, and painful, and challenging in ways you never could have expected going into it. But once you’ve started, you can’t turn back. Having tasted the freedom he offers, you’ll never be satisfied with anything less.
Love’s strange
To the Orphics, Dionysos was the Primordial Eros and love the path that leads back to the divine. Love changes the way we think and relate to the world; it makes us strangers to our mundane selves.
so real in the dark
The world by night is a different place than it is during the day. Mysterious, magical, frightening, playing tricks on our perception: this is the realm that the god inhabits, the time when he and his holy band revel in the hills. This is where initiation takes place, where we come to learn of the real things.
Think of the tender things that we were working on
We are the tender things, once the god has begun working on us, stripping back the layers, releasing what has lain hidden for so long. We are vulnerable in this state, like Marysas with his flesh flayed. And so we must do our part to speed the process along; the more we struggle, the greater the pain we feel. But if we submit it passes quickly. Thus our spiritual transformation is a collaborative effort between us and the god.
Slow change may pull us apart
Going to take you apart
I’ll put us back together at heart, baby
The ancient poets tell us that before Dionysos there was Zagreus, and that Zagreus was torn apart by the Titans and all of his flesh was consumed save his heart. Though this dismemberment was horrible, out of the remnants our god Dionysos was formed, created with the heart of Zagreus. This is the process of initiation, which we all must go through. First we are dismembered, our shattered limbs and consciousness scattered to the winds. Then, through the agency of the god, we are brought back together, made anew in his image, healed and restored. First dismemberment, then remembering.
I won’t harm you or touch your defenses
Vanity and security
Though Dionysos wishes for us to be whole and free, he will not force this upon us. We must make the choice on our own. If we feel the need for boundaries, he will respect them. He may push against them, up to that point, but he won’t cross it, not unless we ask him to. Of course, we may miss out on a great many things because of that, and often the defenses we cling to the strongest are the most harmful to us, born of fear and dysfunction. But the sacrifice must be a willing one.
Will you stand above me?
Look my way, never love me
Will you recognise me?
Call my name or walk on by
These lines remind us that Dionysos is singing a beautiful love-song to humanity. We humans are like Ariadne, abandoned and desolate on the beach of Naxos; we are in danger of succumbing to the slumber of the senses. But he seeks to rouse us, to stir within us a memory of who we are and who he is and what the world is truly like – divine and full of enchantment, as in the glorious prose hymn of Nietzsche. He wants us to recognize him, like Akoites alone among the Tyrhennian pirates; he wants us to follow him into the forest and revel in freedom, to call out his name in joyous celebration.
Well, will you?
Tagged: dionysos, music, orpheus
