Sannion has written a lovely sequence of daily prayers to Dionysos, one for each day of the week. Check them out here: via Daily Hymns
I saw this on twitter (courtesy of Astro Museum). It’s a medallion with Hermes (Mercury) holding the infant Bacchus. It’s electrotype by E. Hannaux, French. c. 1895-1905. I just love this image so much, the strength and tenderness in Hermes comes through so palpably.
A friend of mine is currently working in Beirut and had the opportunity to visit Baalbeck, which is home to a temple complex in stunning condition. The city was known as Heliopolis in ancient times (a quick look at wiki confirmed this) and the temple complex, a UNESCO World Heritage site, has a Temple to Bacchus and a Temple to Jupiter. My friend was kind enough to allow me to share his photographs with you, though he wishes to remain anonymous. These are just breathtaking (esp. the plaque with the image of Bacchus).
The Dionysos Agon closes tonight at 9pm EST.
by J. Starman
Dionysos how now You come;
from silence You come at the hour
when a banquet has been set for my king.
You come on quick feet, dancing a satyr’s beat.
Around You turn me and I rejoice, inflamed
and I lay tokens at Your thrice blessed feet,
honoring You as so my Lord honors You,
embracing You as my Lord embraces You.
My kiss is but His kiss upon Your hem
It is my Bacchic Lord, who through me exclaims
to rejoice in You and Your great company,
to sing praise of the thrice born King.
Running From Dionysos
Let me tell you a story,
Many years ago, when I was a boy, my parents abandoned me.
At night, I used to sit by my bedroom window and wait for my mother to come home. Sometimes she did.
Sometimes, it was better when she didn’t.
My banished father was broken and blinded by his own sadness. He is almost a stranger to me.
Every night I would sit, wait, and even pray for someone to come rescue me. No one ever did.
Not God, not Jesus, not even the Devil. So I prayed to Others.
Every night a piece of me would die
until there was nothing left but my pain and rage.
A night of rage
Stabbing wounds into a wall
Holding the knife just under my sternum, preparing for the upward thrust.
A voice saying “No.”
It wasn’t the Beautiful General.
It was the Warrior.
“You will Endure.”
“Put down the blade and pick up the iron.”
“We will harden you and We will forge you into something new.”
“Serve Me and Endure!”
So I did.
But there is a price.
The Warrior is a loyal but hard taskmaster.
Decades have passed and still the pain and rage roils within my iron-forged body.
My body breaks with its containment. My armor no longer serves as it did in the past.
Yet I Endure.
But for how long?
Life has approached me with twinkling eyes and an outstretched hand.
“Let me help.”
“Let me return to you that which died so long ago.”
I drink of His gift and for brief moments I glimpse and experience those parts of me I’ve forgotten,
Those parts He says He can return to me.
Yet I run from Him, called The Joy of Man.
“Let me help”, says the Emancipator.
I recoil in my pain and rage.
“Let me help”, says the Gentle One.
My body aches in pain as I limp away and say to myself through clenched jaw,
May I someday turn to Him and say,
“Please help me.”
by Wynn Dark
Darkness flows with tidal churning.
Blood and wine in the waters of life.
Minds roil and drown in the rhythm of crest and trough.
Some remember Your passing, the wake of it still rippling in their veins.
Others cry out Your name in praise, whether the waters fill their lungs or no.
Most only feel You without knowing what has passed and shudder in their skins for reasons they cannot fathom.
I remember, tossed on a different sea yet the same, I remember.
Alcohol loosens inhibitions
smooths social interactions
helps the shy be bold
The best way to look absurd
on the theater stage
is to hold back
Asserting our own gender
—not that which we were given
when we were born—
inhabiting our own
The twists and turns and tangles
of a mind that wars itself
sometimes are the soil and seed
One cannot be swept away
by the Gods or spirits
if one clings white-knuckled
to the physical
O Dionysos Liberator
You Who Shatter Chains
Releaser of Control
I pray to you
Remember, folks, there are still a few days left in the agon. if you’ve been thinking about submitting something, now’s the time.
The God of Broken Souls
There are Gods for those who take up arms,
To protect their families and tribes.
There are Gods for those who till the earth,
And reap the bounty from Gaia’s depths.
There are Gods for those who are clever,
With their words and their hands.
And then there is a God for the rest of us,
We who are broken in body, mind, or spirit,
We who polite society frowns upon.
He understands our suffering,
For He has suffered.
He understands what it’s like to be human,
For His beloved mother was a human.
He understands what it’s like to be shunned,
For He was shunned from Mount Olympos,
Before His triumphant return there.
This God is the great and powerful Dionysos,
Lover of the outcast and downtrodden,
Loosener of cares,
Master of revelry,
Breaker of chains.
What would we do without Dionysos’ love?
I honestly do not know.
I am only thankful that He is always here for us.
He wraps His protective arms around us,
Offers us sweet wine from His cup,
And then He leads us in His dance.
Let us always praise Him. Io Dionysos!