#dionysus devotee

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dionysia-ta-astika:

You have come to see the divine procession.

Last thing you knew, you were standing in CVS to buy flowers and chocolates for your sweetheart, but then you stepped outside and saw the procession in all its glory, and remembered that thisis what you’re really supposed to be doing. So now you are running towards the parade, running as though you might miss it if you don’t get there fast enough. You take the head off one of the roses and strew its petals on the ground, singing.

You’ve been feeling listless lately, and the arrival of the Mad God is something to look forward to. It is a spectacle. He’s brought through the city streets on a ship that rolls along the ground like a carriage, and he is accompanied by a train of masked revelers: women with sticks and loose dresses, men with ugly masks and dragging leather phalloi between their legs. Leaves and flowers, bright torches, the clash of cymbals and wail of flutes. The screaming has already started.

You have not seen the god before. You do not know what he looks like, but you thought you saw a mask that was intended to be his face. You remember it had a crown of vines, and bovine horns, and a manic expression. You ask the person next to you, “Why is the god mad?” and they turn their head much too slowly. They wear a theatrical satyr mask, with curling horns, and a too-wide mouth that looks like a gaping hole that is laughing at you.

“Don’t you know?

“No.”

Oh.Well, why do you think, then?”

You have not considered this question before. It has something to do with wine, you think, but that can’t be all there is to it. You decide that the god is mad because he wants to be; he’s a god, he can be whatever he wants. So if he didn’t want to be mad, he wouldn’t be.

The boat-carriage is drawn by magnificent leopards with golden pelts. You pet one as it passes, running your hand through its silken fur, and it licks your wrist.

The procession passes, and behind it, in the negative space where it just was, is a swamp.  The swamp is swollen with meltwater. There are half-buried jars of wine in the mud, left open. The whole world is open today, so the dead are here. The god brought them up with him, and they come in their own pale procession, silent. They are thirsty. They are attracted by the blood of the living. You don’t have any blood to give them, so they swarm like insects around the open wine jars half-buried in the swampy ground. They are here not as a menace, but as friends and guests, which is why they get the first of the wine.

You beckon a lost soul towards the jar nearest to you, and it comes like a shy cat to a bowl of milk. “Who did you used to be?” you ask it. It looks up at you with hollow eyes, and does not answer.

You return to the center of the city, and find that the revel is in full swing. You push through the red silk, the incense smoke, the mass of masked faces and writhing bodies. Your ears echo with the cacophony of obscene screams. The architecture of the city is strange, off somehow, though you can’t place it. These buildings look ancient, but not derelict — their ivy-twined columns are still standing, and their walls burnished white.

You don’t know where you’re going, but you arrive at a small perfumed tent draped in red, where someone is dancing in a dim spotlight. It is a young man, dressed like a harem girl in sheer purple scarves, with ribbons and flowers in his hair. His dark hair swirls around him like the smoke, and in a blur of arms he swaps out the masks in front of his face — a comic rictus, an evil grimace, a horned beast, a beautiful woman. Bells tinkle on his ankles as he dances to the eerie flute music. You sit down on a plush purple couch and watch him, mesmerized. Someone throws coins at his feet. He ignores them.

He playfully throws one of his scarves at you, and it lands on your head, draping over your face. Through its translucent fabric, he seems distorted, uncanny. He beckons you to dance with him. Some distant voice in your head tells you that you should not take it, that you will make a mockery of all decency if you dance like that. But the voice is not very powerful, not in comparison to the glint of his leaf-colored eyes. So you step up onto the raised platform. You try to match his slow, sensuous movements, but you can’t make your hips do that serpentine thing that he does. Laughing, he takes your hands in his, and lifts a ceramic cup to your lips. You don’t remember seeing him receive a drink, but now there is a cup pressing your lips apart. You take a sip of whatever’s in the cup — it’s a rich, sweet wine. It almost tastes like honey, and you greedily take a larger gulp of before he pulls the cup away.

Maybe it’s the smoke, or maybe it’s something in the wine, but you are starting to hallucinate. The man has horns. You are certain they aren’t connected to his mask; no, they are thick, curving bovine horns that stretch like branches from the wreath of leaves on his head. Was there an ivy wreath on his head before? You can’t remember.

Dizzy and intoxicated, you lie down on the nearest couch, sinking into red and purple silk. Your brain is starting to blink like fireflies. You grope up at the young man’s mask, like a cat batting at a ball of yarn, and pull it off. The horns do not come away with it. The man has a very pretty, androgynous face, framed by his dark curls that hang down like vines as he leans over you. His cheeks are flushed. “Hi,” he says cheerfully. “I hope you’re having fun.”

“Fun…” you mumble.

“You’ve been so stressed and anxious lately. Life getting to you? I thought you should take a load off. You deserve it.” He smiles a golden-honey grin. “Please don’t ask why. You alwaysask why.”

“Who are you?” you ask.

But you know. You know. Beneath his eyes is swirling, primordial blackness. It calls to you, tugs at you, entices you to dive headfirst into the abyss.

“I can’t stay long,” he whispers. “I’m getting married tonight.”

“Oh… congrats. To whom?”

“To the queen!” He giggles coquettishly. “She’s waiting for me. But I’ve still got time to play…”

You miss the rest of the sentence, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters right now, except for his presence, which is considerably bigger than his body. It’s like he’s glowing with a warm and seductive radiance that fills the whole tent, that both envelops and penetrates you.

His lips taste like ripe grapes.

You wonder, briefly, if this is what the queen will experience when he comes to her in her ritual chamber for their secret and sacred marriage. You wonder if maybe this isthe ritual chamber. You are dimly aware that the tent is now empty except for you and him, but you can still hear the screams and laughter and music tangling together just outside the tent.

“Life can be delicious you know.” He takes a swig from the same cup as before and smirks at you. “It doesn’t have to be hard. It doesn’t have to be painful. It can be all bright colors and heady scents and fine tastes. Voluptuous.”

That’s crazy, you want to say. Of course life is hard. You’d have to be mad to believe otherwise. But you don’t say that. Instead, you start laughing, laughing until your sides split and your face splits. The laughter doesn’t really sound like your own. This can’t be your voice, can it? But still, you feel the rush of catharsis. Whoever told you that life was about suffering? All you’ve ever wanted was to laugh in their face.

This is the real Secret, you think. Not that ‘law of attraction’ bullshit. THIS. Milk and honey, wine and blood. Something older, older, older than human footsteps. This is whythere are gods. Gods are what you see when you pull back the curtain. Are the Mysteries all this obvious? Seized with sudden mania, you start dancing again, and your ecstatic screams rise to join the rest. You don’t remember your own name or who you were before you got here, or what your real face looks like. Maybe this isyour real face.

You are surrounded by people now, though you don’t remember leaving the tent. Their torches sting your eyes. Burning, burning, burning. They bare bright smiles, genuinely joyful, but with sharp and bloody teeth. They have snakes entwined in their hair and draped over their shoulders like scarves. Some have the faces of satyrs, bulls, goats, cats, foxes, bears, owls, moths, dragonflies, bees, kings… Some are alive and some are dead, but you can’t quite tell the ghosts from the living. They surround you in a great ring, joining hands, singing that strange and wild song that you’ve been half-hearing all night. Flowers spring up on the flagstones wherever you step. That bright, blooming energy that you felt before rises within your own chest. It’s in you now, the god is swelling inside you now. You no longer fit in your own skin. You flail, you thrash, you stamp your feet, you keep screaming: “EUOI! EUOI! IO DIONYSOS!”

Sweet is the pleasure the god brings us in the mountains.
when from the running revelers
he falls to the ground clad in his sacred fawnskin. Hunting
the blood of slaughtered goats for the joy of devouring raw flesh
[…]
Hail to the Roaring God, Bromios our leader! Euoi!
The ground flows with milk,
Flows with wine,
Flows with the nectar of bees.
Euripides,Bacchae.

You are sitting on a swing, your legs pumping you back and forth. You don’t remember why. Something about the god having cursed the city’s women to hang themselves as punishment for having killed his worshippers, unless they swung in atonement and remembrance. But you know that can’t be the real reason — swinging is no punishment, not like this. It’s fun. Your heart swells as the swing arcs towards the sky. You feel like you could lift right off of it and go soaring through the heavens, towards the rising sun, with no wax wings to bring you down. Something about the swing feels so freeing,even if you are locked in place, not moving anywhere. Back and forth, back and forth… it’s lulling, like a song that was sung to you once in your distant childhood, or a dream you once had. When you get off, unsteady on your feet, you feel a burden has been lifted. 

Now the time has come. Now the flowers are here.

My entry for Dionysia Ta Astika this year! 

Dionysus

Other Names: Bacchus, Zagreus, Liber
Epithets: Bakkhos (frenzied), Bromios (the roaring), Eleutheros (the liberator), Meilichios (the mild/gracious), Maenoles (the mad), Nyctelius (of the night), Nyctipolos (night-stalker), Staphylites (of the grape), Theoineos (god of wine), Agathos Daimon (good spirit), Oenops (wine-faced), Antheos (the blooming), Kisseus (of the ivy), Kittophoros (ivy-bearer), Dimetor (twice-born/of two mothers), Dimorphos (two-formed), Dithyrambos (of the dithyramb), Areios (warlike), Kryphios (hidden), Karpios (of the harvest), Hyes (of moisture/the dripping), Ekstatophoros (bringer of ecstasy), Boukeros (bull-horned), Aigobolus (goat-slayer), Melanaegis (of the black goat-skin), Lysios (loosener/deliverer), Lenaeus (of the wine-press), Limnaios (of the marsh/liminal), Psilas (giver of wings), Psilax (uplifted on wings), Soter (savior), Khthoinios (of the Underworld), Dendrites (of trees), Eubouleos (of good counsel), Polymorphos (many-formed), Khryphion (hidden), Khoreutes (the dancer), Melpomenus (singer/of the tragedy play), Phleon (the luxuriant), Omadios/Omaphagos/Omestes (flesh-eater), Bassareus (the fox), Androgynos (androgynous), Agronios (wild, savage), Oinops (wine-dark/wine-faced).
Domains:Wine, ritual ecstasy and trance, festivals and revelry, pleasure, madness, hallucinations, intoxication, liberation, fruit, androgyny, GNC and LGBTQ+ people, viticulture, theater and choral songs, life-force, reincarnation.
Appearance: He appears to me as an androgynous and beautiful young man with long, curly hair that flows over his shoulders (it’s usually dark brown but seems to change color, being occasionally blond, black, strawberry, etc.). He has wild eyes that are vine-green or the pinkish-purple of grapes, and they’re usually either bright and laughing or disturbingly mad-looking. He typically has ruddy cheeks and a bright smile. He’s usually not wearing much beyond a cloth draped over his body (in white or purple) and/or a leopard pelt, but sometimes appears in in casual modern clothing with a leopard-print jacket. He often wears a grape headdress, and he sometimes has horns resembling a bull’s, ram’s, or goat’s. His laughter is both musical and utterly insane. His aura is the reddish-purple of grapes.
Sacred Days and Festivals: Greater/City Dionysia (10-17 Elaphebolion). Lesser/Rural Dionysia (10 Poseideon). Lenaia (12-15 Gamelion). Anthesteria (11-13 Anthesterion). Oskophoria (8 Pynapsion). Haloa (26 Poseideon). Agrionia (nocturnal women’s festival).
Symbols/Attributes:Grapes, thyrsus, masks, drinking cups, ivy leaves, tambourine, winnowing basket, honey, phallus, animal skins, leopard-print fabric.
Sacred Animals: Leopard/panther, bull, serpent, goat, fox, bee, frog, bat
Sacred Plants: Grapevine, ivy, fig, pine, fennel, orchis, thistle.
Elemental Affinity: Earth, water, darkness.
Planet:Neptune (modern)
Colors:Purple, green, gold, burgundy, black.
Crystals: Amethyst, grape agate, black diamond
Incense:Grape, fig, fennel, musk, cinnamon, frankincense, storax, vanilla, cannabis.
Tarot Cards: Temperance, The Hanged Man, The Fool, The Devil, The Hierophant, The King of Pentacles.
Retinue: (called the thiasus) Maenads/Bacchantes, satyrs, seilenoi, Ariadne, Silenus, Pan, Thyone (Semele), Kotys, Korymbos, Aristaios, Phales, Methe, Telete
Associated People: Actors, social outcasts, women, androgynous/LGBT+ people.
Offerings: Wine, honey, grapes, figs, other fruit, ivy, pinecones, milk with honey, mead, sparkling juice, masks, stories/poetry/plays, dance, donations to community theaters or big cat conservation.
Syncretized With: Liber Pater, Sabazius, Osiris (though personally I think Shezmu fits better), Serapis, Tammuz, Shiva, Flufluns

Hymns to Dionysus

Homeric Hymn 26 to Dionysus

I begin to sing of ivy-crowned Dionysus, the loud-crying god,
Splendid son of Zeus and glorious Semele.
The rich-haired Nymphs received him in their bosoms from the lord his father
And fostered and nurtured him carefully in the dells of Nysa,
Where by the will of his father
He grew up in a sweet-smelling cave,
Being reckoned among the immortals.
But when the goddesses had brought him up, a god oft hymned,
Then began he to wander continually through the woody coombes,
Thickly wreathed with ivy and laurel.
And the Nymphs followed in his train with him for their leader;
And the boundless forest was filled with their outcry.
And so hail to you, Dionysus, god of abundant clusters!
Grant that we may come again rejoicing to this season,
And from that season onwards for many a year.

Orphic Hymn to Dionysus

Dionysos I call, loud-roaring and divine,
Primeval God, a two-fold shape is thine:

Thy various names and attributes I sing,
O, twice-born, thrice begotten, Bacchic king: 

Wild, ineffable, two-form’d, obscure, two-horn’d,
With ivy crown’d, howling, pure.

Bull-fac’d, and warlike, bearer of the vine,
Endowed with counsel prudent [Eubouleos] and divine:

Triennial, whom the leaves of vines adorn,
Of Zeus and Persephone, occultly born.

Immortal daimon, hear my suppliant voice,
Give me in blameless plenty to rejoice;

And listen gracious to my mystic pray'r,
Surrounded with thy choir of nurses fair.

Orphic Hymn to Dionysus Khthonios

Dionysos Khthonios, hear my pray’r,
Awakened rise with nymphs of lovely hair:
Great Amphietos Bakkhos, annual god,
Who laid asleep in Persephone’s abode,
Did’st lull to drowsy and oblivious rest,
The rites triennial, and the sacred feast;
Which rous’d again by thee, in graceful ring,
Thy nurses round thee mystic anthems sing;
When briskly dancing with rejoicing pow’rs,
Thou move’st in concert with the circling hours.
Come, blessed, fruitful, horned, and divine,
And on these rites with joyful aspect shine.
Accept the general incense and pray’r,
And make prolific holy fruits thy care.

Orphic Hymn to Dionysos Lenaios

Hear me, Zeus’s son, blest Bacchus, god of wine,
Born of two mothers, honor’d and divine,
Lysian, Euion Bacchus, various-nam’d,
Secret child of gods, holy, fam’d
Fertile and nourishing, in whose liberal care
Earth’s fruits increases, flourishing and fair;
Sounding, magnanimous, Lenaean pow’r
O various-form’d, medicinal, holy flow’r:
Mortals in thee, repose from labour find,
Delightful charm, desir’d by all mankind:
Fair-hair’d Euion, Bromios, joyful God,
Lysian, invested in the leafy rod.
To these our rites, benignant pow’r incline,
When fav’ring men, or when on Gods you shine;
Be present to thy mystic’s suppliant pray’r,
Rejoicing come, and fruits abundant bear.

Orphic Hymn to Triennial Dionysus

Bacchus frantic, many-nam’d, blest, divine,
Bull-faced Lenaean, bearer of the vine,
From fire descended, raging, Nysian king,
From whom initial ceremonies spring:
Liknitan Dionysos, pure and firey bright,
Eubouleos, crown-bearer, wandering in the night:
Pupil of Persephone, mysterious pow’r,
Triple, ineffable, Zeus’ secret flow’r,
Ericapaeus, first-begotten nam’d,
Of Gods the father, and the child fam’d,
Bearing a scepter, leader of the choir,
Whose dancing feat, frantic Furies fire,
When the triennial band thou dost inspire.
Loud-sounding, Tages, of a firey light,
Born of two mothers, Amphitios bright:
Wand’ring on mountains, cloth’d with skins of deer,
Apollo, golden-ray’d, whom all revere.
God of the grape with leaves of ivy crown’d,
Bassarian, lovely, virgin-like, renown’d,
Come blessed pow’r, regard thy mystic’s voice,
Propitious come, and in these rites rejoice.

Orphic Hymn to Dionysus Bassarius:

Come, blessed Dionysus, various nam’d, bull-faced,
Begot from Thunder, Bacchus fam’d
Bassarian God, of universal might,
Whom swords and blood and sacred rage delight:
In heav’n rejoicing, mad, loud-sounding God
Furious inspirer, bearer of the Rod
By Gods rever’d, who dwells’t with humankind,
Propitious come, with much-rejoicing mind.

Orphic Hymn to Dionysus Liknitos:

Liknitan Dionysos, bearer of the vine,
Thee I invoke to bless these rites divine:
Florid and gay, of nymphs the blossom bright,
And of fair Venus, goddess of delight,
Tis thine mad footsteps with mad nymphs to beat
Dancing thro’ groves with lightly leaping feet:
From Zeus’ high counsels nursed by Proserpine
And born the dread of all pow’rs divine:
Come, blessed daimon, regard thy suppliant’s voice,
Propitious come, and in these rites rejoice.

Orphic Hymn to Dionysus Perikionios:

Dionysos Perikionios, hear my pray’r,
Who mad’st the house of Cadmus once thy care,
With matchless force, his pillars twining round
When burning thunders shook the solid ground
In flaming, founding torrents borne along,
Propt by thy grasp indissolubly strong.
Come mighty Bacchus to these rites inclin’d,
And bless thy suppliant with rejoicing mind.

Verses from the first Hymn to Dionysus in Euripedes’ Bacchae

O blessed is he who, happy in his heart,
Knows the initiation rites of the gods,
Purifies his life and
Joins his soul to the cult,
Dancing on the mountains, with holy purifications
Celebrating the Bacchic rituals.
O blessed the man who dutifully observes
The mysteries of the Great Mother, Kybele.
Swinging high the thyrsus
And crowned with ivy
He serves Dionysus.
Onward you Bacchae, onward Bacchae,
Escort the roaring Bromios home,
A god an the son of a god! Escort him
Down from the Phrygian mountains into Greece’s wide-wayed streets,
Streets wide for dancing, Bromios the Roaring God!
[…]
Sweet is the pleasure the god brings us in the mountains.
when from the running revelers
he falls to the ground clad in his sacred fawnskin. Hunting
the blood of slaughtered goats for the joy of devouring raw flesh
he rushes through the mountains of Lydia, of Phrygia.
Hail to the Roaring God, Bromios our leader! Euoi!
The ground flows with milk,
Flows with wine,
Flows with the nectar of bees.
The Bacchic One, lifting high
the bright-burning flame of the pine-torch,
like the smoke of Syrian frankincense,
springs up and rushes along with his thyrsus.
Running and dancing he incites any wanderers,
shakes them with shouts of joy
tossing his luxuriant locks to the wind.

(Translation by Stephen Esposito)

Horace’s Hymn to Bacchus

Bacchus on the far-off rocky hills, teaching
his chants – you who are still to come, believe me –
I saw him and his student Nymphs and
goat-footed Satyrs and their pointed ears.

Euhoë! – my soul trembles with that moment’s fear,
Bacchus possesses my breast and I madly
rejoice. Euhoë!, spare me, god of freedom [Liber],
spare me, god of the fearful thyrsus of power.

I must celebrate your inexhaustible
revelers, and the fountains of wine and full
rivers of milk, and mirror in song
honey dripping from the hollows of trees;

I must celebrate your bride and her
constellated crown, and Pentheus’ palace
shaken to bits in a mighty downfall,
and the destruction of Lycurgus of Thrace.

You control the streams, the savage sea,
you are hot with wine as on distant hilltops
you bind Bistonian [Thracian] women’s hair
with a knot of vipers that do not harm them.

And when the rebellious army of giants
tried to climb the heights to the Father’s kingdom,
you were the one who threw back Rhoetus
and his terrible lion’s claws and teeth;

Although you were said to be more suitable
for dances and fun and games and were labeled
unfit for a battle, yet you took
your part in war as well as in peacetime.

You were graced with golden horn when Cerberus
saw you: he was harmless, and softly wagged his
tail, and as you were leaving, he licked
your legs and feet with all three of his tongues.

(Translation by Joseph P. Clancy, University of Chicago Press, 1960)

Disclaimers:Descriptions of the gods’ appearances are purely a record of how I personally see them. Gods are shapeshifters that can appear however they wish, and will be perceived differently by different people. My own perceptions of them may or may not match ancient artwork.
Correspondences listed are mostly modern.
Festival dates are based on the Attic calendar.
Offerings listed are all specific to the deity in addition to standard ones.
Translations of hymns are from Theoi unless otherwise specified.
Sources: 
THEOI GREEK MYTHOLOGYneosalexandriaHellenicGods.orgκοράκι/crow’s grimoire

adri-le-chat:

honestly even if you are a “stereotypical” worshipper of a god, you’re still doing great. You’re a Dionysian that likes to get drunk? Good, just be safe! You’re a chaotic bisexual Apollonian? That’s okay! You’re an Ace or lesbian Artemisian who wants to chill in the woods? That’s okay! You’re doing great! You’re an Aphrodite worshipper who’s really into pink, self love, and sea aesthetics? You’re doing lovely!

Your worship isn’t lesser even if it’s what people expect. Your relationship can still be deep and interpersonal. You’re doing amazing — don’t doubt yourself.

Hi! Welcome to my blog. This is where I’ll be recording some things for my grimoire as well as where I’ll be posting my experiences as a witch!

Please call me Lady Giovanni! Or Lady for short. You can also call me Vanni. I’m 17 and bisexual genderfluid (I mostly shift between femme and enby though)

I am a broom closeted eclectic chaos witch who dabbles in divination and energy work. I use tarot cards and my pendulum as well as do a bit of astrology work as my main divination methods. I don’t do a lot of spellwork unless it’s the necessities like protective charms or warding. I also most notably have a crystal addiction; not something to be happy about but hey, shiny.

I also do deitywork! I work with a pretty large number of deities, but nowadays I’ve been focusing my worship on Apollo (I asked my other deities and guides for their consent on the matter and they said it was okay since I like, desperately need to heal from some traumatic shit)


The deities and guides I work with are:

  • Apollo
  • Loki
  • Dionysus
  • Eros
  • Hermes
  • Ares
  • Hypnos
  • Zeus
  • Freyja
  • Psyche
  • Aphrodite
  • Lucifer
  • Asmodeus
  • Lifa (my spirit animal/ animal guide)


I know, I work with a lot of guides. Not like I mind much though.


I’ve been a hellenic polytheist since 10th grade and Asatrui since about 8th grade but has dabbled in demonolatry a bit earlier on (Lucifer can vouch for that with my numerous attempts at summoning him at like, age 10)

So like, yeah. Follow me if you want to hear about the countless shenanigans that is my spiritual journey.

A night with the Guides and the joys of having a sister who doesn’t mind witchcraft

In layman’s terms, last night was wild. I share a room with my sister and the vibes have just been super off recently, and I decided I finally wanted to try smoke cleansing (I usually use sound cleansing for the energy in my room.) So I stole bay leaves from my kitchen (we don’t have sage) and my sister and I tried to burn them without nearly burning the house down.

Note:nearly. It’s April fool’s, I work with three trickster gods and quite literally the best friends trio of the Olympian gods. So you know shit was wild.

To start off, my sister and I were trying to light the bay leaves on fire inside this small candle since we didn’t have anywhere to burn it (I’m broom closeted and my sister is the only one who knows and is accepting of it.)

However we just couldn’t get it to stay on fire. And during one of our attempts, my sister dropped a lit match on our wooden floor and she and I lost it.

We blew it out and we were both shaking, not in fear, but at the fact we quite literally were the dumbest bitches alive and nearly burned our house down trying to light bay leaves.

Apollo and Dionysus were there watching us the entire time and were just laughing at our dumbassery. Hermes joined in soon after and the trio were watching us like we were some sitcom. Loki was there too, as he usually is when things nearly go horribly wrong.

Apparently it was part of their April Fool’s joke. Like, there was no burn mark on the floor at all and was no evidence of it happening. No soot, black spot, no nothing. A lit match was dropped on directly exposed wood and there wasn’t even an ember forming. Mind you, the fire on the match was like, big enough to reach halfway down the matchstick.

It was a disaster I swear.

Soon enough, we finally got the bay fire going and it was relaxing. The overall vibe was just really nice and warm, the lights were off and the room was lit up by two candles: one where the bay leaves were burning and another I have for Apollo.

And I decided that since he and the rest of the trio were here, I wanted to play some music. I played Yellow by Coldplay (I consider it to be a song that binds me to Apollo, since the first time I fully felt his presence as a whole was when I invited him to listen to this song with me) as well as some Big Time Rush (I read somewhere he liked BTR so I asked him if he wanted me to play it and his little candle was just going wild so I did.)

Cute anecdote: The fire of Apollo’s candle would flicker in beat to the songs and I thought that was the cutest thing (especially to Boyfriend.)

I sang along to some of the songs and it would flicker as if singing with me. It also happened when I played the Phantom Of The Opera theme for Dionysus, who used the candle we were burning the bay leaves in as his temporary candle. It was really cute.

It was also the first time my sister fully acknowledged the presence of my gods. Both of us are some form of clairvoyant (both of us are very sensitive to energy and in turn, we can see visuals in our head brought about by the energy as if pinpointing certain things like where my deities were sitting in the room; if that makes sense? It’s a bit difficult to explain and put into words and I’m not sure if anyone experiences the same thing, but I initially thought I was crazy until my sister pointed them out too. Then we sorta like, tested each other on it and it worked so far.)

She experienced sitting next to Hermes, feeling his energy directly, she saw Freyja, Lucifer, Apollo, and even felt Aphrodite hold her hand. She told me she’s never experienced something like this before, and I told her that stuff like this just happens at times.

A lot of other wild shenanigans happened last night. Like my sister meeting my deities and guides, feeling their presence, and even witnessing me getting pranked for April Fool’s.

Womenly things; it’s my red week and apparently it was the perfect opportunity for a prank, so some of my gods thought it would be funny to not tell me that I started bleeding through. Loki and Hermes fucking lost it and I was just dying last night. Freyja and Aphrodite were trying to get me to change, etc. Wild night.

I was even visited by an unexpected newcomer in the form of Zeus, who I hadn’t made contact with properly at all. I was doing shadow work earlier on that day with Apollo and apparently Zeus was listening in, I asked Apollo to make sure after witnessing the tree outside my window going batshit crazy because of the wind.

And apparently he wants to work with me too, as I clarified with him earlier today.

Overall, last night was just so positive and warm. I experienced so many surreal encounters with my gods and guides, who were all present with me. Heck, even Asmodeus made an appearance, and I barely interact with him.

I witnessed a lot of stuff too, like Eros and Psyche being lovey dovey, Lucifer being standoffish when I mentioned possibly working with Hades, and even Loki just being outright weird. Ares even went dad mode when he went downstairs with me so I could change since he knew I’m like, a major coward and that I’d be too scared to go alone.

Heck, my sister and I finally got around to locking our numerous mirrors. I showed her how to do it, and I wanted to cry in being a proud sister while watching her figure out how to draw the sigil right.

Also, Apollo hugs and cuddles. Very nice.

I can’t forget what happened later that night though. Everything was going really well until I spotted Apollo’s candle flickering. It usually wasn’t an odd occurrence, but it was like it was trying to get my attention. Apollo’s presence and energy changed a bit, going from warm and amused to something a bit more protective. I then felt something coming from outside the door, like an odd energy. We just cleansed the room, so a lot of lingering entities/energies were kicked out and apparently it was one of them (according to Apollo anyway) and he told us not to go near the door or leave the room anymore.

I could feel a bit of tension coming from some of my gods and guides, such as Ares, Lucifer, and Freyja who were the closest to the door. Even Zeus’s energy seemed a bit tense. My intuition was telling me they were watching it in case something happens, so it began to worry me.

Apollo told me to sleep then, and I in turn asked him if I could put out the candles. However, after my inquiries, he told me that I really couldn’t. I was worried, seeing as it was a literal fire hazard, but I trusted him and the rest of my gods to keep me safe. I am not sure what it meant to keep the candles on or what would happen if I put it out then, but I let them stay on. I couldn’t sleep easily at first, seeing as I didn’t want my house to burn down, but after Apollo’s and Hermes’s coercion, I ended up falling asleep.

Another cute anecdote: holding hands with Apollo is my new favorite thing. Like, he’s such a dad, like I even call him Pater or Papa. He’s just really warm, both in personality and his energy. Hermes too. The two were just looking after me and calming me down so I could sleep already.

I felt safe, with all of my guides being there looking after me.

I woke up pretty abruptly a few hours after, the sun was rising and the energy of the room had changed. I put the candles out, seeing as the odd energy I felt outside the door a few hours prior was gone. I was still sleepy then, and I ended up falling asleep again directly after. I still felt Hermes’s and Apollo’s energy then, and it was just really surreal.

I really love my gods and guides. I really do. I’ve always known it, I know they know it, and now even my sister understands why I confide in them.

In conclusion; burning bay leaves with my guides on April Fool’s night is a totally fantastic and safe bonding experience. Well, if you don’t count dropping a lit match or dealing with a possible energy vampire. Would totally recommend, but be sure to have a fire extinguisher on hand just in case.

Hi guys! Would anyone be interested in me doing a witchy podcast? I plan on discussing general witchy topics as well as other specific topics, such as shadow work, deity work, divination, etc.

On this note, how about a tiktok account focusing on witchcraft? I don’t know how to feel about the baby witch and fake witch stuff I find on my fyp, so I was wondering if you all wanted to see witchtok content from me!

Do let me know how you feel about it!

The Loki Arson chronicles part II

Me and my sister, burning sigils: hopefully we don’t nearly burn the house down this time

Small fire: skrrt skrrt onto the wooden floor I go *pieces of flaming paper proceeds to fall onto floor*

My sister, sitting back in silence: I accept my fate.

Me, panicking while patting the fires out barehanded: FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK–

Loki, in the corner: Let’s gather ‘round the campfire and sing our campfire song–


In the background:

Dionysus:*wheezing*

Hermes:*snickering*

Apollo: *trying not to laugh*

Me, hands covered in ash: Wow gee, thanks guys

—–

What really kills me was that the fire had time to burn marks into our floor but there were none. Not one.

Like,, this happened last time when I was smoke cleansing too–

Heck I put two hand-sized fires out barehanded and I don’t even have a single burn and I just

Loki just likes fire, and messing with me. He likes messing with me using fire. Particularly whenever I have to burn shit through messing with the fire. I still love him though.

Anyways, don’t be like us kids. Be safe. Practice not being a walking fire hazard and please don’t burn sigils inside your house. Thank you.

Lenaia, Maenads, & Thracian Tattoos

As some of you know, I celebrated Lenaia this past weekend, and part of that celebration was henna tattooing some maenad tattoos on myself as a devotional act to Dionysos. The process was both very easy and very difficult.

So, first, we do know maenads had tattoos–especially those known as Thracian. We see it in art of the time; we have pottery showing tattooed Thracians killing Orpheus, and in Dionysian ecstasy.

Step one went great! We know of tattoos!

Step two was to select and pick a design. Which is much harder.

See, the maenads with tattoos in pottery often followed a theme, but two depictions showed exactly the same design. Snakes, and animals in general, were common. So was the sun sign, interestingly. Sometimes, though, there were just arrow shapes going down arms, or checked patterns on forearms and legs. This could certainly just be an artistic choice, making figuring out the design even more difficult.

Finally, I picked my design. It was modeled off the two depictions below (with what I replicated is in pink); One snake, two suns on the ankles, one sun on my arm.

The first thing I realized was that this would be MUCH easier with the help of a friend.

The second thing I realized was, wow, I want to be a devotee of Dionysos.

And finally, henna is excellent, and I should do this for every holiday. (I already try to, but I often forget).

So, my results:

So, there it is! It was a little wonky, because I was hand doing henna on my own body, but I’m proud of the work, and now I kind of want these as real tattoos some day

adri-le-chat:

image

My list of devotional acts 

  • Exploring the woods, the orchards, the vineyards…
  • Caring for the lands, the trees, and the vegetation 
  • Support nature overall - try to work with others, especially indigenous groups for sustainability. 
  • Grow his other sacred plants - such as ivy. Maintain a garden in general.
  • Studying wine and viticulture, especially the wine cycle.
  • Crafting bindweed wreaths and lacing them in the trees
  • Supporting local beekeepers, and helping the insect flourish. Buy some honey to, it makes an excellent offering.
  • Partaking in viticulture and watching the vines grow
  • Collect fruits within orchards 
  • Within the woods, observe - discover and learn about the wilderness of nature.
  • Collect pinecones 
  • Weave baskets - for Dionysus within epithets is shown to have those be sacred to him (Dionysos Kistophoros)
  • Help and donate to big-cat conservation centres 
  • Bare an ivy crown upon your head
  • Craft a Thyrsus - and carry the staff around.
  • Research and explore his worship in antiquity - there are many facets to his worship, after all. And take note of his festivals.
  • Create drinking cups, or paint your own, and preferably add amethyst into them.
  • Wear amethyst - whether that’s necklaces, pendants, etc.
  • Dance, let loose, even if it’s terrible. Simply have fun.
  • Wear masks. And in my opinion, for the modern day, venetian masks do best.
  • Gather clay, or whatever material, and make yourself a mask.
  • Theatre, express your deepest emotions, or possibly become another - He is the god of theatre, after all. 
  • Watch old theatrical performances, indulge in musical theatre. Study the plays from long ago, in Ancient Greece.
  • Adore and learn to quote the Bacchae, and study the play extensively.
  • Go to parties. Have fun — most of all though, be safe.
  • Partake in banquets, have a cup of wine — if it’s legal — if not, opt for grape juice; and enjoy company with others. 
  • Go to Pride and have some fun.
  • Support those that are recovering from addiction, especially alcoholism. 
  • Donate to a centre that helps addicts. Support mental health.
  • Do self-care, work to liberate yourself from harmful things — it’ll all be okay in the end.

Aesthetic Image from: https://aly-naith.tumblr.com

Update on the altars!

Cleaned and ready for the new month! ✨

Once I finish my recent set of Theoi drawings I’ll print them and put instead of the pics I have now. So they all will be in one style and size ⭐

The chthonic altar is on the other side of the table:

anorsel:

❝ dear Dionysus, son of Semele, see the smoke drenched stars? sing with me tonight.

Dionysus — greek mythology aesthetic.

serpent-among-vines:

My Lord’s statue finally arrived! I’m absolutely over the moon with how beautiful it is! And now with it here, Dionysus’s altar is officially finished ✨ I hope the space I created pleases him

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