Dionysos is our God

Blessed, blessed are those who know the mysteries of God.

Blessed is he who hallows his life in the worship of God, he whom the spirit of God possesseth, who is one with those who belong to the holy body of God.

Blessed are the dancers and those who are purified, who dance on the hill in the holy dance of God. 

Blessed are they who keep the rite of Kybele the Mother.

Blessed are the thyrsus-bearers, those who wield in their hands the holy wand of God.

Blessed are those who wear the crown of the ivy of God.

Blessed, blessed are they: Dionysos is their God!

Euripedes, Bacchae

Blessed, blessed are we! Dionysos is our God!

Kala Anthesteria, everyone!


In a dark forest grove
Lit by starlight, flick’ring flame,
Decked with ivy, fragrant flowers,
Your worshippers come, laden down
With their sorrows, their worries.
With the weight of the world.

You, O Lord, lift their burdens.

You show first a glimpse,
Then so much more – rushing,
Swirling, another vision, souls enraptured,
As you draw forth from our lips
Wave upon roaring wave
Of brilliant, rolling laughter.

So hail to you, O Lysios!
Praise, O Lord of Laughter!

Mostly Dionysos

A votive inscription that just utterly delights me. It’s cited by H.S. Versnel in his book, Coping with the Gods (pp. 504-5):

We pray to all the Gods, but mostly to Dionysos.
πρὸς πάντας τοὺς θεοὺς μάλιστα δὲ πρὸς τὸν Διόνυσον.

A Prayer for Aretē

O bright and holy Gods
Who are the source and fountain of all that is good,
Who fill the cosmos with your blessings,
I come to you in my need.

O providential Gods, mighty saviors,
Who know all things throughout the whole world,
Who care for all mortal creatures,
I entrust my cares to you.

Brilliant Apollon of the golden lyre,
Whose gifts bring balance, poise, harmony,
Set each part of my soul, my life, in due order.
In all things, grant perfect, proper measure.

Lord Dionysos, ever-future king,
Captivated by the mirror, torn apart yet reborn entire,
Direct my gaze toward what is good.
Bring me to unity: in my soul, in my life, in my devotion.

Mighty Zeus, father and creator,
Source of all life, ruler of all things,
Uphold and sustain me, in justice, truth, and piety.
Bring me through life’s storms, to your blessed harbor.

All you holy Gods whom I adore,
Who fill every cosmos – large and small – with your gifts,
Perfect my soul. Bring me to aretē.
I come to you in trust, and in supplication.

Some Notes on Grief, Magic, and Animism

A few days ago, I had the opportunity to attend two talks given by David Abram, author of The Spell of the Sensuous and Becoming Animal. His work on animism has inspired and provoked me for more than half a decade, so it was a delight to finally meet him and have the chance to converse.

A Dionysian Connection

At one point, the conversation came around to grief—specifically, grief over the ongoing wave of mass extinctions and destruction of the natural world, and strong temptation to pull back, to refuse to engage, simply because of how painful these things can be to face. In response to this, David suggested that grief is a gate, a threshold, that we can pass through to a deeper way of being in relationship.

In other words, whether it’s ecological or more personal, grief is a doorway, not a destination… which brings a whole new flood of meaning to the invocation, “Hail Dionysos, Opener of the Door!”

Magic and Reciprocity

David also suggested a definition of magic: “Magic is the encounter with a style of intelligence different from your own,” and then added: “and that could be your lover.”

If this touches on some deep truth, as it seems to, then it follows that all communication is a magical act. And furthermore, that all communication, and all magic, is a reciprocal act, affecting both parties, having within that act the power to change and transform them both.

Which brings us squarely back to David’s definition of animism: “the instinctive experience of reciprocity between the perceiver and the perceived.”