Bronze mask of Silenus
first through second centuries C.E.
National Museum of Afghanistan
Apollo and Dionysus shake hands in their shared sanctuary of Delphi
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you bring forth a son who shall not die, and you I will call immortal. Happy woman! you have conceived a son who will make mortals forget their troubles, you shall bring forth joy for gods and men.
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And born in majesty;
Yet hath he mirth
In the joy of the Earth,
And he loveth constantly
Her who brings increase,
The Feeder of Children, Peace.
Cupid and Psyche by Annie Swynnerton (1890)
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You did not know me when you should have.
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O Thebes! garland yourself
in all the green there is —
ivy green,
olive green,
fennel green,
growing green,
yearning green,
wet sap green,
new grape green,
green of youth and green of branches,
green of mint and green of marsh grass,
green of tea leaves, oak and pine,
green of washed needles and early rain,
green of weeds and green of oceans,
green of bottles, ferns and apples,
green of dawn-soaked dew and slender green of roots,
green fresh out of pools,
green slipped under fools,
green of the green fuse,
green of the honeyed muse,
green of the rough caress of ritual,
green undaunted by reason or delirium,
green of jealous joy,
green of the secret holy violence of the thyrsos,
green of the sacred iridescence of the dancе —
and let all the land of Thebes dance!
with Dionysos leading,
to the mountains!
to the mountains!
where the mob of women waits!
They’ve forsaken their shuttles,
they’ve left their looms,
they’ve dropped their aprons
and taken up their stations
on Dionysos’ mountain!
Next came Dionysus, the son of the virgin,
bringing the counterpart to bread: wine
and the blessings of life's flowing juices.
His blood, the blood of the grape,
lightens the burden of our mortal misery.
Though himself a God, it is his blood we pour out
to offer thanks to the Gods. And through him, we are blessed.
Demeter and Persephone
Terracotta
Made in Myrina, NW Asia Minor
c. 180 BC
To Autumn
By John Keats
"Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.
Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,
Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.
Where are the songs of spring? Ay, Where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies."
Dress for the job you want, not the job you have...
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Last night I dreamt that I had discovered forearm size moon drop grapes and was picking them off of a tree in Texas in case anyone was wondering what working with Dionysus is like
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This is my miracle cure for a chronic sleep issues and night terrors.
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Isabelle Huppert as Medea
in Jacques Lassalle’s production of Euripides’ homonymous tragedy for the Festival d’Avignon (July 2000). Original photograph by Brigitte Enguerand, for ‘Médée d'Euripide’, January 5-February 10, 2001; Odéon-Théâtre de l'Europe, Paris.
God will unloose me, when I speak the word.
Even now he stands
Close here, and sees all that I suffer.
"Eruption of the Volcano Vesuvius", Johan Christian Claussen Dahl (24 February 1788 – 14 October 1857), Danish-Norwegian
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Edward Francis McCartan (American, 1879-1947)
Nymph and Satyr, 1920.
This town must learn,
even against its will, how much it costs
to scorn a God's mysteries and to be purged.
So shall I vindicate my virgin mother
and reveal myself to mortals as a God,
the son of God.
Born of the Virgin on days of still sunlight, Resurrected and Reborn. Who could be it? He who claims the title of the Son of God. 🤫
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O Dionysus, we feel you near,
stirring like molten lava
under the ravaged earth,
flowing from the wounds of your trees
in tears of sap,
screaming with the rage
of your hunted beasts.
Hail and take pleasure ,O Dionysus, child of Semele with the beautiful looks. There is no way I could have my mind disconnect from you as I put together the beautiful cosmic order of my song.
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Goddess Mokosh with offerings. February 24, 2013, Moscow, Bittsevsky Park, Mokosha Pagan Temple of the Community "Kolyda of Vyatichi"
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"The Flower Girl", Unknown Arist, formerly attributed to William Etty (10 March 1787 – 13 November 1849), English
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Therefore, I shall totally eradicate
The fuel of that enemy,
For this enemy hasn't a mission
Other than injuring me.
