I think I’ve had a breakthrough of sorts.
So as you know I’ve been struggling to figure out what I should do since stepping down as archiboukolos, especially since everything I’ve attempted to do has met with increasingly improbable obstacles up to and including having my leg busted and the roof spring a leak when I’ve tried to set up a shrine.
A couple days ago (not really sure when, so I’m just going to say Monday since that’s when all of that cool astronomical shit happened, including the Erigone asteroid obscuring the star Regulus here in New York which, despite the crazy Christian spin put on it I think is actually somehow significant, if only on a personal level – but it’s equally possible it happened on Friday, because Chronos and I aren’t exactly on intimate speaking terms) I had a dream in which Dionysos visited me. It was really low-key; he just sat down and started telling me stories, and then I woke up. I tried to remember the individual stories he told, in case there was something significant buried in them, but they all became a blur shortly after regaining consciousness. I felt instantly better, lighter, as if something had been restored to me and when I got up I discovered that I’d regained a great deal of mobility with my leg. I was totally buzzing from this, but part of me was like, “Damn, Dionysos I appreciate the story-time, I really do, but you couldn’t have given me a hint about what my next role is supposed to be? Do I really have to figure all of this out on my own?”
A couple hours later, while I was in the shower it hit me upside the head like a ton of bricks.
He had told me what he wanted of me. It’s what he’s always wanted of me. Through all the constant transformations I’ve undergone these twenty and more years there have been two constants.
My focus is always on him, and I tell stories.
I’ve noted the first before, and obviously I’ve been aware of the importance of the second (especially the power of Story to overwrite reality) but as I stood there letting the steaming water pour down my face I got how deeply intertwined the two are with such force that it sent me into an altered state. And I realized that is how I needed to use my storytelling. I got a bunch of other stuff, including concepts and practices and how it would all look implemented, but I’m not going to unpack that here in public. A good magician never reveals all of his tricks.
When I came back to myself I was surprised there was still hot water – it felt like I’d been standing there for hours, but as I reoriented myself I realized it had probably been more like minutes.
I hobbled out of the shower, explained to Galina as best I could what had happened, and reached for the towel I’d stashed on the counter with the change of clothes I’d brought up with me. A brown leather thong tumbled out of it. I held it up and asked if she’d put it on my towel for some reason as I hadn’t noticed it before. She was confused at first until she noticed I was holding a string not an undergarment and then said she had no idea how it got there.
I smiled into the mirror.
No one has ever accused Dionysos of being a subtle god.
What was it Vergil said in the Aeneid?
Oh yeah.
But she sees
her lord Latinus resolute, her words
an effort vain; and through her body spreads
the Fury’s deeply venomed viper-sting.
Then, woe-begone, by dark dreams goaded on,
she wanders aimless, fevered and unstrung
along the public ways; as oft one sees
beneath the twisted whips a leaping top
sped in long spirals through a palace-close
by lads at play: obedient to the thong,
it weaves wide circles in the gaping view
of its small masters, who admiring see
the whirling boxwood made a living thing
under their lash. So fast and far she roved
from town to town among the clansmen wild.
Then to the wood she ran, feigning to feel
the madness Bacchus loves.
Tagged: dionysos, erigone, spider
