I talk to Dionysos in those moments of chaos where I lose myself completely.
When I have no grip on my physical self
He is there to speak to me.
He speaks of how I am loved by the universe.
He tells me how to show my love back to the universe.
He assists in my madness of my own mind
To translate it back to the order of the body
Greek Mythology: Dionysus
Dionysus is the god of the grape harvest, winemaking and wine, of ritual madness, fertility, theatre and religious ecstasy in Greek mythology. Alcohol, especially wine, played an important role in Greek culture with Dionysus being an important reason for this life style. (x)
T E E N A G E G I R L S + M Y T H O L O G Y: Dionysus
She keeps a hip flask under her skirt, the metal cool against warm skin. There’s something excitable in her voice, tainted with a hint of madness, especially when talking about this evening’s plans (she gets invited to all of the parties, naturally). Her fingers drum against desk tops, nail varnished chipped. Everyone knows what she does in the bathroom stalls and around the back of the bike sheds where the CCTV doesn’t quite reach. Hers is a life full of fun and risk, fearless chaos that consumes everyone around her like a black hole.
Wild West Theoi - Dionysos, The Bullrider.
No one else like him on the circuit, no one as wily on the back of a bull. Heard told he rode the rankest bull this side of the river, big ole white thing name of Zaggy. Rides hard and parties harder and he ain’t exactly lacking in company, gents or ladies. With that smile he says, “Eight seconds feels like an eternity.”
Titles of Dionysos
Hear me, Zeus’ son, blest Bakkhos, God of wine, born of two mothers, honoured and divine; Lysios Euios Bakkhos, various-named, of gods the offspring, secret, holy, famed. Fertile and nourishing, whose liberal care augments the fruit that banishes despair. Sounding, magnanimous, Lenaios power, of various-formed, medicinal, holy flower: mortals in thee repose from labour find, delightful charm, desired by all mankind. Fair-haired Euion, Bromios, joyful God, Lysios, insanely raging with the leafy rod. To these our rites, benignant power, incline, when favouring men, or when on Gods you shine; be present to thy mystics’ suppliant prayer, rejoicing come, and fruits abundant bear.“
udvs:
YOU WERE BORN TWICE. your beautiful mother destroyed by jealous hera, your father taking you from her ashes and sewing you into his thigh so that you will be born. fates be damned, you will be born. and you are.
you’re born cut from your father’s thigh and dropped into the arms of the forest, left to survive until your time came. zeus did not have other children that were quite like you, but you were not the only nameless god in that arena. you were the only one not prepared for the destruction of it, however.
hera placed a cursed on all of you. whoever survived, became madness and revelry and more titles that nearly knocked you down with the heaviness of them. they place a necklace of rope around your neck, and you know with every fiber of your mad heart that you will not ever be the boy raised by nymphs.
when it begins, you feel as if you’re a ghost, an unseen boy among muscled men fighting not only each other, but the bulls, the snakes, the vines, the grapes, the pools of wine. you become something horribly OTHER, and when a bull with gold horns runs at you, he stops with his temple pressed against your waiting palm.
your hand cradles his head, runs over his gold dipped horns, and this bull joins you in this ghost world. you are small enough to fit between one of his horns and his head, and the wonder within you might as well be a third exhale between you and this bull.
you wonder at how none of these men have become ghosts. you see them with knives, swords, shields, and something within you already knows that this madness, this title of whatever you are to be, is already yours. you can feel it in your blood, as gold as the bull holding you with his horns, can feel it in the way that the fighters steer away from you. because they know. because they know that now, it is only if they can survive your godhood.
the gods say you had the easiest victory. they couldn’t understand how you did it, how you stopped the bulls and snakes and madness from killing you. you always smile ( and your smile is now indeed chilling. godhood looks good on you. ) and tell them that you’re always dying. you are the dying and rising god, you are madness, you are a ghost.
