The Pythia – Serpent Woman of the Gods

Pythia, the Priestess. Photo courtesy of Matt Baldwin-Ives.

The voice of Divine madness is one most cherished, most sought  and also most feared.  In that altered state of consciousness where insanity meets the Divine and the thoughts of the Gods are manifest, in this secret place lies great wisdom. Shamans of old sought it out with vengeance and when found,  brought back the knowledge and shared it with their people.

“I count the grains of sand on the beach and measure the sea
I understand the speech of the mute and hear the voiceless”.

- Delphic Oracle {Herodotus, I, 47}

The Pythia of Delphi, an Oracle of the Gods, was such a woman in whom Divine madness was welcomed. The scholar Martin Litchfield West writes that the Pythia shows many traits of ancient shamanistic practices, likely inherited or influenced from central Asia, although there is no evidence of any central Asian association at this time. (1)

The name ‘Pythia’ is derived from Pytho, which in Greek myth was the original name of Delphi. The Greeks derived this name from the verb, pythein (“to rot”), which refers to the decomposition of the body of the monstrous Python (She-Dragon) after she was slain by Apollo. (2)  Through this decomposition, gases were emitted from the ‘body’ of the slain Serpent. It was this vapour that the Pythia inhaled.

The Priestess would sit in a tripod chair, above a chasm in the Earth. As the hot gases rose, the Oracle would breathe in deeply and hold the fumes within. She would enter a trance and from this altered state, would chant prophesies, guidance and counsel to her querents. From her dark, underground chamber, her voice would echo, in songs and utterances sometimes unintelligible.

Plutarch, a priest at the Delphic Temple, recorded that as the Spirit’s breathed into the Pythia, she would give off a ‘sweet fragrance’, the breath and lust of the Gods. (3)

It was a great honour to be chosen as an Oracle. Typically, the Pythias were chosen from a guild of Temple priestesses. Even if married with maternal concerns, the priestess would leave all familial responsibilities behind. Her earthly family no longer took precedence. The women left the family home and did not return.

Plutarch records that the life span of an Oracle was shortened due to the exhaustive nature of housing the Gods. After each prophetic session, the Pythia would be feverish, flushed and weak. Due to the strain and untimely deaths of many of the Oracles, it became necessary to alternate them. Typically, there were three Oracles at any one time, with 2 alternating as Prophetess and one on reserve, in case of their deaths. (4)

In order to speak like a God, one must become like a God. Our mortal body, our ego, must be shoved aside. There is no room for self-doubt or humanistic limitations. We empty ourselves of our flawed humanity and become vessels for the Divine. We become the Chosen One, a mouthpiece for Deity.

People of our modern time lack the individual sacrifice and obsession for the Divine that many of our Ancients had. Perhaps that why the Gods sometime seem so silent. I believe it is not They who will not speak, but we who will not hear. To regain our lost selves, to find that God-like place within, we must die to self, we must empty our hearts and minds and partake of Death. We must become vessels. We must be empty to be filled. Let us all become Oracles.

References:

(1) West, Litchfield Martin. The Orphic Poems, p.147. “The Pythia resembles a shamaness at least to the extent that she communicates with her [deity] while in a state of trance, and conveys as much to those present by uttering unintelligible words. [cf. Spirit Language, Mircea Eliade]. It is particularly striking that she sits on a cauldron supported by a tripod, reiterating the triad of the great goddess. This eccentric perch can hardly be explained except as a symbolic boiling, and, as such, it looks very much like a reminiscence of the initiatory boiling of the shaman translated from hallucinatory experience into concrete visual terms. It was in this same cauldron, probably, that the Titans boiled Dionysus in the version of the story known to Callimachus and Euphorion, and his remains were interred close by”.

(2) Homeric Hymn to Apollo. 363-369.

(3) Plutarch. On the Decline of the Oracles (De Defectu Oraculorum) and On the Oracles of Pythia (De Pythiae Oraculis) in Moralia, Volume 5, Harvard University Press.

(4) Dashu, Max. The Pythias, Secret History of the Witches. 2009.

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Where is Our Dance?

In our star-lit pagan past,
Fire lit dancers raised the Power
Gyrating to the beat of the Eternal Drum

The young world crackled and hissed with the Heat of the Wise.

Now, we sit as heavy stone.
Cold, incarcerated with tired eyes
Staring at endless screens, which tell us endless lies.

Where is our Dance?
Where are our Wise?

Plant Spirit Communication – Foundations of Primitive Witchcraft – Essay 2

In the darkest recesses of our ancient imagination, where the collective unconscious of ages past rests on our minds like a heavy blanket;  in this deep, dark place, shrouded in mystery, if we allow ourselves , we can become as we once were.

We can regain our lost heritage, history, wisdom and wholeness. When the Earth was young and the Divine Feminine held sway; in this place, the Earth spoke. We were wiser then, and silent, moving in honour and showing reverence.

Here, in our primordial past, the plants would speak to us. We were made whole by their presence and with their medicine, we were healed. They were our green saints; giving audience to our petitions, offering relief, regeneration and direction.

Now, we watch TV. We play video games or spend endless hours on the internet. We rarely even sit outside, or take the time to notice the flora that surrounds us. All more the pity, for it’s in this consecrated place,  outside our front door, that the Spirits of the plants would still speak to us with shadowed, whispered movement and delicate breath. They wait.

This is plant Spirit communication. This is knowledge gained, wisdom shared and the cycle of life continuing, one species bestowing gifts upon another, in an endless parade of sharing, taking, sharing, taking. How glorious it all was and how far we have wandered from this shaman’s Paradise.

It is not too poetic to state that my life has been radically influenced by plants. I have been blessed with a tradition that honours them and was trained from a young age to be respectful of them. How thankful I am for this training, for this appreciation. The greatest gift my dad ever gave me was the gift of Spirit awareness,  listening, ever listening, to the multitude that surround us.

Each plant has a special Spirit within; a personality, a characteristic, a method of co-existing with the world around it. Just like humans, they have their likes and dislikes; their preferences and predilections.  Some love the water, keeping their toes forever in the moist earth and wilting almost instantaneously when that moisture isn’t available. Some crave the heat of the Brother, the hotter and more focused His rays and light, the better. Some are nocturnal, putting out scents and shows for the waxing or waning  Sister and those of us who prefer  the Dark.

Just like our human friends,  plant Spirit communication is built over time, as a relationship. It doesn’t happen overnight. The plants have come to mistrust us and rightfully so. We take and take, greedily breaking the cycle of giving and sharing. We use and take from the Earth Mother without regard. Because of this, the Spirits of all the plants from the grandest trees to the tiniest wildflower are now ill-at-ease and introverted. It will take patience to mend this chasm. It will take dedication and diligence. It will take discipline and a walking away from the things of this modern world to step back into the past.  Are you up for it?

What sets dedicated farmers and gardeners apart from plant shamans, witches and medicine men is that of SPIRIT.  Most people can grow a plant. Most people can harvest a good supply of whatever seed is sown. The Mother is good to us like that. But where we miss the trick and where we lose the thread, is ignoring the Spirit inherent in the plant; that invisible, intangible Force that permeates each growing thing.  To really learn, to really be healed in Spirit and body, one must make contact with this Force. In times past, one learned this from an elder of the tribe or the village wise woman. Now, unfortunately, in most cases, we must educate ourselves.

The easiest way to do this to get acquainted. Just like dating, just like that tender beginning of human relationships, building plant Spirit communication is no different.  Choose one plant that you feel drawn to, either because of scent or appearance; attraction is key.  Start with one. Learn its name. Just like dating, you can’t get to know someone without knowing their name. Learn the common and Latin botanical name.  Learn its habitat (where it lives).  Take time to research what it likes: dampness, dryness, heat, or cool shade. Take time, every day if possible, to touch it, speak to it, sit in silence next to it.  Mentally ‘connect’ with the Life Force of the plant.

Silence is key to all paths of true shamanistic wisdom. Close your mouth and open your heart. Lean into it and listen. Listen. Listen. Calming of your own inner chatter and restless mind is part of the training. All Spirit communication, no matter what form it takes, will always start the same: in silence.

You will find as you practice this, as you start to learn various plants and recognize them by their auras and faces, as you take time to listen, and sit in solitude with them, that just like your human friends, they will start to trust you and open up to you. They will share their lives and their ancient memories with you. You will become initiated into the great brotherhood of plant and root doctors who for eons have healed and been healed and have been transformed.  The primal path can begin anew, with you, today.

Go outside.

 

Image courtesy of www.lunafina.com

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