***For some odd reason, this one was queued vs. showing in my posts from last week, no idea why. So, re-posting the right way***I can see why the mythically (or real) Maenads of olde would’ve LOVED a good rave in these times. It was through dance that they found themselves, found that higher state of being. It was through EXCESS that they became physically mad, psychotic, enraged with the need to service that which they considered ‘the divine’.
What could or couldn’t be divine? What’s right or what’s wrong, about the methods and choices other Pagans use in order to worship their patron Goddess or God? What is the necessity of following rules and guidelines, in order to perform magic ‘correctly?’
Magic isn’t about right or wrong, ceremony or decadence, what color you wore or how you interpret the words written in parchment.
A movie called Stigmata struck me with words that may or may not be true – but have always FELT true when it comes to my thoughts about the Divine Presence, whether male or female (it just happens to be female to me). This movie had a lost text of the bible, that started with the following:
Jesus said the kingdom of God is in you and all about you not in a building of stone and wood Split a timber and I am there look under a stone and you will find me?
When I heard those words the first time, they struck me hard – actually made me cry. At the time, I was still a non-practising Episcopalian. Now? I’m very much making my moves, and theological study and religious beliefs about Isis worship — it just simply makes sense, and feels right to me. It’s what was always there, for a very long time; I truly feel that I have simply reconnected with what was always there.
Egyptian Paganism & the Hellenic traditions have been in my heart since I was in elementary school. My borderline obsession with reading books about the old Dynasties of Egypt and the myths of old Rome & Greece, now comes full circle as I realize I was simply searching for something that reminded me of “me.” It simply, without fail, made sense to me. It wasn’t about dog-headed and bird-headed gods and goddesses, it was only about the one, she who had always been there. And there are a lot of people who feel offended by the fact that I don’t see ‘her’ as a HE, and vice-versa, that I don’t worship the others as patron Gods and Goddesses, also.
What I’ve learned is that the only person that you can satisfy when it comes to your personal theology, YOUR beliefs, is You. It’s what makes *your* heart beat, what makes your pulse quicken, what floods your dreamscape. And what’s unfortunate as that the human race has not learned after all these millenia and years to respect each other’s beliefs and principles, as they are all simply based on one – doing to others as you would have done to yourself.
I’ve begun looking into the story of Skopas, whose statue stands today as the simple of passion for one’s god/goddess, a symbol of Bacchic ‘frenzy’ or devotion, furor even, for their God. The Maenads’ mark on history most certainly may be gone but not forgotten. They are a part of Hellenic tradition & Greek mythos that still inspires me to this day – the part I most identify with. Excess has nearly killed me many a time; you’d think I’d learn. But that was the excess of the chemical, the material. The Excess of Passion – it’s an emotion and action I’ve never found myself quite able to let fully go of. My great passion for the things I do, and how I do them, more often offends others and gets me in trouble. But my great passion is what sets me apart – being fearless by being possessed by a nearly orgiastic ‘passion’ may be considered dangerous by some, but boundary-pushing by others. Me included. So as I start to study these things, I try to remember that it’s ok to express here the feelings inspired by being struck damn near dumb and stupified by the Divine. She called me home, I went. And regardless of where that takes me, I can tell you for a fact that the magic of she has led me nowhere that I can suffer harm throughout this new year of my worshipping her. My senses, and my instincts are so razor sharp now, that I doubt myself no more. I follow my heart without fear this time, and if that’s madness – so mote it be.