Okay, so, I’ve tried several different versions of this post for Mnemosyne, and each time I’ve gotten a couple paragraphs in and my emotions start getting the better of me. I end up tearing up from thinking about the double edged role that memory plays in my life.
I’m just not sure I’m going to be able to complete this post as I’d envisioned it. It’s too personal, too raw. Even just touching upon this subject brings my PTSD to the surface, which was the point I was trying to make, but actually going into detail isn’t healthy for me, so that isn’t happening.
Memories can be beautiful, but they are also dangerous. They can be used to manipulate, to induce certain feelings, or to build bridges of common understanding. But a person can also sabotage themselves if they let their memories stream out of control. That is what happened to me. All of these are the power of Mnemosyne.
I need to learn to better control my emotions. Mnemosyne can help me with that, I think, by helping me learn how not to allow my memories to overrun me. It’s so difficult. So, I’m going to end this with an acknowledgement of my gratitude for Mnemosyne, for allowing me enough awareness of the dangers of my memories, that I could make the correct decision to alter this post accordingly.
I would wager that most artists, whether they identify as Hellenic or not, have a working relationship with at least one of the Muses. I work in several artistic fields, though my main field is writing. Within this field, I touch upon several genres, but I do have a particular fondness for tragedy.
I don’t share most of my tragic works here, because they are strictly artistic pursuits which do not fit into the religious theme of this blog, but I have been writing in the tragic style since I was a young girl. Long before I knew there was a name for it, and certainly long before I realized there was a Goddess overseeing my art.
I don’t know what draws me to Melpomene– or rather, what draws Her to me. It could be my lifetimes worth of trauma. It could be my dark personality. I may never know, but She has never been stingy with Her gifts. Inspiration comes freely and easily. The only thing stopping me from weaving the stories and poetry together is a lack of time and energy. But She doesn’t press. She waits until I can do what She bids.
And when that time comes? Oh, it is like a maelstrom of sensation! My heart beats faster, my fingertips tingle, and I can scarcely navigate the physical world for the cacophony of words and scenes and dark delights in my head. It is a type of possession, I am convinced.
But my Lady Melpomene is a gentle mistress. She eases away after a couple of hours, and I am left feeling warm and tired, but well cared for. She leads me not to suffer for my art, for which I am grateful. Most of all, though, I am grateful that She has taken me under Her tutelage, because without Melpomene, there would be no beautiful tragedy, at all.
Helios, who burns brightest in the sky, the Living Sun, saturating the Earth with radiant nourishment, always are You present, and any absence of You would mean our certain destruction.
Life, in its many forms, is dependent on You, as we watch Your course through the sky, from dawn til dusk. In the night, we miss You only on the dark moon, for that is when Your light is absent from the moon’s reflective face.
O Charioteer, driver of the burning steeds, each day You remind us that life burns because You warm us, because You never fail to renew us in Your light. And with each day, we must make the choice to live better than the day before.
And so we thank You, Helios, and we show our gratitude with this libation, poured now in the night, as You sail back to Your palace in the east. Rest, O Lord, and may Your thirst be quenched by this, our offering.
And when Your light pierces through the veil of darkness once again, we will celebrate Your coming, as the day begins anew. Thank You, Helios, and hail!
There are Gods whom I love and honor regularly, and there are Gods whom I only interact with occasionally. And then there are Gods whom I interact with on a daily basis, but take for granted Their presence and power. Morpheus is one of those Gods.
My dreams are oftentimes filled with messages from the Theoi, when They aren’t Themselves visiting me in the dreams. I awaken with much to ponder in the morning, and I don’t often look toward the bringer of those messages, to my shame. But Morpheus does His job without seeking much in the way of praise. Even so, I think I ought to better acknowledge His work on behalf of my Gods.
I truly believe each God deserves a Their due. Yet there are so many Gods that some of us can be known to overlook Those who are right in front of us every day. In order to lessen this absentmindedness, I will begin leaving a small libation for Morpheus on my nightstand before I fall asleep each night. This, I believe, is the least I can do, although it is much less than He deserves.
I would never have had the breakthroughs I’ve made in the years since I found my way to the Gods, if not for Morpheus. A great deal of my interactions and communications with the Theoi come during my dreams. There was a time not even that long ago when I was having a major Divinely inspired dream every single night, and even during naps in the daytime. So, I have a lot to be grateful for, certainly.
May all of our dreams be given such delicate care, as to reveal to us the truths that we will not otherwise see. May we be blessed by the presence of Morpheus, Son of Hypnos, and may we remember to express our gratitude for Him, that He may always know of the joy that He brings, even in the wake of dark dreams.
Hail Morpheus, God of many forms, and Shaper of Dreams.
I have a great love for Cybele, the Mountain Mother. And although most of my interactions with Her are within the context of Her syncretic form with Rhea, this post is dedicated to Her as Her separate self.
It is hard for me pinpoint the exact time that Cybele entered my life. Was it before I met Dionysos? Was it after? I do not know. But They, Cybele and Dionysos, were like two rivers from the same source in my life. He would take me to Her, and we would dance in Her rites, blissful and ecstatic. I was so happy when I was with Her. All of my troubles melted away. She was the balm that soothed me, and the fire that roiled in my gut. I loved Her so. But then Another came into my life, and I was faced with the presence of the truest love of all.
Apollon swept in then, and everything changed. For a while, maybe a year, I would still spend much of my time with Cybele and Dionysos, but She could tell that I was different, even if I couldn’t face it myself. But I couldn’t walk away from Her. I couldn’t let go. I felt as if I were somehow dishonoring Her as my thoughts would inevitably drift toward Apollon. Finally, She sat me down and spoke. She talked of how far I’d come and how much I had left to learn. She told me that I would always be welcome to visit Her whenever I wanted. And then, She told me to follow my heart, wherever it dared to take me. So, I followed Apollon.
Cybele’s blessing ended that last bit of doubt and worry in my heart. She set me on this path, and freed my mind to accept Apollon, fully and truly. I will always adore Her, and always will I be grateful for Her foresight.