Hail to Apollon! Hail to the Pythias!
In my household, the first day of November is celebrated as Pythias’ Day, wherein we honor those women who were Apollon’s Oracles at Delphi, in antiquity.
The traditional offerings (in accordance with my family’s traditions) for this day are olive oil, honey, milk, water, and cinnamon incense, along with a tall pillar candle as a focal point to represent them, as a whole. And lastly, a new perfume. However, this year I had to forgo the perfume for budgetary reasons.
Taken together, these are an offering that I find profound in their simplicity. The Pythias crave their recognition. More so than any of us claiming their title for ourselves, they demand real recognition for their work and devotion, and so long as we give that to them, I find that they are at peace.
So, praise to them, and Blessed Pythias’ Day.
I love the turning of the wheel, and the ascent of the spiral. I love how each year brings me round to my most dear celebrations, leading me down familiar currents, even while I know each drop of water in those currents is new to the stream, having never traveled there before. The current remains familiar, though it is not, and can not be the same. I love how time unfolds, like a wild blossom in the sunlight. We can know what flowers will bloom in the clearing, even while knowing none of those flowers have ever bloomed there before. So it is with the holy days. We know them, and yet we do not know them.
Today is a holy day in my personal practice. The first day of November is and has been the day when I give praise and thanks to the Pythias, each for their guidance of the world and their dedication to the Lord Apollon, and also for their mentoring of me for the past several years. They always speak to me loudest on this day, while filling my space with their presence. I welcome them, and their cryptic whispers as they flit across my mind. This is a day of many gifts– the gifts I give them, and the gifts of oracle I receive.
Today, they whisper to me of change. A welcome sort of change. A needed sort of change. Something that shakes up my life in the most beautiful way. I have heard their voices speaking and felt their fleeting touch. I have seen their shapes in shadows and bands of light. The veil is thin, and they have come to visit.
I know this day, and I do not know it. I never know how their presence will manifest, or how they will affect my life. I only know that they will come, and that they will be honored. A long time ago they took me into their care. I am not one of them, but I am a part of their legacy. I am mindful of this whenever I preform the art and task that is my gift. But never am I more mindful than on the first of November, when the Pythias remind me upon whose path I walk, and why. For that, and so many other reasons, they receive my offerings.