#pierian

[morphic-mythos]

HYMN TO THE MUSES

Daughters of Mnemosyne and thundering Zeus, glorious, renowned Pierian Muses, greatly-loved, many-formed, source of pure virtue in learning, you feed the soul and guide the mind, setting it on the right path. Queens and mistresses of souls, Kleio, Euterpe, Thalia, Melpomene, Terpsichore, Erato, Polymnia, Urania, Calliope, and great goddess Hagne: you revealed the sacred rituals to humankind. Now come, goddesses, to your worshippers, come bringing glory and love that will be sung in numberless hymns.

—A Year of Pagan Prayer, compiled by Barbara Nolan

[whencyclopedia]

Telesilla of Argos

Telesilla of Argos was a lyric poet of the 5th century BCE, listed by Antipater of Thesalonike (c. 15 BCE) as one of the great Nine Female Lyric Poets of Greece (along with Praxilla, Moiro, Anyte, Sappho, Erinna, Corinna, Nossis, and Myrtis). She was responsible for the metrical innovation of lyric poetry known as the Telesillean Metre. Antipater writes:

These are the divinely tongued women who were reared on the hymns of Helicon and the Pierian Rock of Macedon: Praxilla, Moiro, Anyte the female Homer, Sappho the ornament of the fair-tressed Lesbian women, Erinna, renowned Telesilla, and you, Corinna, who sang of Athena's martial shield, Nossis the maiden-throated, and Myrtis the sweet-voiced, All of them fashioners of the everlasting page. Nine Muses Great Ouranos bore, Nine likewise Gaia, to be a joy undying for mortals (Anthologia Palatina, 9.26).

In her youth, she was continually sickly and so consulted the gods for help in restoring her to health. The answer came from the oracle that she should devote herself to the Muses, and so Telesilla dedicated herself to the study of poetry and music. She soon found herself healed and, additionally, grew in fame as a great lyric poet. Of the considerable body of work she produced, only two lines remain extant as quoted by the ancient grammarian Hephaistion of Alexandria in his Handbook on Meter (c. 96 CE). References to her, however, appear in the works of Pausanius (c. 110-180 CE), Plutarch (45-120 CE), Athenaeus (c. 3rd century CE), and the work Bibliotheca ascribed (wrongly) to Apollodorus of Alexandria (2nd century CE), among others. She was an extremely influential artist who is always cited with respect by other ancient authors, no matter the subject.

Telesilla & the Salvation of Argos

While she was famous during her life for her poetry, she was equally respected by later writers for driving the Spartan forces from her home city of Argos in 494/493 BCE. Telesilla seems to have been at her work as a poet when the hostilities began. The Spartan king Cleomenes I consulted the Oracle of Apollo on what would happen if he marched on Argos, and he was assured that he would capture it. He was met on the field by the Argives at Sepeia and, through trickery, took the troops by surprise, slaughtered many, and chased the survivors from the field. These Argive soldiers took refuge in the sacred grove of Argus and claimed sanctuary from the god. Cleomenes questioned his Argive prisoners as to the names of those in hiding and, once he had these names, sent a herald to call them out personally and to guarantee their safety. As each man came out of the sanctuary, Cleomenes had him killed. This went on until one of the men remaining in the sacred grove climbed a tree and saw what was going on outside of the sanctuary. Afterwards, of course, no other Argive answered Cleomenes' call. Since he could not get any more Argives to come out willingly, he set fire to the grove and burned the rest of the men to death. Herodotus reports that, as the flames were rising, he asked one of the Argive deserters to which god the grove was sacred. When the man said it was the grove of Argus, Cleomenes groaned and said, “Apollo, god of prophecy, you seriously misled me when you foretold that I would capture Argos; I think your prediction has now come true” (Histories, VI.80).

Even though it seemed the oracle had meant he would only conquer the sanctuary of Argos, he left the grove and marched on the city. Telesilla heard of what had happened to the men of the army and mobilized the women, youth, and elders of Argos for defense. Plutarch writes:

No action taken by women for the common good is more famous than the conflict against Cleomenes by the Argive women, which they fought at the instigation of the poetess Telesilla. When Cleomenes king of Sparta had killed many Argives (but not, as some have imagined, Seven thousand, seven hundred, and seventy-seven) and marched against the city, an impulsive courage, divinely inspired, impelled the younger women to defend their country against the enemy. With Telesilla as general, they took up arms and made their defense by manning the walls around the city, and the enemy was amazed. They drove Cleomenes off after inflicting many losses. They also repulsed the other Spartan king, Demaratus, who (according to the Argive historian Socrates) managed to get inside and seize the Pamphylacium. After the city was saved, they buried the women who had fallen in battle by the Argive road, and as a memorial to the achievements of the women who were spared they dedicated a temple to Ares Enyalius ... Up to the present day they celebrate the Festival of Impudence (Hybristika) on the anniversary putting the women into men's tunics and cloaks and the men in women's dresses and head-coverings (Moralia 245c-f).

Telesilla's actions were interpreted by other writers as the fulfillment of a prophecy by the oracle, referenced by Herodotus, concerning Argos. Pausanius writes:

Above the Theater there is a temple of Aphrodite and in front of the seated statue of the goddess is a stele engraved with an image of Telesilla the writer of poems. These lie as though thrown down beside her feet and she herself is looking at a helmet which she holds in her hand and is about to put on her head. Telesilla was famous among women for her poetry but still more famous for the following achievement. Her fellow citizens had sustained an indescribable disaster at the hands of the Spartans under Cleomenes son of Anaxandridas. Some had fallen in actual battle and of the others, who took sanctuary in the grove of Argus, some had at first ventured out under a truce, only to be burnt to death when Cleomenes set fire to the grove. By these means Cleomenes, proceeding to Argos, led his Lacedaemonians against a city of women. But Telesilla took all the slaves and all such male citizens who through youth or age had been unable to bear arms, and made them man the walls, and gathering together all the weapons of war that had been left in the houses or were hanging in the temples, armed the younger women and marshalled them at a place she knew the enemy must pass. There, undismayed by the war cry, the women stood their ground and fought with the greatest determination, until the Spartans, reflecting that the slaughter of an army of women would be an equivocal victory, and defeat at their hands would be dishonor as well as disaster, laid down their arms. Now this battle had been foretold by the Pythian Priestess, and Herodotus , whether he understood it or not, quotes the oracle as follows:

When male by female is put to flight And Argos' name with honor is bright Many an Argive wife will show Both cheeks marred with scars of woe.

Such is the part of the oracle which refers to the women.

Continue reading...

[deancasforcutie]

you can lead a horse to water on the path of knowledge about a story's queer and allied writers' room, you can lead a horse into the water of censorship evidence and well-precedented A/V language of queer cinema they used strategically to expose and override censorship, you can splash a horse awake with water of a textual gay love confession that cements a main relationship as romantic forevermore, but you canNOT make the horse drink deep and taste the Pierian spring of the queer text and creative rebellion a textbook example like Supernatural so plainly obviously is to Anyone With A Motherfucking Queer Lens

"I can't believe they didn't know how gay this loo-"

[modernmonsterrp]

Diem gets it - can't seem weak in front of the chum or chum you become, but he has to admit he's a little disappointed. He'd road that bus until he was itching to do something, and the fight had been avoided, and now so had the fun.

But then sweetheart's tone and attitude changed, as if he had just sat up and took notice of something. Maybe his obvious constant state of low-level heat?

It takes all of his willpower not to give up the game and say something like, 'if i say i can't, will you do me right here and now?' Because he had a feeling most non-lust people wouldn't say something like that.

But he can't help the wicked smile or the way his rough voice drops into a purr.

"for you, sweetheart, i have world enough and time."

Maybe while they waited, he could pass the time wooing his alternate's lover.

His name is Diem, as in Carpe Diem, as in sieze the day, as in To Virgins to Make Much of Time, as in - you get the picture.

He's five foot five, with red eyelights and sharp teeth - one missing on his left side. To be honest he doesn't look like much. Just a fell sans, with a permanently summoned red ecto body that you can see the lines of his bones through. Despite being from a lust time line, his clothing preferences aren't really sexy. Shorts, and a baggy tank top that said "Free Sex Toy" on it.

But aside from the clothes, the ecto body, and the lights in his sockets being circles and not flames, he looked exactly like one Pierian of Fell Springs.

Not that he had any idea who that was. No, what the lustfell skeleton didn't know could fill a library, but here's what he did know.

Shortly after they surfaced a bus station appeared near the mountain. Neat trick considering there was only a dirt road going up it. And that bus would take you anywhere.

And anywhere... was better than home right now.

So, one day, when things started to get serious in his timeline, Deim hopped on the bus and got off at a random promising line when he got to antsy to stay on any longer. It was a red line according to the stop information, which didn't bother him any.

After all a fuck or a fight, both made for a pretty good time.

@mischief-rei

[deathlessathanasia]

Another hymn with the idea that Apollo could look into the mind of Zeus

LIMENIUS : PAEAN TO APOLLO

and Echo, who lives among the rocks, cries forth ['Hail Paean, Hail Paean']. And he {Apollo} rejoiced, because he had received into his mind and understood the immortal thoughts of Zeus

I think this also could be inspired by the Homeric hymn though

I do love that it seems to be a well established idea.

Btw, it took me waaay too long to find the full text of Limenios' Paian, so here is a translation (taken from "Music in ancient Greece and Rome" by J. G. Landels) for anyone who, like me, isn't very familiar with this hymn:

Come ye to this twin-peaked slope of Parnassos with distant views, [where dancers are welcome], and [lead me in my songs}, Pierian Goddesses who dwell on the snow-swept crags of Helikon. Sing in honour of Pythian Phoebus, golden-haired, skilled archer and musician, whom blessed Leto bore beside the celebrated marsh, grasping with her hands a sturdy branch of the grey-green olive tree in her time of travail. And the whole vault of heaven rejoiced, [cloudless and bright], and the air subdued to calmness the swift rushing of winds, and the [mighty] deep-thunderous swell of Nereus subsided, and great Okeanos who surrounds and embraces the earth with his waters. Then, leaving the island where Mount Kynthos stands, the god crossed over to the famed land of Attica where the first crops were grown, landing on the earth-peaked headland of the Tritonian goddess. And the Libyan aulos, pouring forth a honey-sweet sound, sings forth, mingling its delightful voice with the trilling melodies [of the kythara]; and Echo, who lives among the rocks, cries forth [„O Paian, I-e Paian”]. And he [Apollo] rejoiced, because he had received into his mind and understood the immortal thoughts of Zeus. And so, from that beginning we call on him as Healer (Pai-on), all of us who have always lived in this land, and the great, inspired holy crowd of the Artists of Dionysos, who dwell in the city of Kekrops. But you, O god who owns the oracular tripod, come to this ridge of Parnassos where the gods tread, and where divine possession is welcomed. Weave a crown of bay about your wine-dark hair, and drawing with your hand […] But, O scion of Leto of the lovely eyelids, you slew the savage child of Earth with your arrows, [And in the same way Tityos, because he] lusted after your mother … the beast you slew…hissing from its lair… Then you guarded the shrine of Earth, beside the navel-stone, O master, when the aggression of the barbarians, looting the hidden treasures, with no reverence for your oracular shrine, was destroyed in the whirling snow. But, O Phoebus, guard the city of Pallas Athena, founded by the gods, and its renowned people, and with him you, goddess Artemis, mistress of the Cretan bow and hounds, and glorious Leto: and at the same time watch over the folk who live in Delphi, their children and their livelihood. And come with kindly intent to the servants of Dionysos who have won holy victories; and may the Roman dominion, crowned with mighty force of arms, be ever increased, vigorous and ageless in glorious victory.

Here is a performance of the hymn as well: Second Delphic Hymn to Apollo.

[piristephes]

Praise to the Nine Muses/Louvor às Nove Musas

Invoco Calíope, de doce voz, de épicas jornadas, pois canto das Piérias Musas inspiradoras, companheiras de Febo Apolo. Com Erato, soprando a flauta, conduz o coração pro deleite de Afrodite Vem também Clio gloriosa, proclamadora dos momentos da história Ao lado Euterpe vivaz, musicando a poesia, entoando alegrias A sóbria Melpomene encanta, com o punhal reluzente, derradeira na melodia Tália zombeteira, de alado coração. Ouve, ri e entoa cantante o hino nunca em vão Polímnia mais sacra, cantando louvores aos céus, ergue as mãos e o rosto sob o véu Urânia que mapeia tudo, perscrutadora do celeste firmamento, louvo a ti, professora do eterno Em passos certeiros vem Terpsícore, sinestésica e refulgente Entre elas, saudadas aqui, vem Apolo do coro, o líder. Saúdo as filhas de Zeus em nove, seguidas do Létida glorioso. Venham sempre propícias, Grandes Musas, vós que inspiram bem o novo.

english:

I invoke Calliope of sweet voice, of epic journeys, as I sing of the inspiring Pierian Muses, companions to Phoebus Apollo With Erato, blowing the flute, led is the heart to Aphrodite's delight Also comes Clio most glorious, proclaimer of the moments of history Beside the vivacious Euterpe, setting song to poetry, chanting joys The sober Melpomene enchants, bright dagger in hand, with lasting melody Smiling Thalia of winged-heart. Listen, laugh and chant the hymn never in vain Most holy Polyhymnia, singing praises to the heavens, lift your hands and face under the veil Ourania who charts all, searcher of the celestial firmament, praised be you, teacher of the eternal In sure steps comes Terpsichore, synesthetic and effulgent Among them, saluted here, is Apollon, leader in choir. I salute the daughters of Zeus in nine, followed by glorious Leto's son. Come always propitious, Great Muses, you who inspire well what's to come.

[catilinas]

all my haters become statius when brothers crossing swords; held by turns, their kingdom, vied for in fiendish hatred; the guilt of Thebes—these my mind, struck by Pierian fire, burns to unfold

[goldsummersblog]

"A little learning is a dangerous thing;/ Drink deep , or taste not the Pierian spring"

-(Alexander pope)

[regexkind]

Working for Nestlé to bottle the Pierian Spring and I wake up the next morning strapped to a rock with an eagle preparing a bib next to me

[paperhagfanfiction]

Soulmates/Soulmarks - drarry fic recs

Pt. 2

Fated by springair(4k)

The last place Harry expects to find his soulmate is in Azkaban.

...

“Hello,” Harry tries again. “What are you doing up?”

“Can’t sleep in this place.” Malfoy smiles slightly, and Harry can’t help but be a little creeped out by the way his lips curl. “I’ve finally went fucking insane, then?” he asks, every word posh and delicate and slow, like he’ll break something other than silence if he raises his voice too much.

Vortex by xanthippe74(20k)

“Don’t worry, my dearest one,” Draco’s mother told him when he confided his worries to her. When he was old enough to feel the pangs of adolescent longing, but still too young to sense the storm gathering around them. “Magic will overcome any distance or obstacles to bring two soulmates together when the time is right. Circumstances will arise that steer them in the right direction; strange coincidences will make their paths cross again and again. Then the most wondrous moment arrives, when you both realize that your soulmate, your perfect match, stands before you, and from that day forward your hearts will be one.”

Ten years after that conversation, the idea of perfectly-matched soulmates feels more like a curse than a blessing to Draco. Who would want a soulmate who was a schoolyard bully, a Death Eater, and a convicted felon? Certainly not Harry Potter. And Draco is determined to take this secret to the grave.

Every Me and Every You by bixgirl1(69k)

Harry liked his life just fine, thankyouverymuch — so it was bad enough when a sly fairy cursed him to leap into alternate realities. But seeing Malfoy in all of them? Definitely way too much. And worse yet: needing the bastard's help to figure out how to get out of of it.

It was a disaster waiting to happen, really.

Well... probably.

New Slang by shushu_yaoi_lj(25k)

He muttered the simple spell, the one he had been practising since he was little, one of the first ones he had begged Mother to teach him.

“Vinculum,” he whispered, and the emerald green thread appeared, still tied around his little finger, but lying limp and severed, hanging from his hand, still sparking and emitting a faint shimmering light, but irretrievably broken. Since the Battle of Hogwarts.

Every Line by Inkdrinkershadowsinger(21k)

Draco has known since the battle that he has Harry Potter's soul mark on his body, and he's known just as long that he can never say a word about it to anyone. Harry is his auror partner, his friend, finally, and Draco is happy with that. He is.

Chilly Feet by shushu_yaoi_lj(13k)

It all starts with a pair of chilly feet under Harry Potter’s bum.

Everything a Word Can Mean by OTPshipper98(2k)

In a world where magical people are born with the nickname their soulmate will call them by tattooed on their skin... what does it mean that the word on Harry's chest is the thing he hates to be called the most?

Just The Two Of Us by Hekatee, Pierian(3k)

Harry finally meets his soulmate. Except his soulmate has been given a heavy dose of morphine and has no idea that his drugged-up rambling includes the words that change Harry's life forever.

Rorschach by gracerene(5k)

Harry never gave much thought to Malfoy's soulmark. But that was before he caught a glimpse. Now it's all he can think about

you've got the antidote for me by Kandakicksass(20k)

When Harry Potter unintentionally severs their soulbond before it can fully form, Draco Malfoy resigns himself to a slow death and decides not to burden Harry with a soulmate he's made it very clear he doesn't want.

He's never been selfless before, but for Harry, he can try.

Written on the Heart by who_la_hoop(113k)

Harry doesn’t mind that so many Slytherins from his year have returned to finish their NEWTs, really he doesn’t. It’s just – do they have to be so friendly? He’s not prejudiced, really he’s not. It’s just – they’ve got to be up to something, right? Unnerved by the attention he’s attracting from everyone – the Slytherins are the least of it, to be fair – and struggling with a raft of changes to Hogwarts itself, Harry wishes he could be happy that one constant remains: Draco Malfoy really fucking hates him.

When he’s hit by an illegal love-spell though, Harry finds he has more to worry about than whether or not Blaise Zabini actually wants to be his friend. For if everyone affected has been blessed – or cursed, by the look on Malfoy’s face – with a magical tattoo revealing the name of their soulmate, what does it mean that Harry’s skin remains completely bare?

[modernmonsterrp]

Pierian chuckles a little at the girls comment.

"nah, s'called vacation day."

He inspects the contents and is surprised to find something rather fancy inside.

"huh. you do all this yourself squirt?"

He glaces back up at her and flicks his gaze to Red before looking back on the girl, assuming he must be a chaperone of sorts.

What was it the fancy shrinks said when the queen and king were trying to help the heir? Something about not ignoring the children to speak to adults, and validating their efforts.

"thanks, looks too good to eat...what's the occasion?"

Little Momo marches pridefully up to Pierian's door; the right one to the apartment building. Hoisted up above her head is a boxed lunch wrapped in koi fish decorated cloth. She overhead the microwave fiasco and brought them lunch! The child insists on helping feed the skeleton. "Piiiieeee!" she called gleefully. There's a snort of a giggle from Red.

The skeleton in question... was having a bad day. He'd called into work and lay in bed with no plans to move ever again.

... Okay, so that was a bit dramatic, but he was depressed. Not being in a bar about it was a win, but he wasn't able to get any father than that.

Of course then there's a small child outside his door calling his name. A jolt of adrenaline shoots through him in the form of anxiety, and without really thinking about how, he's on his feet and peeking out the peep hole.

Its a small child alright, holding a cloth wrapped package over her head. And behind her is Red.

He looks back at his dark apartment. There's a couch with red plaid snuggy thrown over it, a mattress in the corner without a blanket, a music box by it, books obviously fished out if the dump piled around the room, and a small kitchenette that contained little more than a sink full of dishes and the aforementioned microwave.

He was not prepared for guests.

He looks back at the door. He couldn't just. Leave them out there. First off there was a child. Second off there was Red.

Pierian nods to himself once, twice, three times... and opens the door.

"heya little miss an' mister big."

He sounds cheery enough, but looks like he slept in his clothes... which isn't too far off from his usual appearance so.

[filmcentury]

A little learning is a dangerous thing; drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring: there shallow draughts intoxicate the brain, and drinking largely sobers us again.

Alexander Pope (1688 – 1744), English poet, translator, and satirist, from An Essay on Criticism (1709)

[lexigraphique]

pterippus

n. · a winged horse

Bellerophon presented a golden bridle to the pterippus at the Pierian Spring.

From Greek pteros meaning winged + hippos meaning horse. Pegasus is a pterippus. Pterodactyl means winged finger. Platypus, however, means flat footed, where the -pus is from pous meaning foot.

via Mythology, “Bellerophon Pt. 1: Justly Exiled, Unjustly Reviled”, 30 April 2019

[gemsofgreece]

Hi, thank you for the answer about Orpheus!

Yes, Tomasz Mojsik wrote a book? study? on it, The “Double Orpheus”: between Myth and Cult”, it's available online. He draws interesting conclusions and seems to be quoting original sources a lot, though I'm curious what you think on the whole logic behind myth-making as a political move in 5th c. Athens after getting familiar with it.

Have a good day!

At first I thought it was a book and I was scared but okay it’s just a scientific article phewwww 😂

To summarise, Tomasz Mojsik discusses that there was a duality in Orpheus’ ethnical identity. He was perceived as Thracian in general, but also mostly by the Athenians at a time during which they had created a powerful colony in Thrace and were interested in peace and alliance with the then Thracian King. On the other hand, many records regard Orpheus as Pierian Macedonian and this version probably rose at a time when King Archelaus of Macedon was trying to reinforce or persuade of the Hellenism of Macedonia and used this retelling of the Greek mythological figure being Macedonian as evidence of Macedonians being essentially Greeks.

My thoughts now… My impression is that there is a lot of assumption to be found in this research, which is to be expected in a way, since the author’s effort bears little promise from the beginning. We are talking about mythological retellings, which might as well have totally random explanations. I mean, it is a very risky area to draw safe scientific conclusions from.

Technically, it could make sense.

However while Mojsik notes this, he also then sort of ignores it in his reasoning; Greek Mythology sort of hellenizes all the known to the Greeks world. Progenitors and other notable mythological figures all have Greek names, speak fluently Greek, believe in the Greek gods, even when they come from different lands with different cultures. In this sense, Orpheus’ duality isn’t any different from all other supposedly non-Greek figures. They all have certain connections or distant origins from major or lesser deities of the Greek pantheon. As a result they do have a vague Greek origin or even not so vague, even though realistically they should have been total foreigners. If we had to explain everything in a similar way then a whole lot of mythological figures would just exist because Greeks were trying to form alliances with everyone. That’s unlikely IMO because we are just talking about an ancient people creating a lore for themselves. There was no need for accuracy or realism. It is a mystical lore putting gods living a few miles north, so essentially themselves, to the centre of all existence.

Therefore Orpheus being Thracian doesn’t stop him from technically being indistinguishable from all Greeks in all the myths associated with him. He doesn’t speak a different language, Chiron and Jason accept him, his mother is one of the freaking muses, some versions even have him to be the son of Apollo right away.

The actual Thracian equivalent of Orpheus was associated with some cult antagonism between solar and chthonic worshippers. This could have been transferred into Greek mythology via Orpheus being a son of Apollo and then entering Hades to bring back Eurydice. I believe all these might precede the 5th-4th centuries BC. So just because Athens then had these alliances with the Thracians it does not mean it called Orpheus a Thracian to cater to…whom, exactly? A Thracian king? All the Thracians? Please, let’s not forget we are talking about more than two millennias ago. Even if Athenian historians and poets chose to do that, it is certain that very very very very few Thracians would ever found out about it. And even if they sent messengers to the king, they would be like “Just so you know, King, we Athenians think a random mythological figure of ours was Thracian” and then surely the Thracian king would be like “Great! For this alone I am gonna be your ally in peace and war for all time!”.

I know I seem like I am making light of the article. I don’t deny that there might be a truth in Mojsik’s reasoning, but my point is that typically things don’t work this way. Whether propaganda or accurate information, it could not spread and be effective in ancient times as it is now through all the media. Even if the supposed propaganda targeted Athenians themselves, so that Athenians would want tighter bonds with Thracians, I still don’t see how this would guarantee success as in the same sense Athenians would have to want tight bonds with all nations with some associated mythological figure… Let alone that again, many Athenians wouldn’t find out and and even more wouldn’t care.

Besides, we need to stress again that the Thracian in the way he was presented in Greek mythology was very different from the actual living Thracian born in a Thracian family. The mythological one was just a Greek born in Thrace or having some obscure genealogical connection to a Thracian (who was also Greek-passing).

Now, as for the Macedonian version. Technically, in a version where Orpheus was the child of Calliope and Apollo, you can say that in fact Orpheus was an Olympian, and therefore a Pierian Macedonian! This completely eradicates his Thracian identity. Or, even if his father was the Thracian Oeagrus, that still makes him half-Macedonian Greek, half-Thracian, provided that you can call gods an ethnicity.

There is also this question: why was Orpheus’ ethnicity so important to Archelaus? If you already live in Pieria, under the shadow of Olympus, how and why is Orpheus the one expected to make a difference in the identity of the Macedonians?

My theory is that they would care enough for it only if being Thracian was perceived as a threat. The Macedonians did not want to worship a figure that was viewed as Thracian (even in a very loose sense of the term). True enough, the article confirms that at the time Macedonians and Thracians had many tensions.

We also should remember that ancient kingdoms and states did not have the concept of sovereignty and nationality in the way we do now. Macedonia and Thrace were neighbours and as such their populations blended and bled into each other’s region. There were surely Thracians and Macedonians practicing Orphism in Macedonia (and vice versa). If Archelaus considered Orphism was gaining a lot of ground and feared for the established “mainstream” Greek religion, perhaps he did try to macedonify and hellenise Orpheus. Or maybe he just wanted to weaken Thracians and solidify his kingdom in its Greek orientation. Mojsik didn’t analyse this as much but I guess more or less my theory can work with his study.

But all these are very unsafe theories since we are talking about scarce yet various tales associated with ancient beliefs. I don’t think we have enough evidence for any certain conclusion.

Hopefully this made some sense because it is super late at night (or super early in the morning!) and my speech might be a little incoherent.

[finishinglinepress]

FLP CHAPBOOK OF THE DAY: Mother Ship by Paul Jaskunas

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In Mother Ship, we gather chantarelles and words in a #Lithuanian wood. We watch snow fill Lenin’s eyes, picnic in a burning field, and shake hands with “a feral future/just now beginning to snarl.” In #poems of witness and warning, Paul Jaskunas envisions the ecological precarity to come even as he evokes the mysteries of the past and attends with care to the urgent possibilities of our moment. Inviting readers to “drink the cold water/from underground rivers of time,” Mother Ship shines with grace amid the wreckage of history.

Paul Jaskunas is the author of two works of fiction: The Atlas of Remedies (Stillhouse Press) and Hidden (Free Press). His writing has appeared in many periodicals, including the New York Times, America, Tab, The Pierian, and the Potomac Review. He is a past recipient of the Friends of American Writers Award, a Fulbright scholarship, and grants from the Maryland State Arts Council. Since 2008, Paul has taught literature and writing at the Maryland Institute College of Art, where he edits the art journal Full Bleed.

PRAISE FOR Mother Ship by Paul Jaskunas

“With stunning imagery and patient, skillful syntax, these poems shimmer and brim with feeling. Here, we are intimate with mystery inside tea and clouds, in news of a death across the sea, in a bedroom slipper ‘walking the current with uneven steps’ down the Lethe river, in gathering chanterelles while learning Lithuanian words for ‘blueberry/ pine/ birch’.

I trust the intimate voice of these poems when it warns of our collective noise and ecological teetering as much as I do when the speaker leans towards a boozy giant stranger on a train, toasting to ‘euros, to dollars, to Mercedes Benz.’ This is a poet of imagination and deep compassion, conjuring a world where dreamlike imagery reveals truths underneath the oblivion of our days. Somehow, these poems meet the immensity of our moment on earth by making of our collective ecological disasters a myth of which we are the tragic center. As ‘We passersby/ yet smile and nod and shake/ hands with a feral future/ just now beginning to snarl.’ This is a book of poems I will hold close and return to again and again.”

–Anne Haven McDonell, author of Breath on a Coal

“In Mother Ship, Paul Jaskunas ferries back and forth across oceanic Lethes, singing of the warp of time, its disappointments and erasures. Pondering ‘the minor key of the age,’ he invites us to inhabit the lacunae between real and ideal, memory and forgetfulness, impermanence and endurance, always bringing to bear the poignant knowledge that all ‘wholes and halves / will vanish in the / indivisible sky.’”

–Malachi Black, author of Storm Toward Morning

“At once meditative, opinionated, political and personal, the poems in Mother Ship offer us rich rhythms and melodies accompanied by luscious and surprising images. These are poems of juxtaposition: urban/rural/mythic/earthy, set in both Europe and America. There are surprising turns and alignments—a poem about the vulnerable snow leopard, for example, asks us to imagine parallel vulnerabilities of books, readers, and language itself. All are uncannily possible in the hands of a poet who navigates both hope and apocalypse with equanimity. Paul Jaskunas invites us, in a poem with the same title, to ‘Come to the Table’ where we are waited for, and as he says in the poem, ‘There is no time to waste.’”

–Jennifer Wallace, author of Raising the Sparks

“‘[O]f what is our hour worthy?’ Paul Jaskunas asks in Mother Ship. One’s place in the passage of time—reckoned by both memory and forgetting—is the theme that knits together this marvelous collection. Jaskunas delicately probes the ways humans ravage the planet to create ‘the fractured melodies / of our slow catastrophe.’ Even in the face of catastrophe, though, the Mother Ship of Jaskunas’s title poem commands survivors: ‘Stay afloat.’ An especially haunting group of poems set in post-Soviet Eastern Europe—with its mushroom hunts, Lenin statues, and garrulous BMW dealers—explores what happens next. Paul Jaskunas asks the big questions with rare humility and genuine grace: Mother Ship is a collection to treasure.

–Katherine E. Young, author of Woman Drinking Absinthe, Poet Laureate emerita, Arlington, VA

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[legionnaireslover]

“Britain’s own Rupert Murdoch”. Just saw this on mstoxictea’s blog. She really is a brainless twit.

"A little learning is a dangerous thing;

drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring:

there shallow draughts intoxicate the brain,

and drinking largely sobers us again."

Mstoxictea has obviously never drank "deep" - her knowledge of politics/social constructs seems influenced by the reading of ONE book. And now, like all fanatics, she thinks she's an "expert" on even topics she has no understanding of.

Her latest mission is to demonize all things "British" (because the source of her "knowledge" has deemed British society as inherently "evil"), so of course Rupert Murdoch can't be Australian/American!

This ABSOLUTISM is often indicative of people who get drawn into cult-like devotional groups. Gator/Aeltri's gang is one such group.

And more than anything else, right now, Mstoxictea wants to belong in Gator and Aeltri's upper echelon of Haters!

It makes her feel "important". It's an illusion - whenever, on rare occasions, she strays from the "script", she is slapped down hard by Gator or Aeltri.

Gator tolerates her because she gets a devout follower and that feeds Gator's overweaning ego and need for attention.