Satyr Sex Sects

Hey.

So, do you know Dionysos yet?

Gonna tell you a funny story of how I met him.

Started a couple of years ago. I’d already met Brighid and Brân by then, and sort of knew Ceridwen and Arianrhod, though not by name.  I was all really new to this stuff (still am, really), and kinda had this bumbling oaf thing going where I’d stumble into really big things because I didn’t know much better.  Kinda the perpetual Fool.

In retrospect, I wouldn’t have done half the stuff I did back then had I known better.  But I’m also glad I didn’t know better.

Anyway, so this friend is telling me about how he’d been trying to do a ritual for Dionysos and it didn’t go quite right and he was sort of upset because he was the sort who tried really, really hard to get everything just perfectly right.  And I, bumbling fool that I was, thinking it couldn’t possibly hurt, found myself sort of half-trance, not really knowing what I was on about, telling Dionysos he should be easier on said friend.

It was sort of a joke, I guess.  I mean, I’d met gods, but for some reason the notion of precisely how powerful and awfully serious their existence was hadn’t quite sunk in.  I was being a bit flippant, and really, technically, chided a god.

Don’t do that.

I think I’ve tried to explain the ensuing weeks several times, but still can’t fully to them justice.  My entire world became a walking myth in which I was being hunted by some otherworldly trickster, or, more so, I’d become an actor in a play I didn’t know the script for. Everything felt orchestrated, bizarre yet somehow hilarious, and…well.  Okay. It wasn’t just the sex, but there was a lot of sex.

I’m a decent looking guy.  A bit thuggish, more on the rugged-goofy side.  Not a sexual athlete, and more charming than ‘holy fuck I gotta sleep with that guy.‘  Also, sometimes, I’d really rather just be read-to by a man than wrestle in furious sweaty fur (which is also fun, by the way–don’t get me wrong).

So–the next day some guy I hadn’t seen in awhile calls me and wants to fuck.  And so, yeah, sure.  I do.  And the next day I’m at a bar and someone wants to.  And I say yes, because. why not?  And then the next day, my roommate’s straight friend decides he wants nothing more than to be thrown around by me for a couple of hours.

This kept happening.  And at first, it was great (honestly, it was).  But the more ridiculous the events became, the more I couldn’t help but wonder if something else was happening.  I mean, sure.  I’m hot.  But there’d never been a line at my door, nor had a complete stranger ever wandered into the bathroom while I’m showering and asked me to maul him.

It actually got annoying, and a little exhausting.

I finally connected my absurd string of sudden suitors to my ridiculous act of chiding a god, which began probably the wildest ride ever (and as I said, I’d just been on quite the journey).

I think almost everything I’ve learned to do for the other gods I worship, particularly for Brân, was learned through meeting Dionysos.  The stuff with the dead, particularly, and some oracular stuff.  My first pilgrimage started on the feast of St. Eleutherios (an epithet for Dionysos–the Liberator) and ended on the Feast of St. Denis (French derivative of Dionysos).

It’s interesting, though–he’s not someone constantly in my world.  I’ve heard this happens for some others, that he acts often as an initiator on behalf of other gods.  But, anyway, he’s fucking cool.  Just don’t chide him, seriously.

And by the way, I think without Sannion’s help, I may have gone mad through all those interactions.  Sannion’s written massive tomes on Dionysos, and ritual poetry, and ecstatic poetry, and once did monthly oracular work, and actually replied to emails I sent him that must have seemed utterly incoherent.

In late July, he and a bunch of other fine folks are putting on a Dionysian ritual at Many Gods West.  They’re doing a group fundraiser (rather than individual ones) to help members put it on.  I donated to them (despite being a mostly destitute punk) because, fuck.  Dionysos is awesome, and so is the work they’re doing.  And if you can, could you help them out a bit too?

It won’t get you laid lots (and be glad of it…seriously) or any reward in the afterlife or get you closer to the ‘Goddess.’  But it’d help them, and may help other poor mad fools figure out why their life has exploded into meaning.