Ritual Report: Orphic Solstice Vigils

At yule, my psuedocoven and I finally pulled off a ritual that we’ve been talking about for years: an all-night vigil, reading our way through the Orphic Hymns. 

Some of us had done Yule vigils, before. Aradia and I hadn’t, so we (arguably) overprepared. We designed our ritual so that four of the seven of us had something to do at every stage, and rotated roles so that no one could space out so hard that it became a problem. We divided the night into hourly shifts, with each of us taking a turn reading the hymns in English (and with Alvianna and I alternating reading the hymns in Greek), pouring wine and burning incense (“sacrificer”), tending to the coffee maker and crock pots (“mom friend”), and participating by chanting back pre-selected lines when prompting by the readers. 

Of the various translations available to us – Thomas Taylor (1792), Apostolos Athanassakis (2013), Patrick Dunn (2018), and Sarah Mastros (2020) – we settled on Dunn. It’s Alvianna’s favorite translation, overall, and my second-favorite after Athanassakis, which is more academic but is admittedly not as good for actual use.

Each shift covered seven hymns, taking us from a bit after sunset (the sun sets early at the Winter Solstice, and most of us have day jobs) to just after dawn, and we bracketed the entire thing with prayers and offerings to Hestia. It was cold in our temple at first, but between my pellet stove and the body heat we generated, it was sweltering by the end. The air was already psychoactively thick with incense by the time we got to the God of Annual Feasts, whose hymn demands an offering of “suffumigation of everything but frankincense, plus a libation of milk”, at which point we were officially chonged out by the time we got to the moment of dawn and the Hymn to Eos. One of us had to leave before then, and a couple of us didn’t quite make it (I was among those falling asleep in the last hours. 

It went so well that we decided to do it again, this time at the Summer Solstice.

Going from the Longest Night to the Shortest required a couple changes: nine hymns each hour instead of seven. Cold food and drinks instead of hot. We also elected for a change of venue: Gaea Retreat Center instead of my home.

We had originally planned to make a three-day campout of it. Unfortunately, this year’s heat wave made that impossible. Instead, we rolled out Sunday afternoon with just our cooler, our camp chairs, and our Clam. We got set up early enough to ease into ritual, and we were more than ready to begin when the sun went down. We added fire-tending to the sacrificer role and guard duty (though that proved unnecessary) to the mom-friend role. We might have made those individual jobs, but there were only five of us, and we actually had camp almost entirely to ourselves, so that wasn’t necessary.

The shorter vigil improved the ritual greatly, and we still had down time to rest, eat, and vibe in between the end of each batch of hymns and the beginning of the next. The outdoor venue also really improved things, particularly since the weather for the overnight was nicer than we had any reason to expect – though, I did miss the psychoative effects of the frankincense, and it was too hot to drink wine or even smoke weed. None of us fell asleep, and we were all surprisingly spry in the mornings.

I honestly don’t remember a lot of the fallout and followup from the first ritual. I was already neck-deep in my Christmas Depression. I think that the vigil gets at least partial credit for getting me through December without a complete and total meltdown, and with giving me the courage to quit my day job in January. I am so far experiencing some vitalization in the aftermath, but that has been a mixed blessing.

Inevitably, we have already been discussing how the ritual could be improved for its next iteration. Our first thought is a compromise between the weather and the clock: having the next Orphic Vigil at the Autumn Equinox. I have suggested two or three minute breaks between each hymn, shortening the break at the end of each section. We are also discussing the merits of having everyone who is not reading Greek, sacrificing, or keeping track of food and coffee, reading along with the reader at the head of the altar. Alternately, rewriting the callback lines to be a little more speciffic, and to always invoke the name of the deity.

We have also been discussing aftereffects. Unsurprisingly, we have all reported sleep and dream disturbances – though, for myself and Aradia, we were already struggling to sleep normal hours… which might have been ritual preverb, or might just be the Spicy Sads. 

What is surprising is that fully three fifths of us, rather than experiencing an bump in our Hellenic contacts, have felt a distinct tug in Luficerian directions. For myself, Lucifer (the gnostic/devil/sabbatic figure, not the Roman Morningstar) has been a part of my daily ritual practice for some time, now, but on my previous rounds of initiatory work with my morning gods, he told me that it was not the time. Tuesday, after my first post-vigil sleep, he announced that now, in fact, is the time. More on that as it develops, I guess.  That was strange enough, but the following day, one of us mentioned their own post-vigil Luciferian visions, and a third confirmed that he had poked his head into their work as well. So now we’re wondering what the fuck is up with that.

After two iterations, though, I can confidently recommend the experience. Each group will need to tweak the general shape of things to their own preferences. As you’re planning things, though, we can say with certainty that a spreadsheet will absolutely be your friend.

Light in Darkness: A Long Unanswered Call

The temple space was erected in my craft room: an altar flanked by couches and sitting cusions, air thick with incense, and lit only by candles.  I stand outside over a secondary altar, lighting a bundle of sage to fumigate each participant before entering.  A line is forming behind Aradia, awaiting my attentions.

I know all these people: they trust and respect me.  I began the night by returning to the Headless Rite.  I should be at the top of my game.  I am not.  Neither the fumigation nor the anointing packs the punch that it should.

At last, everyone is in the circle.  Aradia takes charge and we cast the circle hand to hand.  She has been feeling less than herself, as well, and asks the group for healing and purification.  As she takes her position in the center of the circle, all rise and reach out to offer what aid they can.

One by one, most of us take our turn in the center.  This is not my strong suit.  Somehow, despite a couple spectacular successes, I have never devoted any real time to energetic healing.  Mostly, I try to keep the energy level in the circle high, so that our less experienced participants are not draining themselves needlessly.

At some point, I, too, take my turn in the center.  I feel everyone reach out to me, feel them brush the edges of my energetic body.  I try to let them in, to do the work that needs to be done.  I can’t.

At last, all who feel the need for purification have taken their turn in the center and it is time to move on.

I put on a drum track and don my visionary mask and we all drift into trance.  Well, they do.  I go nowhere.  I cannot even find the Void or my own Inner Temple.  I drift, aimlessly, trapped in my own head.   Finally the beat shifts, signaling the end of the track.  I take off my mask and wait for everyone to return to themselves.

Now is the time for divination.  My guests pair off quickly, trading tarot readings while I sit dazed.  There is a song stuck in my head again.  It’s been there off and on for days.  This is something that almost never happens to me, but it has happened like this once before.

I have to wait a while, and end up ignoring too many of my guests as I remain lost in my own head, but I finally get a reading from Odyssia – one of maybe a handful of witches I have met in the KC metro whose skills are on a whole ‘nother level than Aradia and Chirotus and myself.  The reading covered a lot of territory, but one thing stood out: in the wake of my experience over the last five years, I am without a worldview.  I have no system of reference by which to contextualize my experiences.  I need a frame.  I need a direction in which to explore.

Looking for something concrete to give me, rather than simply affirming my laundry list of questions, Odyssia pulled a new trick from her bag: a pack of note cards she is drafting for her own oracle deck.  At last, a clear image emerges.  A name.  Melek Taus.

I laugh.

The Peacock fucking Angel.

That song, you see, has been stuck in my head before.  My senior year of college, it was there for more than a solid month before I realized what it was: an offer; an invitation; a call.  From the one Power I had never, ever considered.  I grew up in the Satanic Panic, you see.  I spent the first decade of my practice defending against accusations of Devil Worship.  And now Lucifer is reaching out to me?

And yet …

The Yezidi Peacock Angel (who may or may not be Lucifer) features prominently in modern Gnosticism.  I have been flirting with Gnostic thought for more than a year.  It’s all over my art, and half my favorite writers and thinkers have been flirting with it for years.  The alien God who made everything and walked away is hard for me to embrace, and the desire to root itself in Christian heresy is not aesthetically or ethically appealing to me.  But the Archons and the Blind Idiot God who rule over the hologram of the Empire and everything that falls under its shadow … yeah. I can see that in the world.

Melek Taus, I learned that night, also features prominently in the Feri tradition, which I have looked into on more than one occasion.  Just to make things interesting.  Because I need another source of queer art and power.  (Actually, yes, I really fucking do.)

So here we go.  Down the rabbit hole I’ve been dodging since 2014.  I wanted a direction.  Now I have it.

I’m giving in to the Luciferian Gnostic urge.  I will write my own gospel and live my own myth.

Let’s wage war against the world.  Awaken the sleepers.  Fistfight heavenly powers.  Engage in cosmological terrorism.  Set ourselves ablaze and be lights in the darkness.

I’m in it to win it.  Who’s with me?