Imagining Orpheus: enchanting the landscape
Imagining Orpheus is a different matter. Most people can recall two things about him: that he was a musician, and that he went down to the Underworld to fetch his wife Eurydice. His story is the archetypal myth of the power of music.
With the lyre that was the gift from Apollo, Orpheus could move everything in creation, from stones, trees, and beasts, through humans, to daimonic and even divine beings (whom we might call angels and gods).
Armed only with his songs, he charmed the denizens of Hades and persuaded Pluto and Persephone to let him take Eurydice back.
Orpheus was a prince of Thrace, the land to the north of Greece. His mother was Calliope, the Muse of epic poetry. Some say his father was Apollo, and certainly Orpheus stands under the patronage of that god. Apollo also had northern connections, either coming from Hyperborea (the land beyond the north wind), or else visiting that far northern land after his birth on the island of Delos.
Where was Hyperborea? As it was said to contain a circular temple to the sun, some have identified it with Britain, and its temple with Stonehenge, a monument far older than any in Greece.
Stonehenge, and the people who constructed it, were Apollonian in the sense of being dedicated to the sun, to astronomy, mathematics and music. A number of modern researchers have penetrated beyond the limitations of academic prehistory to reveal, through intuition, the bases of this ancient science.
John Mitchell, the pioneer in this regard, has reconstructed the diagrams and dimensions that seem to lie at the basis of megalithic design. Jean Richar has shown that there is an imaginary zodiac whose twelvefold symbolism links mythology with the geography of the Aegean area. Paul Broadhurst and Hamish Miller have traced a plethora of Apollonian sites in geometrical alignment, all the way from Ireland to Palestine.
Mitchell, in addition, has traced the myth of ‘perpetual choirs’ maintained at ancient sanctuaries for the purpose of what he calls ‘enchanting the landscape’. If one is attentive to such findings, it is clear that there was a high and orderly civilisation well established by the third millennium BC, of which the archaeologists know almost nothing.
This enchantment of the landscape is exactly what Orpehus is reputed to have done with his music, casting a benign spell over nature and bringing peace among men. As part of his mission, he reformed the cult of Dionysus and tried to persuade his followers to give up their blood sacrifices. In place of Dionysian orgies, Orpheus founded the first Mysteries of Greece. The purpose of these, as far as we can tell, was to transmit some kind of direct knowledge that was helpful in facing the prospect of death.
Orpheus’s journey to the Underworld to fetch Eurydice should be understood in the context of the Mysteries. In the earliest versions of the myth, he did succeed in restoring her to life.
Joscelyn Godwin, The Golden Thread, The Orphic Mysteries
there are those among us still who carry on in his place….listen and you may hear them..
In the gardens of morning
the sky-gray doves
hear his raveled tantras
with late summer clarity.
hear the weaving sigh
the trembling thread
the mantra of tangled limbs
where love rains
Orpheus to the lost Eurydice
The breezes chime sublime bronze bells.
The rain muses a gentle drama on your roof.
I lie in happy fragments mixed in your joy
that lifts me out of our weightless sleep.
Love is joined conjurations, enchanted lament,
twisted vines of light
planted in the gardens of luminous morning
where sky-gray doves sing
their raveled tantras into the late summer clarities.
But the gray air is not filled with music.
The air itself is music.
If the world is compounded with something more
than the drifted calx of space
and the fallen dust of dreams,
it is that i sing out
my heart in yours
note by note
word by word
and enchant the gray air to song.
Calx is burned cinder from, in this case, exploded stars, of which the earth is made. Reality is also made of the dust that precipitates out of dreams. In so far as a poet like Orpheus spins that dust into the air, new worlds form.