A-Mazing Spring!

Kay Broome

Grassy Wreath (Photo: Shubham Dhage)

At Beltane, we stand at the entrance to perhaps the busiest time of year. Lately, I have been thinking of mazes and labyrinths – busy contrivances in which we easily lose ourselves.  But where did the idea of the maze design come from? Much of our mythology is based on crucial patterns and events of nature. Persephone’s underworld descent and egress depicts the seasons of the grain harvest. The death of Baldur, “the shining god” in Norse myth suggests the coming of winter’s darkness. And so on. But what does that epitome of all mazes – the labyrinth of Greek myth – actually stand for?

         Open Air Maze (Photo: Natalie Wagner)

It is apparent that labyrinths existed in other cultures: Roman writer Pliny describes one that was hidden beneath the tomb of Lars Porsena, the famed Etruscan king. A labyrinthine site was discovered in the late 19th century in Hawara in Egypt. This may have been part of a temple to Amenemhat III, built around 1800 B.C. India's venerable landscape is replete with numerous ancient texts and carvings that refer to mazes or labyrinths.  There are stone labyrinths on the northeastern coastal area of Russia’s White Sea in the Archangelsk Oblast. These are believed by some archaeologists to be as much as two to three thousand years old, although this is contested.

          Stone Labyrinths on Bolshoi Zayatsky Island, Archangelsk Oblast, Russia (Photo: Andrew Shiva)

Nature has many instances of mazes: labyrinthine cave systems, the interconnections between tree roots and fungal mycelium, ant mounds, and the structure of DNA. The folds and groves of the human brain are as convoluted as anything made by man, complete with threadlike synapses and any fears, concerns or other monsters that lurk within.

Cross Section of the Human Brain, Drawing: from Johannes Sobotta's Human Anatomy, 1908  

The Minoan Labyrinth

The most famous labyrinth is the one featured in the myth of Theseus and the Minotaur.  A hero prince from Athens, Theseus was born of royalty, but believed to be in truth, the son of the sea god Poseidon. Theseus had already accomplished many daring exploits before his foray into the labyrinth to face the dreaded Minotaur.

Tondo or Round Relief of Minotaur, from Attica, Greece, ca 515 BCE (Photo: Marie-Lan Nguyen)

This unfortunate creature was the child of Queen Pasiphaë of Crete. She fell in love with a sacred white bull and, in one of those perverse, off-putting tales that seemed to preoccupy the ancient Greeks, she had sex with the animal. The result of this strange union was the Minotaur, a monster with the body of a man and the head, tail and sometimes, the legs of a bull.  Pasiphaë’s husband, King Minos, was so mortified by his wife’s transgression, that he ordered his master builder Daedalus to build the labyrinth. Thus the result of Pasiphaë’s shameful act would be hidden from the sight of others. I’ve always felt somewhat sorry for the Minotaur. Like the gorgon Medusa, this creature did not ask for the life that was given him.

The Baby Minotaur in Happier Times with Mom, the Settecamini Painter, Attic, ca 340-320 BCE (Photo: Bibi Saint-Pol)

The Monster in the Maze

The problem started when Minos’ eldest son was murdered by jealous competitors during an athletic event that was being held in Athens. The grieving king subsequently threatened to conquer the city with his massive fleet. The Athenians mollified him with the offer, every seven years, of seven of Athens’ best youth and seven of its most beautiful maidens. These children would be shipped off to Crete to be devoured by the Minotaur. How this creature, with the head of a cud-chewing ruminant, would be happy with human flesh, is not explained in the myth.

In any event, for years, the flower of Athenian youth were sacrificed in the labyrinth of Crete, a maze that was so serpentine and complex, escape was virtually impossible. Theseus offered to end this terrible state of affairs by going to Crete as one of the next group of victims. When he reached his destination, Minos’ daughter Ariadne, fell in love with him. She subsequently helped the Greek hero navigate the labyrinth by use of a ball of wool, called a clew. Theseus found the Minotaur and slew him with his sword that he had hidden in his cloak, freeing Athens from the tyranny of the maze.

Theseus Slays the Minotaur While Ariadne Looks On, by Lydos ca. 550-540 BCE (Photo: Yair haklai)

The Centre of the Maze

There has been much conjecture on the veracity of the labyrinth and the ritual of the Minotaur. The exciting excavations of the palaces of Knossus and Phaestos at the turn of the 20th century, only added to the mystery. The Minoan civilization, named after the mythic King Minos, still intrigues us with many questions, due to our inability to translate the Linear A language found on various artifacts. But the breathtaking beauty and charm of items found indicate a culture very different from ancient art up to that point. There is something of these works that is timeless yet fresh. The fresco below, for example, could almost have been done by a French artist of the 19th century.

Women of Knossos, fresco, retouched by Émile Gilliéron, Heraklion Archaological Museum (Photo: Gleb Simonov)

One fascinating aspect of Minoan civilization is the bull leaping ritual that was apparently performed by adolescent males. The athletes would run at a bull, grab hold of the horns and try a backflip over the beast’s body.  This may have been actually attempted, or perhaps it is just symbolic art representing a Minoan myth cycle. Certainly, the bull was sacred in Minoa and at the centre of an important cult, with myriad items and artwork honouring these creatures. Moreover, it appears that many of the gods later honoured by the Hellenic Greeks were worshipped earlier in Minoa. These included Zeus and Dionysus, each frequently given bull attributes in later Greek myth. It is also believed by some that the tale of Minotaur may have been a mythic explanation for the frequent earthquakes, (including no doubt the one that eventually destroyed Minoan civilization), that still occur in that part of the world.

Bull Rhyton from Kato Zakros, ca. 1500-1450 BCE (Photo: Jebulon)

The ball of wool that Ariadne gave to guide Theseus is, in older English translations, often referred to as a clew, an archaic word meaning a ball of wool or thread. The word later changed to clue, meaning evidence, hint or information. The standard myth tells us that Theseus ignominiously slunk away from Crete with Ariadne’s sister Phaedra, leaving her heartbroken. However, there may be an explanation that both exonerates Theseus and makes Ariadne appear not as victim, but as someone with agency and even great power. For Ariadne did not remain despondent, because Dionysus came to Minoa and married her. This suggests the princess was actually a priestess of this god.  Some modern theories posit that Ariadne was in fact, herself an ancient deity, possibly the original mistress of the Minoan labyrinth – the iconic snake goddess. Snakes were, throughout world myth, frequently associated with wisdom and hidden knowledge and they often dwell in burrows located in the ground. A common theory is that the labyrinth may have been a rite of passage in order for participants to achieve wisdom or priesthood. While actual human sacrifice may have been involved, evidence of it occurring specifically during the Minoan period (3000-1000 BC), and not the later Mycenaean, is contested.

Minoan Snake Goddess Statue from Knossus, Heraklion Archaological Museum (Photo: C. Messier)

The Troy Town Dance

There is a dance called Troy Town, consisting of a long line of dancers who weave in and out in a spiralling pattern. This was supposedly begun by Theseus on the Island of Delos as a celebration of his defeat of the Minotaur. To this day, the Troy Town or Spiral Dance is performed by pagans to celebrate sabbats and the changing of seasons. The Beltane Maypole ritual is a variation of this, with dancers each taking up a piece of ribbon hanging from the central pole and moving around it. Traditionally, men would move clockwise and women counter clockwise, weaving in and out around each other, until the ribbons were woven along the pole. This dance celebrates the natural movement of spring – the mating rituals of birds, the darting about of tadpoles and fingerling fish, or leaves sprouting on myriad branches.

One tree that will now be sprouting leaves and soon flowering is the elderberry. To look at them, elders (Sambucus) are not prepossessing yet they have a density of mythos surrounding them. Never growing more than twenty feet (three metres) in height, elders usually have multiple stems. An elder thicket and their composite blossoms could be seen as labyrinthine.

Elder Flowers, West Toronto (Photo: Kay Broome)

An Amazing Little Tree

Naturally occurring elders have masses of white or cream-coloured flowers held on multiple flat-topped stalks called racemes. These bloom through mid to late spring. They are dried to make herbal teas, used fresh in infusions for salves or lotions, or to make syrups and subtly flavoured beverages. The three major types of elder are all named after the colour of their tiny, bead-like berries which bloom in late summer and fall.  The black elder (S. nigra) is the most common and most used for culinary and medical purposes.  It is found throughout the temperate region of the northern hemisphere. Its North American cousin, S. canadensis is very similar in appearance and used much the same way. Some hybrids of black elder such as Black Lace and Black Beauty have attractive purple foliage and pink or mauve flowers.

Left: Black Elder, Right: Black Beauty Elder, West Toronto  (Photos: Kay Broome)

Like her black cousin, red elder (S. racemosa), grows throughout the northern hemisphere and is similar in appearance, save for the tiny scarlet berries.  These and the flowers can be used much as black elder is; however, it was generally only the North American First Nations who used the plant for cooking or medicine. The blue elder (S. cerulea) is, in its native range, limited to western North America. It is differentiated from the other elders by the grape-like bloom on the navy berries, lending them a light blue sheen. The plant is used locally by First Nations much as red elder is.  Yet another type, dwarf elder (S. ebulus), from western and central Eurasia has attractive white flowers edged in pink borders, and glossy black fruit somewhat larger than those of other elders.  This variant is used extensively in medicine. With all elders, the berries must be cooked before eating, as they are mildly poisonous and purgative.The elder bush is an excellent species to cultivate for native gardens, attracting birds, small animals and bees, and other pollinating insects. Elders prefer moist soil and grow along waterways, in meadows and hedgerows.

Left: Red Elder, Bärstadt, Germany (Gerda Arendt), Right: Blue Elder, Dunlap Vista, California (Photo: Krzysztof Ziarnek)

The Elder Mother

It is somehow appropriate that such a homely yet honoured bush has a shadowy reputation. Elder was reviled by the Christian church, being one of a very loooong list of trees from which Christ’s cross was supposedly made. On the other hand, it was seen as a heal-all, often sacred to the local benevolent goddess. But like that other ambiguous tree, the hawthorn, elderberry had to be treated with respect. In England and Scotland, one asked permission of the Elder Mother before taking even a branch from a bush. Scandinavians knew her as Hyldemoer. In all instances, she was deemed queen of the fairies. In Slavic myth, the Earth mother, Mokosh, gifted the people with Elder out of compassion for their suffering.  But in these countries, elderberry was also was tied to Baba Yaga, the harsh, forest dwelling witch goddess. The dichotomy here alludes to both the health giving aspects of this small tree, along with its purgative and poisonous nature.

Although the little tree was held in high regard as a heal-all, it was also believed that witches could transform themselves into an elder. It was further held in many parts of Europe that if one waited by an elderberry on Midsummer night, they would see the Fairy King and Queen ride by with their retinue. If you were seen by them, the fairies might entice you away to their enchanted world, perhaps to dance the Troy Town!

Dancing Fairies, August Malmström, 1866, Nationalmuseum, Stockholm (Open Source)

Both Healing and Harsh

As a common cure, elder was associated with witches and herbalists. We know that in Christian times, even now, witches are generally associated with strafing magic. But in fact, they were traditionally held in high regard in their communities, acting as pharmacists, doctors and therapists for their neighbours, most of whom were poor people.  Many witches were midwives and in the days before funeral parlors, helped with the “laying out” of the dead.  Like the elder tree then, the witch was associated with the beginning and the end of life.  Elders were frequently planted, along with hawthorn and rowan, at stone circles and other prehistoric ritual sites. They were considered protectors of the land and stood guard against profane or malign energies.

In the Celtic Ogham, Elder or Ruis is associated with “reddening”, implying blushing with shame or desire. The rune, situated in the third of four sections or aicme, refers to change or transformation, as well as rage, passion or loss of control.

The Ogham Ruis (Illustration: Kay Broome)