Word from Greece!
The final pilgrimage for my book, a call for support, and a benediction from the Old Woman
Listen to this letter via audio:
It’s dawn, and I’m writing to you today from the ancient city of Corinth. This was home to one of the most significant cults of Demeter in mainland Greece, second only to Eleusis in terms of prominence.
As some of you may know, I’m in Greece for the final round of field research for my upcoming book. Before I share more about the journey so far, I want to begin with deep gratitude to those of you who have already donated to help make this possible. You are all angels, thank you!
If this is news to you: I’ve been raising funds to support this closing stretch of fieldwork. As an independent researcher, I’m not currently backed by any grants. This work is a labour of love, and is sustained by my teaching work, the generosity of readers, and kindred spirits.
If you’ve found value in my work and would like to support the final stages of this book’s creation, here are some ways you can help:
Become a paid subscriber! All proceeds go straight into funding my research and writing.
Donate via this link - any amount helps!
Sharing this with your people helps a lot too! Re-stacking this post or sharing on instagram if you’re on there - here is a shareable post with all the details.
Thank you again!
By the time you receive this, I will have visited all the Greek sites on my list and I’ll be on my way to Turkey.
I’m still deeply immersed in experiencing this place and haven’t quite got my words to share with you here yet. But for now, I would like to tell you a story.
The morning I set off for the first site, I met an old woman- no quest is worthy of its salt without first encountering the mythic Old Woman, eh?! However epic this tale might sound, I swear to you every word happened just like this.
I stood at a fountain nestled into the base of a megalithic rock. It was morning, and I was driving up the mountain to find the temples of Demeter and Aphrodite. My animal nose stopped the car - in other words, there was something magnetic and communicative here. This often happens on my research trips. The forgotten things themselves long to be known.
An overgrown track wound its way up behind the fountain, and I knew I had to go up it. I will tell you what I found there another time. But before I set off, an old woman shuffled up the mountain road.
She wore all black and pushed an empty trolley. And she trudged directly to the fountain. I thought it strange that she had no containers to fill.
I tried to speak to her but speaking no Greek, and she no English, we resorted to the universal language of hands and grunts.
She indicated I follow her to the fountain. And she proceeded to wash her hands under the jet of water. She gestured I do the same.
I felt a ripple of goose bumps shoot up my spine.
Washing the hands marked the first phase of ritual participation in the Mysteries of Demeter. Ritual hand washing was known as cheirokousis. It was believed to symbolically purify the participant, separating them from the mundane and preparing them to enter sacred space. It was a ritual act of purification (katharsis), showing a reverence and a readiness to cross the threshold into the terrain of mystery.
In the Eleusinian Mysteries, initiates similarly began their journey by purifying themselves at the fountain of Enneakrounos in Athens, a ritual gesture that marked their separation from the everyday world.
After washing our hands, she shuffled over to me and asked me a question.
On seeing I didn’t understand, she placed her left hand on the base of my spine, and with her right hand tapped my pelvis. Her eyes slanted mischievously and I instantly felt her gesture was related to pregnancy.
I am not pregnant, by the way.
Perhaps her meaning was metaphorical.
After all, gestating this book for the past four years, and now standing at the threshold of its birth, feels closer than anything I’ve known to creating new life.
Thank you again for being here, and for all your support. It makes me feel like there are fellow pilgrims walking beside me on this search for the forgotten worlds of our ancient ancestors.
From Corinth, with love,
Gabriela
I am a Greek Cypriot, so I am particularly interested in this part of your journey and book. My paternal grandmother was born and raised in Constantinople before the Greek genocide and death marches took her as a child to mainland Greece, and after marrying my Cypriot grandfather, she ended her days in Cyprus. She was a gifted dream interpreter and coffee cup reader, among other things. I carry fragments of her gifts mingled with the trauma of my ancestors and mine, so everything feels incomplete, unrefined, watered down. Still, I keep journeying. Will you be visiting Cyprus too for your research? If there is anything I can help with please let me know. Greek is my mother tongue but I live in North Wales right now.