Hyacinthia

The tale of Hyacinthos is very old indeed. He was the son of the King Of Sparta, more than 4,000 years ago. Prince Hyacinthos was something of a hunk, enough of one that Apollo left Mount Olympus to come play music, hunt, and practice gymnastics with him.

The great games of the ancient Olympics were approaching, and our studly prince had his eye on a trophy in foot-racing. The men of Sparta always did well in gymnastics, but Hyacinthos decided to go for a much more difficult sport: running.

Maybe it was the prince's sleek body … or his simple eagerness … but Apollo found himself falling deeply in love with the young man. Even the greatness of Mount Olympus seemed ordinary to the time the two lovers spent together. In true Spartan tradition, they would practice for hours on the green fields: gymnastics, discus-throwing, and of course: running.

After awhile, rumors of the skills of Hyacinthos and the love of Apollo made their way around Sparta. Apollo and the prince began seeing more and more people standing at the edge of their field … watching. Watching the races, or watching the nude prince?

Hyacinthos seemed unaffected by the attention. He was a prince, after all, and quite accustomed to being watched. A nude athlete was No Big Deal back then: it was all normal.

The crowds grew and grew. A few days before the Games were to begin, more than a thousand people gathered around the field to watch Hyacinthos and Apollo practice. Apollo had taught the prince well, and they were obviously very close to each other. They all agreed that Hyacinthos was going to kick Athens butt at the Olympics: big time.

Apollo stepped on a thorn, and Hyacinthos rushed to his lover to help. It was nothing: just a thorn. But after Hyacinthos pulled it out of Apollo's foot, the crowd hooted in appreciation. The young prince carried the thorn around the field, held high … strutting in a kind of Victory Lap, a preview of things to come. The visitors applauded as if he had slain a great beast.

When he made it back to the start of the circle, Apollo was preparing to throw his discus to show everyone that he was okay. Hyacinthos crouched down as a runner at the start of a race. The young prince - not to be upstaged by Apollo - was prepared to race the discus down-field. The crowd roared in appreciation.

The two lovers were laughing so hard at the thought of a race that they both took several steps back. They embraced with deeply-felt happiness.

But the crowd was not to be quieted. They "demanded" a race: Hyacinthos versus the discus of Apollo.

The lovers shrugged and accepted the demand. Once again, the young athlete crouched at the starting line as Apollo began the circular sweeps in preparation for the throw. At once, Apollo sent the discus hurling to the other end of the field … and the prince took off with all his might.

As amazing as it sounds, Hyacinthos was actually keeping up with the discus. The crowded gave him a boost, screaming his name, yelling GO, HYACINTHOS! GO! To the point that the prince actually passed the discus.

But when he did, the discus began to wobble, almost like someone had reached up and hit it. In an instant, the discus flew down and sliced into the top of the prince's skull. There were short gasps from the crowd and then silence from all but Apollo … who came running from the other end of the field.

The prince never regained consciousness, never moved again. He died in Apollo's arms.

Apollo held the teenager for one last time, crying in the shock of his loss.

Apollo said…

Thou diest, Hyacinthos, robbed of thy youth by me.
Thine is the suffering, but mine the crime.

But what Apollo didn't know … couldn't know … was that Zephyrus the god of the west wind was running away. Some say they saw Zephyrus blow toward the discus at about the same time it began to wobble. Some say Apollo was innocent of causing harm … that Zephyrus was jealous of the two being so happy together … but even so Apollo was not spared the grief.

Apollo said…

Would that I could die for thee!
But since that may not be,
Thou shalt live with me in memory.
Thou shalt become a flower inscribed with my feelings.

The hyacinth flower known to Spartans had markings at the base of the petal that looked like the Greek letters that spell "ai," the word for "grief."

Have you had someone die suddenly or sadly? I've lost loved ones: my first lover was murdered by a drunk driver, and I still cry for him. I've known a hundred young men who have died from the same disease trying to kill me.

But Apollo remembers Hyacinthos by a flower. As hard as it sometimes seems, spring-time does come and the cold winter does become a memory. We can remember grief or hardship by transforming it into new life … by planting something that will come back in bloom year after year.

In Sparta, they celebrated Hyacinthia like this: transforming the cold death of winter into the life of spring. They marked Apollo's grief by plantings, and they celebrated overcoming grief by acknowledging blossoms.

I will be planting a new plant in my garden in honor of all my dead friends: not morbid and not even sad, but transformed into a celebrated memory. Grief accepted and overcome through life.

And I would like to offer you a small plant to take and plant.

Pharaohs built giant tombs for themselves, but how many of those tombs still hold their bodies? The peace of the tombs have been destroyed by grave robbers and archeologists. They don't work.

Ancient cities commissioned imposing statues in memory of heroes. How many of those ancient statues still have their arms and legs and noses? Stone breaks.

Apollo remembered his prince through a flower, the hyacinth.

Apollo's flower lives on today and still makes us happy. Sometimes it is the simple things that work the best.

Grand remembrances impress people at first, but is is the simple remembrance that lasts longest. Stone breaks, gold is too tempting.

After this ritual, please take a plant home with you. We have a selection, some for outdoors and others for indoors. As you put your chosen plant into its new home, think of the person or situation you are saying goodbye to. Think of how you are transforming it -- from the death of winter into the flower of spring. You will finish this ritual on your own in privacy.

It is okay to transform your own sorrow or grief or short-comings or whatever. And as you honor the springtime for yourself through a planting, you make the whole world a better place, maybe for generations to come.

Abra-hadabra.

So mote it be.