Ares/Mars as the God of Trauma

Or, How translating the Orphic Hymn to Mars taught me about Ancient Mediterranean somatic therapy

I had not intended on making the Hymn to Ares/Mars the first post in my series of new Orphic Hymn translations, but here we are. Ares came knocking on my door the other day and was like, “You. Now.” I’d be a fool to ignore the commander’s summons.

And perhaps Mars is as good a place as any to start, given the world we are facing right now. The horsemen of the apocalypse seem seem to be riding out of the clearing mist of the pandemic, each of them bearing some tiding of doom.

As I’ve sat with this poem, I’ve begun to see Mars as this: the embodiment and energy of trauma. This is, admittedly, a modern twist on the traditional “god of war” understanding of Ares. (Though of course war is defined by trauma as its central experience.) But by understanding Martial energy not as violence and mayhem per se, but as traumatic energy, we can read the Orphic Hymn with new eyes. And damn, does it seem timely.

[I would be remiss here if I didn’t give myself a plug: if you want to read my version of The Orphic Hymn to Ares/Mars, upgrade to a paying membership (prices are pretty reasonable) or a founding member annual rate (that comes with extra bonus content).]

But whether you are a free or paid subscriber, you should definitely keep reading for very practical take-aways from the Hymn. We all could use a little trauma release.

So…as we sit with this terrifying, rage-inducing world, the question is: How can we work with trauma instead of being engulfed in its tide?

The Orphic Hymn to Ares/Mars offers us surprisingly straightforward advice for moving through and with this planetary energy. Rather than fight it head on (because, let’s face it, you’ll never win a battle with the god of war), the Hymn makes it clear that the most productive stance to take is one that we might call “the firm but fun auntie/uncle approach.”

Imagine your most beloved, fun, but deadass not-playing-around auntie/uncle figure. (Family, celebrity, mythic, you name it.) The sort that will make you stew, give you a big glass of wine and turn on some music, but will. not. tolerate. any. bullshit.

That’s the energy the Hymn invites us to channel when terror and rage seem to get the upper hand.

And by embodying this “deadass auntie” (or uncle, or beloved caregiver) stance towards extreme fear and rage—whether our own or someone else’s or society’s at large—proper direction of Mars’ ferocity can, somewhat paradoxically, lead to greater connection and community.

I wouldn’t be a good animist auntie myself here if I didn’t remind you that what this means is that working with Mars and destructive Martial energy is accomplished through relationship. We don’t attempt to block or dodge or wrest control, because that would just be foolish. C’mon…You really think you can play bouncer to the god of war?

A Human-Sized Approach to Rage, Terror, and Destruction

We are small in the face of Mars’ strength, stamina, and fury. So the Ancient Mediterranean ancestors who wrote the Orphic Hymns offer us this teaching—we should do what any good teacher, nurse, or parent does with an unruly and dangerous charge that has the upper hand:

1. get their attention,

2. explain to them how their actions affect others, and then

3. command/cajole/lure them back into community.

Think, here, of a kindergarten teacher approaching a tantruming child who is running with scissors. Or a big-ass but oh-so-gentle uncle confronting his nephew about his drug use that’s gotten out of hand. Or a small-framed nurse confronting a large, out-of-control patient in the hospital ward.

The image of nurse is appropriate, as readers of the Hymn can see, given the note on which the poem ends—with the use of the Greek term kourotrophos, which can mean childcare provider or wet-nurse. A nurse as in the person in charge in the nursery. What we might call a “nanny.” (You can read more about the term in the footnotes of my translation.) “Nanny” is not exactly the first term that springs to mind when speaking about Ares, but it’s the position that we (the speakers of the Hymn) take on when we read this unusual Hymn.

Why unusual? Well, whereas most Orphic Hymns take a decidedly petitioning tone, the Hymn to Ares is commanding. Not so much as a general might command a soldier with an order that must be obeyed under pain of death, but more as a nurse or tutor might command their charge through a combination of scolding, explanation, and redirection: “Ares! Be careful running with that sword! You could hurt someone with that, and your friends are getting scared! Plus, don’t you see that nanny walking pushing the double stroller next to you? Why don’t you walk over here and use it to slice up some watermelon for our picnic?”

Got it…we need to redirect destructive Ares/Mars energy. But how? What good can possibly come of rage and terror (and running with scissors)?

The key is to harness the underlying ENERGY of Mars, not its most extreme expression of violent rage or paralyzing trembling. When we experience extreme rage and fear, as numerous trauma therapists have pointed out, we are experiencing tremendous energy that needs to escape. Trauma is not like grief, which has waves one needs to surf lightly. Anger and terror demand a sustained, forceful release of energy. We need to go hard, go fast, and go strong.

The Hymn offers us three possibilities, all of which, you’ll be happy to hear, are fairly appetizing choices. Take your pick:

• Partying (specifically drunken carousel with Dionysius/Zeus)

• Sex (or any form of Aphrodisian/Venusian pleasure)

• Farming (or turning one’s sword into Demeter/the Moon’s plow)

Each of these can involve epic feats of derring do. Stamina. Strength. A certain fierce commitment to the Task At Hand.

Am I recommending getting drunk for the entirety of the Mars retrograde? No. That’s exactly what MARS would want to do…take it to the extreme.

But remember, we’re taking on the role of a fun, but ultimately sensible nanny. It’s important that drinking/sex/gardening be intense, exhausting, and all-consuming in that Martial way, AND ALSO they should be geared toward fostering life and community. The ending of the Hymn makes this clear, when it notes that each of these alternate Martial paths leads to a world in which children may flourish.

Practically, what should we do when we are gripped with terror or rage at the turn the world has taken?

Perhaps one or more of the following:

• Read my translation of the Hymn, which (if I do say so myself) clarifies how the original (magical) structure of the Greek makes the role of trauma release very clear. You could read the Hymn simply for pleasure or use it in ritual. One Nice Thing™ would be to read it every Tuesday (Mars’ day) during the retrograde. If nothing else, it will remind you how to self-care when overwhelmed with fear and rage.

• If accessible and healthy for you, undertake a session of strenuous merry-making with friends, sex with yourself or a partner, and/or vigorous work with the earth. (Bonus points if you manage to fit in rousing sessions of all three!) If you are so inclined, dedicate your endeavors to Ares as an offering and powerful channeling of the cosmic Mars energy that is so wildly abundant and riotous right now. Or just pat yourself on the back for finding a good outlet for your murderous rage at the state of the world.

• Leave offerings of wine (Dionysius/Zeus), flowers (Aphrodite/Venus), or fruits/grains (Demeter/Moon) at your altar (if you have one), or in a place you associate with iron and Mars. (My personal fave is my kitchen.) Even if you’re not sure you “believe in” making offerings, it’s wonderful what the simple mindfulness of the act will do for you.

• Spend some time journaling or talking with a soul friend about ways you can nurture small everyday moments of joyful abandon (Dionysius), sensuousness (Aphrodite), and generativity (Demeter/Moon) in your life during these times of extreme global fear and strife.

• Attend an AA meeting yourself or donate to an organization that offers help for substance abuse (Dionysius). Donate to a botanical garden or organization that offers beauty/clothing services to women/femmes in need (Aphrodite). Give your time to a food bank or community garden cleanup (Demeter/Moon).

Remember:

The goal here is not to party/fuck/garden ourselves into oblivion in order to forget our fear of impending doom.

The goal is to channel—consciously and vigorously—the energy of fear and rage into pursuits that foster sustaining, joyful life for all future generations.

Will doing any of these things avert or bring an end to war and civil strife?

Probably not, at least not unless many, many more people were to work this way consciously with rage and fear.

Could it make an impact on how you yourself experience anger and rage? Or, conversely, how you live with the fear of plague, social strife, and climate crisis?

Yes. Yes, it could.

Photo by Victor Sobrado on Unsplash