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The labyrinth. Everyone has heard of it. It's one of the first things people think of when I mention that my spiritual practice has a Minoan focus. They might think of the beautiful labyrinth set into the floor at Chartres cathedral, or the story of Theseus and the Minotaur, or modern projects like the Pulse Memorial in Orlando, Florida (USA).

It's interesting, then, that no one has ever found an actual labyrinth at a Minoan site. There are lots of almost-but-not-quite-labyrinth meander patterns in Minoan art. And the labyrinth does show up on Cretan coins, but not until many centuries after Minoan civilization was gone.

One thing any researcher knows is that new information is liable to blow old theories to smithereens. The same holds true for Modern Minoan Paganism, an evolving path that incorporates not just archaeological information but also shared gnosis as we work our way forward in spiritual practice.

I'll be the first to admit that I don't like having to change my views. Once I think I have something figured out, it's very pleasant to just hang there, in that space, all smug and satisfied. But I've learned the hard way that nothing is that easy, not just in archaeology, but also in spirituality.

The young woman in that figurine isn't doing a facepalm (it's an ecstatic posture) but it was the closest I could come in Minoan art. "Facepalm" is pretty much my mood right now because I've just had to boot yet another round of racists out of my Modern Minoan Paganism discussion group Ariadne's Tribe. 

Unless you've been on an extreme media fast lately, you're probably aware that there are a lot of right-wing racist (plus other prejudices) type people out there right now, spouting their hateful propaganda and doing their best to convince others to join them. Unfortunately, many of these people have infiltrated Pagan groups in order to expand their recruiting. We hear a lot about this happening with Norse Pagan groups, but it's also happening in Hellenismos and now, Minoan Paganism as well.

I've been in relationship with the Minoan gods and goddesses since I was a teenager, but it was only a few years ago that Modern Minoan Paganism began to take shape as a specific spiritual path. I've been walking that path with the lovely folks in Ariadne's Tribe, and together we're creating a tradition that works for us as Pagans in the modern world. The hardest part, believe it or not, is explaining what we do to other people.

The name Modern Minoan Paganism gives you a pretty good idea from the start: We're combining the bits and pieces we know about ancient Minoan religion and culture in a modern Pagan context. We can't really reconstruct ancient Minoan religious practice in detail. There are too many gaps in our knowledge, we don't live in the same kind of culture the Minoans did, and we probably don't want to go back to sacrificing bulls and goats (and possibly people) anyway.

One of the more frustrating aspects of practicing Modern Minoan Paganism and studying ancient Minoan culture is that we can't read Linear A, the script the Minoans used to write their native language. So we have to rely on the fragments of Minoan myth and history that have trickled down to us via the Greeks (the Minoans weren't Greek - they were their very own independent Bronze Age culture).

This means we don't even know the words the Minoans used for ordinary objects like cups and bowls. The archaeologists who first excavated Minoan sites had backgrounds in Greek history, myth, and culture, so they simply used the Greek terms for the pottery they unearthed. That's why libation pitchers from ancient Crete are called rhytons (or rhyta, if you want to use the Greek plural); rhyton is the Greek word for this kind of container.

In addition to being a writer, I'm also an artist, and I find myself inspired by the works of the ancient Minoans. One of the unique traditions the Minoans had was creating gold seal rings with ritual scenes on them. I've created my own modern art versions of these seal rings as a way of bringing the scenes alive.

Up top you can see my version of the gold seal ring found in the Isopata tomb at Knossos. Here's the original:

If you live on an island, even a big one like Crete, the ocean is a constant presence. And if you spend a lot of time in boats and ships, like the Minoans did when they went fishing or traveled across the waves to trade, the ocean becomes a powerful focus for your safety and livelihood. So it's no surprise that the Minoans had a goddess of the sea, the sacred embodiment of the womb-ocean that their island rises up out of. Her name is Posidaeja.

Posidaeja's name shows up in the Linear B tablets, which record the Mycenaean Greek language. We don't know for sure that Posidaeja is what the Minoans called her, but when we use the name, she answers, so at the very least she's agreeable to it. Many of us who practice Modern Minoan Paganism simply call her Grandmother Ocean.