Apollo. Artist: Michele Desubleo (circa 1601 –1676)
As I hiked up the old E4 trail above the temple complex at Delphi, romance was the last thing on my mind let alone a dalliance with the ancient forgotten Greek god of Light and Wisdom. It was April of 2015, and all I wanted to do was to get away from the tourists and my worries about a book deadline with Simon & Schuster—an intense non-fiction exploration of the ego and enlightenment that was to be my third published book.
A friend had invited me to stay at her house on the island of Paros for three months to finish it, and I’d taken a brief two-day jaunt up to Apollo’s temple complex at Delphi before catching the ferry at the port of Piraeus to the island.
The last time I’d been to the temple was when I was 19, and I couldn’t wait to see the place again. I’d always had a “thing” for the Greek gods, Apollo in particular. But a full day fighting herds of Japanese and throngs of school children brandishing smart phones taking selfies in front of every ancient crumbling wall and column was enough. Surely I could find some peace and quiet day two on the sweeping empty slopes of Mount Parnassus?
He gave me about a half hour of quiet contemplation on a cliff overlooking the temple complex and the Pleistos River valley before intruding into my life, bounding over the rocks towards me wearing stylishly-ripped jeans and an Earth-shattering smile. Of course, I didn’t have a clue who he was at first and didn’t want to know. Pushy, gorgeous Greek guys in their thirties hold no interest for me. (I mean, come on. I’m over 60!) But with a whole mountain of choices available to him, damned if he didn’t come right up and plop down next to me.
I didn’t even have time to react before he blurted, “Hi! I’m Apollo. I have things to tell humanity. Let’s talk.”
And then . . . he disappeared.
It was pretty outrageous as visions go. And surely that`s what it must have been? Except it wasn’t anything like any of the visions I’d (rarely) had in the past—gauzy, nebulous affairs that sometimes accompanied deep meditations and pre-sleep moments late at night—and always with my eyes closed.
This occurrence couldn’t have been more different. It was broad daylight. I wasn’t meditating and I wasn’t sleepy. In fact, I was rather hopped up on caffeine at the time. (Greek coffee is not for sissies!)
I didn’t think to try to touch him. It all happened so fast. One moment I was surprised by him erupting onto the scene out of seeming nowhere. Then I was pissed that my solitude had been broken. Then I’d been mildly alarmed and overwhelmed by the power of his sheer presence. And then POOF! He was gone.
Was I crazy? Seeing things? Hearing things? Had it been real? Yes? No? And, if yes what did Apollo want to tell humanity?
I hung around for an hour or so, hoping (fearing) he’d come back, my mind running in confused circles. Finally I gave it up and started hiking back down the mountain, my morning plans shredded.
As soon as I got back to my room at the little hotel in the village of Delphi I pulled out my computer and started writing about my encounter. I had to get the details down! From the startling forcefulness of his very male presence to his shocking copper-colored eyes to his dark red-brown shoulder-length curls shot through with glints of gold. And his very modern clothes. T-shirt and jeans. Upon reflection I remembered he’d been wearing gym shoes. Nikes? I laughed grimly to myself. Of all the weird details.
What did he have to say? Why had he approached me? Had I hallucinated the whole thing? And if what I thought happened really happened, what did the world need to know? What did I need to know? Mind cracked wide open with shock, I sat at my computer the rest of the day, writing furiously about everything that occurred to me—ancient misunderstandings, wars, annihilation, cross-time plots and schemes for power and manipulation by beings that humanity took for gods but that were far from that ideal . . . one word leading to the next.
I stopped after dark, stomach growling emptily, practically panting. It’s how I write. When the “muse” is upon me I’ll go from the wee hours of the morning until midnight, going almost into a trance as the information flows through me out onto the page. It’s not channeling exactly. Although I can’t be too sure about that either as quite often the information coming out is surprising and takes strange and unexpected twists that “I” have nothing to do with. And that’s with non-fiction, writing about consciousness and psychology!
Writing about Apollo was far more compelling and trance-inducing.
Following a sleepless night, the next morning found me on a bus back to Athens. Not surprisingly, I couldn’t get Apollo out of my mind. His dark message of manipulation by the gods and the willing powerlessness of human beings had completely taken me over. “It is time the conspiracy of silence and the false gods’ power over you is broken,” he said. “It is time for the Great Feminine to rise and old wounds to be healed.”
Huh? I pulled out my computer the moment I was settled back in Athens. What false gods? Which wounds? He told me many things over the next 24 hours. Or maybe the startling ideas simply fell out of the ethers into my head. I have no idea. But it seemed the longer I communed with Apollo sitting at the keyboard, the easier and more familiar the relationship became. It was as if we knew each other—had known each other from another time when the world was new and gods and goddesses were paramount in men’s and women’s minds.
And then it was time to catch the ferry to Paros and come back to the “real world” of book deadlines and publishing logistics. I had three months of hard work ahead of me on a completely different subject: the ego, psychology and the consciousness of enlightenment. And I didn’t want to stop writing about Apollo! I was obsessed! The book I’d been so excited to write (and been paid to write) just days before suddenly seemed like an irritating inconsequential disturbance in the field of my life.
It’s been four years since that amazing experience on the mountainside above the temples of Delphi. I finished the book about the ego and enlightenment and it was published two years later. Three days after I emailed my final draft to my editor, I shifted gears and, heart singing in excitement and joy, started communing with Apollo again.
It’s been a long journey, pursuing his story. And it hasn’t been an easy trip. Apollo completely derailed the life I had planned, which is pretty outrageous for what is most likely a completely fictional character living only in my head. But could an imaginary being possibly be that potent?
Back in 2015 I was an incredibly serious, highly intellectual, driven woman, consumed with the dream of moving to California and being a spiritual teacher, getting the information I’d received during my awakening in 2007 out to the spiritual community and the world at large.
I don’t know if he was directly responsible or not. But the timing is extremely suspicious. For since our time together I have let all the old dreams go, hugely disappointing and letting some people down in the process. And I spent two years wading through the abyss of feeling like a complete failure in the process of dismantling the old success-hungry me before opening and flowering into a much softer, more energetically aware and available being. And it’s been my salvation.
Since embracing Apollo and his love for me and humanity and writing his story (or at least part of it), I’m content with the simple things in life and the present moment no matter what it contains. The beasts of intense wanting and striving, all based in the need to somehow prove myself valuable as a woman and a human being, have wandered away. I no longer have the desire to tell people “how it is” and what the “truth” is or how far off base the vast majority of teachings about enlightenment are in the West. And I definitely don’t want to be a spiritual teacher.
California now lies 2,000 miles to the east. Much to my surprise, the island spirit of Maui called me to her shores last fall. I’d never been to Hawaii and hadn’t really cared to go. But a friend invited me for a visit and the island did the rest, clearly telling me, “Come home to Momma Maui. Let me take care of you.” I listened. And it was here that I finally decided to tell Apollo’s story and reveal his passionate desire to see the great feminine wound on this planet healed for good.
Heaven only knows, the god of Light and Wisdom has healed me.
Copyright 2019 by Cate Montana.
Apollo & Me
by Cate Montana
Across-time tale of deathless love, magic and sexual healing, Apollo & Me explodes the myths around older women and sex, the relationship between the gods and man, man and woman, and the very nature of the world itself.
Click here for more info and/or to order this paperback book.(Order now. Book release on May 7th, 2019)
Cate Montana has a master’s degree in psychology and has given up writing non-fiction articles and books about consciousness, quantum physics, and evolution. She is now a novelist and story teller, blending head and heart in her first teaching tale, the spiritual romance Apollo & Me, available at Amazon.com! Visit her website at www.catemontana.com