Q&A The Pythia
As part of our regular Q&A section, Aditi Khorana asks the Pythia where the future comes from and gets advice on how to avoid losing her way.
The Pythia, Bride of Apollo, Oracle of Delphi interviewed by Aditi Khorana
The Pythia – commonly referred to as the Oracle of Delphi – was the title of the high priestess of the Temple of Apollo at Delphi. Considered one of the most powerful women in the classical world, the Delphic Oracle was present in some form as early as 1400 BC, offering visions to members of Greek society. For nine of the warmest months, on the seventh day of each month, the Pythia accepted questions from farmers and kings alike, on topics ranging from plague, famine, drought, the welfare of cities and states, the worship of gods, war, plans to found colonies and crises of rulership. The Pythia’s rise coincided with the rise of democracy in ancient Greece, making her an authoritative voice in the development of Greek society and civilization.

Priestess of Delphi painted by John Collier in 1851.
From the collection of the Art Gallery of South Australia.
AK: How are you able to see the future?
Pythia: If you are asking about my process, it is one of discipline: I fast, I pray, I thank my ancestors and the Gods. I listen only to rocks, streams and light. When night falls, I open my mouth to the stars which freeze my tongue, watch the moon sculpt the olive trees to statues of frost. I bathe in the crystalline spring till I become a pale ghost. I make a fire, light my hands, allow the smoke to blind me. I forget and forget and forget. Who I am, where I am, where I come from. I leave behind names and places, allow the scent of laurel to make me anew. I sit in silence till all the words have left me. I become permeable, porous, a vessel of the divine. Only then does the future come to me.
AK: Where does the future come from?
Pythia: The future comes from the realm of dreams. And all dreams are spun from the same web. The web is here. And there. And everywhere. Follow one thread and it will show you everything. You live in one part of the web but you believe it is the whole world. This is why you cannot see what I can.
AK: But the ability to see the future is a gift exclusive to see-ers and oracles, no?
Pythia: My “gift,” as you call it, is a common one. The difference between you and me is that I have embraced and nurtured it, made my body and mind an instrument of the divine. This world is built on the divine. One needs to understand this in order to become an intermediary. To see is the kiss of Apollo; it feels like falling over the edge, into the abyss. It is the deepest form of falling in love because to see is to fall in love with the world. Most are afraid to venture where I routinely go because they fear tumbling over the edge. This is understandable. In your world, those who exhibit gifts of the divine are pathologized, medicated, shunned, burned at the stake. You fear getting lost in the darkness, but you live in an upside down world. You are already lost in darkness, entrapped in a trance.
Look at the luminous source in your hand – the one that dictates your thoughts and moods, observe the way you lose yourself in the images and words before you
AK: I am?
Pythia: Look at the luminous source in your hand – the one that dictates your thoughts and moods, observe the way you lose yourself in the images and words before you. My luminous source is an expansive realm: one of aliveness. Here, the trees and rocks speak. The future speaks. The ancestors and Gods speak. In my language, Alḗtheia (ἀλήθεια) is the word we use for “truth”. But the root of it comes from the verb lanthánō (λανθάνω), to “escape notice.” That which escapes notice is concealed. To see is to notice, and therefore to unconceal. Your luminous source separates you from the world, distracts you from the deepest mysteries, those waiting patiently to reveal themselves. My luminous source removes all separation so that past, present, and future show themselves to me. Everything that is alive seeks to be seen. Everything that is alive seeks conjunctio: union. And everything is alive.
AK: How did we forget this? How did we lose our way?
Pythia: This was a common question in my time, asked by those who felt the deep ache of separation. A poet I routinely visit on my travels into the abyss mournfully writes, “those who could hear a song this deeply vanished long ago.” This poet lived hundreds of years before your time. Mortals have asked this question to Gods older than Apollo. You are not alone. Many times, we have lost our way. You live in a time of gnawing separation. But the web is here before you. It calls out to you in your dreams. The ache is simply a call. It tells you that all dreams must be enacted.
Dreams are our compass
AK: What happens if they’re not enacted?
Pythia: Dreams are our compass. To enact a dream is to grow, to transform. Anything that does not grow and transform is dead. Dreams must be enacted so that the world can continue living. Otherwise, the world becomes nothing more than a death machine. Many people choose to live in the death machine. Some become administrators of it. These mortals never really live. To them, nothing is sacred. And so, nothing is alive.
AK: How can I see everything as sacred?
Pythia: Unlearn anything that stands in the way of your belief that it isn’t. Forgive everything and everyone. Notice. Unconceal. Cultivate silence. Take in the stars and the sky and the scent of laurel. Listen to birds and rain. Feed the ants, walk the mountains, touch the skin of a tree. Forget your body, become the wind. Open every window. Speak in tongues. Lie naked before a fire. And when the new words come, when the new worlds come, become the soil and allow all of it to take root within you.
Aditi Khorana is the author of two novels: Mirror in the Sky (Penguin, 2016) and The Library of Fates (Penguin, 2017). She writes, speaks and teaches about the creative capacity of language, myth and narrative. Follow her on Instagram @aditi_khorana.
1. Li Po, 7th century poet