Sing, Muse, and we will dance for Terpsichore, Herself the Muse of the Dance. Beloved and honored She was during the Classical Age of Greece when the art reached its apogee in that land. Over two hundred different dances were performed in the theaters, temples and gymnasiums and to greater or lesser degrees, they were all danced in honor of the Gods.

The oldest known dances came from Crete. These were circular dances around a tree, altar or sacred icon and later, around a singer or musician. Cretan sculptures show dancers surrounding a lyre player, as well as sacred couple dances and close, swaying dances performed by a female chorus. The word "chorus" means both a dance and a song. The chorus was nearly always performed on a country threshing floor called the halos. Gradually the lyre accompaniment expanded to include flutes, instruments resembling modern mandolins, clarinets, and guitars, and drums, although drumming probably preceded these other instruments by thousands of years. From ancient Crete also comes the Hymn of the Kouretes (see The Holy Book of Women's Mysteries by Z. Budapest for a translation). The hymn calls for the Kouros or young lord, to "leap for full jars and fleecy flocks," so welcoming both the spring and the harvest.

Choreography was included in most, and perhaps all, religious rites of Classical times as a quintessential means of religious expression. Dancing continued into the rites of the early Christian church, though it is no longer featured in most mainstream services today. Vestiges of the practice survive in the Greek Orthodox and some Roman Catholic churches where, during Christmas and Easter services and at wedding feasts, priests chant the liturgy while moving in a circle around the altar.

Classical vase paintings depict stances and motion similar to the Macedonian dances of today. The characteristic meter if 7/8 time, originating in the Pythagorean idea of the Harmony of the Spheres which resonates between the seven then known planets and is echoed in the seven notes of the musical scale and in the seven beats per measure. I personally feel a sense of mystery (and some confusion, too!) when dancing to a 7/8 rhythm. Maybe this is unique to me, accustomed as I am to the 4/4 and 3/4 rhythms, with 7/8 being just an exotic novelty. It will keep you on your toes. For an example of this rhythm, try dancing to Jethro Tull's song, "Ring Out, Solstice Bells" ("Seven maids move in seven time," with the rhythm, clap-clap-clap-clap-pause-clap-clap) and you'll see what I mean. A second beat often used in modern Macedonian dancing is the 5/4 rhythm or the Penton.

Most Greek folk dances, at least the modern ones, travel widdershins (counterclockwise), which at first seemed to me to be counterproductive. However, in some magical circles and ceremonies, widdershins is for drawing energy inward while deosil ( clockwise) directs it outward. This may explain why, in some circles I've attended, the invoked Deity walks widdershins around while speaking or guiding a trance and then, toward the end of the rite, we all danced deosil to raise power and direct it outward.

The winter carnival season dedicated to Dionysus features particularly noisy dancing punctuated by the ringing of cow and sheep bells as animal skin-clad and masked dancers leap and cavort in the streets, brandishing long sticks. Raising raw animal power has long been the focus in shamanic dancing, though, as time advanced, sacred invocations have become masked in general festival tomfoolery--masked but not lost to those who are aware. Hobby horses festooned with paper streamers go cantering down the streets of Athens in May to bring the summer in as pipers play strange tunes. Around the time of the spring equinox even today, village girls in Megara, wearing their best dresses and caps covered with little silver coins, perform the Tratta, the Maidens' Sea Dance. Singing, they link their hands, crossed over in front, and circle slowly to the right and then to the left, over and over again.

About thirty modern Greek dances have been traced down from ancient times. One of these is the current Greek national dance, the Kalamatianos. In 7/8 time, it is danced in a semicircle and consists of twelve basic steps with several variations. The leader and second dancer hold a white handkerchief between them. Often the leader breaks away from the group, swirling, turning and jumping with the handkerchief in hand, making fencing lunges as if with a sword. Usually the leader is male followed by female dancers who continue to hold hands.

The Syrtos, also called the Issos, is considered the oldest of the Greek dances. This is confusing because the ancient Greeks called all circular dances by the name Syrtos. This dance is based on the Pyrrhic Dance, so named because it was believed to have been created by Achilles' son, Pyrrhos, who was said to have been tutored in this by Athene Herself. Achilles performed the dance around the pyre of Patroklos during the Trojan War. In the 7th century BCE, the dance became one of Sparta's chief military exercises, taught to children as young as five. Plato even claimed in his Laws that this dance exceeded all others. From around 300 CE, women began to be included in the Pyrrhic Dance, and it evolved into a couple dance, with love replacing war as its motif. Man and woman faced each other, and the steps were not clearly defined but left to the mood of the dancers. Today's Syrtos usually is a group circular dance in 2/4 time, featuring brush steps, cross steps and other variations.

Discographies featuring music for the Kalamatianos, Syrtos and other Greek dances can be found in most libraries and music stores. These may not be to everyones taste, however, perhaps seeming a bit cliched. Recordings of ancient Greek and Roman music are available, but these rely on interpretations by the performers since no definite conclusions can be made about the ancient material. Nevertheless, you can still dance to them. Among these are Music of Greek Antiquity by Petros Tabouris, Synaulia: Music of Ancient Rome produced by Matteo Silva, as well as Aegean Voices: From Marathon to Eternity by Dimitis Gouzios and the soundtrack to Xena, Warrior Princess by Joseph Loduca. While the latter two are decidedly modern, they sound inspired by the old music and, you have to admit, Xena's fight scenes are well choreographed (maybe even Pyrrhic?) dances. Chaire, Terpsichore!