The Test

In a few short hours I'll be setting out on the longest journey of the season and the first of the final two. I'll be traveling over 50 miles filming and capturing images along the way for "The Battle With the Furies" chapter of my story. Beyond the journey itself - I'll be doing it all without any sleep.

I always get restless when I get close to the end of my ongoing quest. A lingering sense of urgency, anxiety, nervousness. I've been on enough adventures to know what I am about to go through - to know that much of it is going to hurt.

That's part of the deal.

My story is one of suffering and sacrifice. The old kind. Something most modern pagans try their best to run away or hide from. None of them having the slightest clue what it takes to "honor the gods" they claim to follow and serve. Easy to talk of a path, not so easy to walk one.

As before, once again Zeus interfered with the set task. Sending thunderstorms across the area, delaying the journey for three days. But the clouds have parted and soon the next steps of the journey will be taken.

I'll be traveling far to the east, further than I have ever ventured before, into a forest steeped in history and urban legend as I wrote of in the previous entry. I'll set out hours before sunrise in order to make it to my destination with enough daylight left to do what is to be done. The days are getting shorter, the nights colder and the area I am traveling into is not the type of place one wants to have to pass through after dark.

A few short hours away from sacrificing more of my body and soul - glorious.

For now, a hot shower and a hot coffee. Then it will be time to check my gear and prepare to take on a beast of a challenge, worthy of the Furies themselves.

The Battle with the Furies

I've gotten to the point with The Journeybook chronicle of this very tale that I've begun to forget some of the adventures I've had along the way. Looking back through the video chronicles I often run into chapters where I have "Oh yeah..." moments.

It's been a long quest. I've been to so many places, seen so many things. All of them extremely beautiful, many of them equally difficult. Now the end of the journey comes into view as the second season of The Journeybook sneaks up on the season finale where I will once again take on the challenge that injured me last year.

The second season of The Journeybook has primarily been a training season. All of these journeys testing a multitude of things and pushing the physical limits in preparation for one last great adventure and the ultimate goal of capturing the ritual of the final votive on film. A ritual - which last year proved - that is designed to be beyond all physical, psychological and spiritual limits. The ritual itself being a test - a proving of worth.

When i set out to complete the final ritual and place the final votive last year I thought that somehow I would find a way to pull it off in spite of the ritual being designed to defeat me.

That failure comes with a price, same as any oath or promise broken to a God. And that price is to be paid before the final votive can be placed.

This photo (right) is an aerial view of the ancient Erinyes Crater, a portal to the Temple of the Furies. A formulaic oath in the Iliad invokes them as "those who beneath the earth punish whosoever has sworn a false oath".

Time and the Sister of Fate played a role in causing me to break my promise to Hera that the final votive would be placed upon the Summit of Sacrifice last year. Before I can attempt to do so again I have to pass the test of The Furies by traveling to the peak at the center of the crater and obtaining an artifact from their temple. One that they have no intentions of allowing any mortal to have.

There are other dangers to this next journey aside from the Furies themselves. The area is said to be plagued by melon heads. According to local lore, the melon heads were originally orphans under the watch of a mysterious figure known as Dr. Crow. Crow is said to have performed unusual experiments on the children, who developed large, hairless heads and malformed bodies. Some accounts claim that the children were already suffering from hydrocephalus, and that Crow injected even more fluid into their brains.

Eventually, the legend continues, the children killed Crow, burned the orphanage, and retreated to the surrounding forests. The same forests where I must travel in order to get to the crater. 

I'm not the only one in history to know of the powers of this forest. Berea sandstone from this place was taken to build the foundations for many local buildings, including the Kirtland Temple, which was completed in 1836 after a man by the name of Joseph Smith was reportedly visited by "an angel" who directed him to a buried book written on golden plates containing the religious history of an ancient people. From the temple built of these stones rose the Mormon faith and the endeavor to build the city of Zion - which never happened. (On a side note: Lindsey Stirling, the violinist who opened up the second season of The Journeybook and has appeared in several of the videos just so happens to be a Mormon herself. She is also one of the sweetest people you could ever hope to meet.)

And so the plot thickens as the final battle with Zeus comes ever closer.

The Rage of Zeus

Years ago, when the riverbank beach was chosen to be the destination of the annual Spring Precession of Hera's Altar Statue to the river a long stretch of Datura stramonium began growing there. As a result of the appearance of the plants they were consecrated and named "Hera's Star" and since have been listed as the most sacred of all plants dedicated to Hera within the Heraian tale.

It is an extremely potent plant. Ingestion of parts of the plant can cause delirium (inability to differentiate reality from fantasy), hallucinations, elevated temperature, flushed skin, fast heart rate,  and agitation (bizarre, and possibly violent behavior).  The changes in mental status can last for days in cases of severe intoxication.

Several seed pods were gathered from the 'wild garden' from the sacred riverbank and allowed to open in their own time at the foot of Hera's Statue. Once fully opened the seeds were allowed to dry and then placed in small glass viles which rest upon the altar until the following spring when they were finally planted and the transference of the plans from the river was complete.

Yesterday I once again visited the riverbank  while out fishing and I was anticipating seeing how the riverbank was growing with all of its many plants and wildflowers. But much to my heartbreak this is what I saw instead:

Every one of Hera's Stars have been killed while all of the plants surrounding them remain. They are dry, brittle, their stems twisted, their still developing seed pods hanging lifeless upon broken stems by a thread. where there was once a long beautiful stretch of dark green and bursting white blossoms there is only desolation. But only here and only of these sacred plants. Nothing else has been damaged or touched.

Of these consecrated plants, the only ones still in existence are those from which I grew from the seed pods I took after they were dedicated to Hera. 17 of them grow today in a protected area and are blessedly producing new seed pods of there own. One of which grows in a terracotta pot inside the altar room itself where it is kept under strict guard and tending. Especially now that its parental stock has been eradicated. One final vile of the sacred seeds also remains inside Hera's Altar Room. There are perhaps 200 or so seeds in the tiny glass vile.In addition 3 full roots of the plants were also taken during the first dedication. The root systems were placed in the altar room and allowed to dry for use in ceremony.

The protection of this dedicated and blessed stock is now a priority with the remaining few under constant guard and given the best of everything so that they might thrive and produce the now precious seeds needed to resurrect them.

In response to the insult to Hera and the destruction of her sacred wild garden along the riverbank it hs been decreed that a new, protected, and private garden dedicated to the Goddess is to be constructed beginning immediately with an estimated completion time of next summer.

The new garden dedicated to Hera will include Hera's Stars from the consecrated seeds along with dozens of other flowers and plants. Seeds from the newly built Gardens of Hera will be taken to the river during the annual Spring Procession and with luck will rebirth the original sacred stretch.

Lightning in a Bottle - Thunder Wine

I woke up before down this morning to flashes of lightning and claps of thunder and I welcomed it. I've been in and out, playing in the storm, soaking up the rain all morning.

Completing the challenges on the Path of Gaia I returned home to check in on another challenge I had committed to some time back. The challenge was to fill a crystal bowel with less than a cup of rain water from every thunderstorm of the season until the Greek vase I was storing it in was full. The rule was that there had to be both thunder and lightning present during the gathering of the water. Reason being, lightning alters the chemical composition of rain water. Without lightning there literally would not be any life on the planet. It took a dozen thunderstorms, filling the crystal bowel one raindrop at a time, in order to fill the vase.

 Once I had collected the storm water the trick was to turn the water into wine. And so I set about brewing, mixing, filtering, fermenting, and creating a perfectly balanced sweet amber red wine from the storm water. Not red in the traditional sense. This wine happens to be made primarily of honey. The red tint comes from the pomegranate and herbs I used during the fermentation process. The result has come to be a rather potent potion and a measure of that exact potion can be seen here:

This small measure taken from the main stock is enjoyed (no more and an ounce at a time) on days like today when there is a thunderstorm present. Some is offered up as an offering to Hera upon the altar, while the rest is to be sealed in a very special, hand etched lightning bolt wine bottle. Once corked the cork will be sealed with a special red wax embedded with a fulgurite crystal (a petrified lightning bolt).

This wine has a sweet start with a spicy finish that lingers. it is the perfect embodiment of the elements from which it was created. It also happens to be a one of a kind wine. This wine cannot be reproduced. This one batch is all there is and all there will ever be.

Crafting unique items such as this has become an important part of the path with the Goddess Hera. Historically the ancient gods tend to be hard to please and even harder to remain in the favor of. This list of things I have done in Hera's name has grown exceedingly long. I've even developed a habit of sleeping before the altar more times than not. A practice that seems to be linked to the lucid dreams I've been having and also a deep sense of reserved calm. 

A calm before the storm. Very soon I will be taking on the challenge of all challenges on this path thus far. I have put everything I have ever accomplished, created, loved and suffered for on the line with this challenge. The ancient bond on Hera still remains in effect, Zeus still holds some measure of control over her. Golden chains that I intend to break. Whatever the cost. 

The Path of Gaia

I'm currently making preparations to head out on a long journey into a 300 million year old landscape that will require traveling over 40 miles by mountain bike followed by 10 miles worth of cross country hiking through the rugged terrain of an ancient sea bed - the first endurance challenge of this season of The Journeybook and the continued quest in the name of Hera. 

It takes longer to prepare for these long journeys and more to anticipate. Learning from past travels and adventures I know what I am facing and what I will putting my mind, body and soul through in the next 15+ hours. I'll be setting out on the journey before sunrise so that I might make it to the goal area of this quest with plenty of daylight in which to explore and film. I'll be in touch with those who follow me along on these journeys via Facebook by sending out live updates throughout the day. 

To help with the challenges to come I've prepared a couple of simple aids: an infusion of lemon, honey, herbs and white tea extract, a balm made from extra virgin olive oil and simple things of that nature. The journey is to go slow and steady because of the distance, terrain and the elements themselves. Injury, exhaustion, dehydration, all the standard risks are high this time and need to be considered. 

Once again I have the persistent feeling that there is something out there to obtain with no real clue as to what that something is. Perhaps it is the journey itself. To take on the challenges to come, pass all of the unknown tests and do it all in front of a live audience. An example, and instance where the time for talking about a path, a Goddess a destiny is over and the opportunity has come to offer up proof through actions. A judgment by deeds rather than words. 

In which case, it's time to stop writing and get back to preparing. The journey begins in 4 hours. You can watch it all unfold HERE.

Might and Magic - The Path of the Pagan Warrior

Long before I developed an interest in dusty ancient texts (or anything else for that matter) I was heavily influenced and immersing myself in the study of various martial arts. Those studies are what likely got me through my teenage years relatively unscathed. It's all I did, all I cared to do. I wasn't interested in getting my first car, drinking, drugs, school, girls... if I wasn't training, I wasn't happy.

I spent 4 years studying on my own until my parents were finally convinced enough to get me into formal training and the Imperial Dragon - a very secret society type of set up hidden away in the attic of an old auto parts building. They didn't advertise, didn't compete for points and trophies, and didn't expect you to do those things either. In fact, the first rule was: Never tell anyone about this place. The thinking was that if you sought them out and found them, you might have the qualities they were looking for. Chief among those qualities: desire.

While studying at the Imperial Dragon I continued to study on my own. I made my own training equipment, obstacle courses, weapons, and my parents even allowed me to design my own dojo in our garage which was laid out in the design of a Buddhist temple. There I studied the myths and culture of the East while beating myself to a pulp. All the while, no one outside of my family members knew anything about it until my Jr. year in high school when I was pulled into letting the cat out of the bag.

My Sensei from the Imperial Dragon was invited to give demonstrations in one of my classes. During the first part of the demonstration he didn't acknowledge me much at all as he gave a quick lesson on meditation. Which I was fine with. The second part of that same demonstration was based on how controlling one's mind aids in controlling the abilities of one's body. To demonstrate this sense of focus and control he wanted to display the standard breaking of the boards. The twist was that he called me up to do it and in doing so let all of my classmates in on my little secret.

At this point I had still never done the breaking technique nor did I care in trying it. I thought the breaking of the boards was a showman thing and I was not all that impressed by the idea showmanship because usually it just invited trouble. But in the dojo or out when your Sensei tells you to do something, you do it.

So, I stood up from my desk and walked to the center of the room, the stunned eyes of all of my classmates locked on me. I was anything but comfortable up there and can remember thinking that it was going to be the most humiliated event of my life if I failed. As my Sensei was prepping everything for the demonstration I whispered to him that I had never done the breaking technique. He whispered back that he would not have called me up there if he didn't think I could do it. He knew I was ready. I wasn't so sure.

He gave an enigmatic explanation of what we were about to show the class and took his place, board in hand, me directly in front of him, fists at the ready. I took one deep breath while staring at the wall behind my Sensei. THAT wall was my target. Not the board, not him. Just the single point on the wall behind them both. It was then that I experienced what I can only describe as tunnel vision. The room, the class, the board all fell away from my sight and all there was in my field of vision was that focal point on the wall. Seemingly in slow motion I threw the strike and stepped into it at the same time. The board snapped loudly, pieces of it flying from my Sensei's grip, exploding across the room. When my senses came flooding back I found myself gripping a fist full of his shirt. A final detail to stop the remaining power of the strike. My classmates all gasped in silence for what seemed like an eternity before they busted out in screams and applause.

Eventually I would take my studies in various martial arts and combine them with western pagan spirituality rather than the more common eastern philosophies of their origin. The psychology behind witchcraft would come into play as a new kind of technique making me into a new kind of weapon. But what I was doing back then was not your neo-pagan, love and light, we're all peaceful crap. In fact, I as doing the exact opposite and doing it all very publicly with absolutely no care for the consequences because the simple truth is: there were none. I was an absolute menace, a nightmare come to life for many. Even the police could do little to even get in my way let alone stop me. And I excelled at terrorizing anyone I took a disliking to. Beating them down both physically and mentally with techniques and notions that today I believe no one (especially a rebelling teenager) should ever possess the knowledge of. Something inside me wanted blood, blood is what it took, and lots of it.

I stayed in that state of mind for nearly 5 years before I finally outgrew it. The story of what changed me is a different tale all together. But what happened in that tale instantly put me on a path of trying to redeem myself for all of the pain and hell I had unleashed into the world.

I know all of the darkness and evil that men are capable of because I have done it all myself. In the years since, I have taken out a hundred times more evil than the victims I created when I was evil myself. But I am also well aware that no matter how immersed in the light and blessings of ancient gods I can be there is still some shred of that old darkness inside me. Still those random thoughts, emotions, desires that come from the demon half pacing and roaring in his cage. Especially when I am challenged or under high levels of stress. It's simply not a good thing for me to get angry. Anger seems to trigger that old darkness, wake it up. And when it wakes it is extremely difficult to keep it in the cage.

I have learned to control it better and use its energy in more creative ways. Working out, taking on the enormous physical challenges of The Journeybook, focusing on my spiritual path, things like that. I have tried to pass all of this knowledge of training, darkness and light down to my younger brother who today is the same age I was when I was dark and holds a kind of darkness of his own.

Before I moved away we would train together constantly. We've been doing it since before he could walk. Today those training opportunities are rare. But we have made it a habit to get together at least once a year for a week or so of training and we film just about every minute of it.

This is the more hidden side of this overall tale. Sure there are ancient gods, artifacts, weapons, incredible landscapes, and unbelievable manifestations that defy imagination. But there is also the training, the violence, the brute force and the pain. Now, for all to see.

The Journeybook - Training Daze 2 (VIDEO)

The Island of the Gods and The Spear of Keravnos

 Without question one of the most influential locations for my story has been a single island that rests in the middle of a river seven miles south of my home.

It was from this island that I took my altar stone, this island where I discovered the Eagle, this island where three bald eagles appeared during the season one finale of The Journeybook and this island where I was to return.

A return that was anything but easy.

Persistent rain, threat of flash floods, unknown dangers on the murky river bottom, no idea what I would encounter if and when I was able to set foot on the island again. In fact, there were so many unknowns that it would take two entire chapters of Journeybook to pull off. One dark, one light.

The first leg of the quest took me through a far more ancient landscape than the island itself. A dark forest of rocky ledges, a shallow streams, caves, and waterfalls.

This was the difficult part of the overall quest. I got lost twice and had to backtrack several miles in order to correct the mistake. The rugged terrain made the correction alone take nearly two hours. With the sun in the western half of the sky before I even reached the forest, things were even darker than they might have been mid-day.

While the dark forest was enchanting in its ancient feel that landscape was difficult to capture on film. Twice the camera fell during filming and while the camera itself didn't suffer any damage the tripod did after tumbling off of one of the slopes when a loose rock fell, hitting one of the tripod legs.

There is a cave in this same forest that I wasn't able to get into because the recent rains I mentioned had flooded the valley that cuts through the heart of the forest where the cave lies. By the time I got into the area the cave had already been flooded.

But... I was able to navigate through the ancient forested landscape and make it safely back into the light, even if the gear did take a beating in the process.

I came out of the dark forest with some of the most stunning images of the season to date and a twisted knee - an injury suffered while making the jump to the lower valley floor. The injury just happened to be captured in the video. You can hear the impact, the instant sting, and see me stumble when I hit the ground.

Island of the Gods - Part One (VIDEO)

This photo (above) is of a shrub that grows on the Island of the Gods itself which I was able to reach after a tenuous river crossing that I took inch by inch - having to keep my body turned sideways against the strong current. If I had tried to face it directly the river current would have swept me downstream. To date, I have not been able to identify these shrubs that grow in the Island of the Gods and no where else in the entire river valley. In all of my travels this is the one and only place I have ever seen them.

The island was pretty much as I remembered it. Here everything seems to be 4 times the average size from the stones themselves that make up the island to the various types of shells and sea glass that liters it. Even these mysterious shrubs grow to incredible heights and girths - somehow able to withstand the frequent flash floods of the temperamental river.

I really had no idea what motivated me to go back to the island aside from some of the most memorable stories in this series coming from it. I simply woke up one day knowing that I had to go back.

Once I made it to the island I set up a spot for my gear and began searching the island in a grid like pattern, looking for whatever it was I was suppose to find with no idea what that something was. Of course I found peculiar stones, large shells, huge chunks of sea glass, a wealth of goose feathers strewn about, and all of the other standards. The island happens to be huge in comparison to most others along the river with a swollen center where the shrubs grow.

It was amid these shrubs near the highest part of the island where I discovered this (above) wedged deep into the sandy crust. A discovery that was captured in the film because I just happened to be recording video of the island when I came across it. The piece is hallow, almost as a spear head but far heavier than one would expect a spear head to be. Still, that was the first thing that came to mind when I discovered it.

I've been working with the piece for weeks now in order to forge what will be called The Spear of Keravnos. 

The piece currently rest inside Hera's Altar Room.

Island of the Gods - Part Two (VIDEO) 

The Coming Storms

A quest had been planned for this coming Sunday ( June 2, 2013) to return to the island where I discovered the 7 Mile Altar Stone and Zeus's Lightning infused Eagle stone. This same island is also where three bald eagles appeared during the journey to place the last of the stone Hera Votives to complete the Ritual of Moira a 22 part, 9 month long ritual meant to release Hera from her bindings by Zeus.

Since these manifestations all came to pass on the same island the island was named "The Island of the Gods" and deemed to be 'holy ground'. I have not been to the island since the encounter with the eagles. Nor had I intended to until I had a vague dream about it which has since infused me with a sense of urgency in getting back there for some reason.

I planned the journey to answer the pull to the island and then a change in the weather came about. 2 days of thunderstorms are expected over the weekend which  prevents the planned journey on Sunday and the rains to come with these storms will increase the flow of the river making the island that much harder to set foot on for a time after the storms themselves pass.

I don't know what lies on that island, what manifestations will present themselves when I return to it, or why the sense of urgency to get there. The appearance of the thunderstorms does delay the journey but it is also a fools errand considering I have been harvesting the essence of such storms and welcome every one of them in order to gain more measures.

Another manifestation has appeared behind the coming storms. The past 2 days have been the hottest of the year thus far. But a cold front coming in behind the line of thunderstorms will drop the temperature and humidity drastically for a few days. The cooling veil of the cold front will make journeying far easier and more comfortable.

So it would seem that I have gained a hindrance from Zeus and a blessing from Hera when it comes to venturing back to the Island. The only thing to do now however, is wait.

The Island of the Gods

The Chain of Fate

Discovering the valley where the Chain of Fate was hidden posed a few challenges due to some of the locations along the way not being on any map. Which I thought odd considering just how many detailed maps are available. The journey was also a race against time. Much of it was done just before sunset and it was well after dark before I made it back to "civilization".

The adventure took me further south that I had anticipated, hooked to the west into a deep river valley where that falls were tucked away under the arches (Right).

And there near the falls, as foretold, was the natural cavity cut into the rock itself by thousands of years of swirling water when the river flooded where I found the golden chain.

It was a moderate climb down the rocky river bank in order to get to the falls themselves. Many others who take on the venture reported it to be a difficult climb down and even harder getting back out.

From the overlook area the rocky slopes look intimidating enough. Most of them are sheer drop-offs of smooth rock face. No footholds, nothing to hand onto. But just to the south of the overlook, hidden in the brush, is a trail snaking down most of the way. A little jump at the bottom and one finds themselves face to face with the cascading falls.

Once I retrieved the Chain of Fate I had to make my way north along the river bank until I came to a narrow passageway where the bedrock had actually split in two. From above this same passageway cannot be seen. The ground appears to be solid. An illusion brought on by the angle and the fact that both chunks of earth have a matching pattern to them. You have to be directly over top of the chasm in order to know it's there. And that chasm is the only way back out without climbing gear. But even using the chasm led me to a secondary rock face I had to climb in order to reach the trail heading out. Luckily the secondary face was broken and covered by thick tree roots that gave me the ability to climb.

The Chain of Fate now rests in the altar room at Hera's feet. Another ritualized test completed bringing me one step closer to my goal.

But passing these tests and attaining the power of lightning are two very different things. From here on the journeys will be much more difficult and far longer. Tests of strength, endurance, and resolve are coming from the landscapes alone. Not to mention what the Gods themselves might throw onto the path.

What is to come next might very well provoke Zeus enough to take notice once again as I prepare to return to the island where I discovered the Seven Mile Altar Stone and the fulgurite Eagle. The next leg of the journey will take me back to the Island of the Gods. The same island where Zeus manifested so prominently during the final quest last year. And unlike all of the other quests I have taken on this season, I have no idea what lies in store or what it is I am to discover on that island.

Hemitheos

"Our current obsession with creativity is the result of our continued striving for immortality in an era when most people no longer believe in an after-life."

~Arianna Stassinopoulos

Last week I had the opportunity to travel back to the very spot where this story began and spend the week in the Gardens of Lisocea which have changed somewhat since my last visit. The central lion head fountain is where Hera left the peacock feather that began this tale is now surrounded by over 100 solar lights. One of which sets right inside the fountain marking the exact spot where the feather was discovered. 

The sacred spot continues to be built upon, changed, and maintained with votives of all kinds added throughout and has come to also include 3 graves within the central garden of the lost and beloved pets of the family who maintains the grounds. 

Over 50 different species of flowers have already been planted throughout the gardens for the season with work also being done to the nearby frog pond and river of flowers that flows into it. As of now, not a single day goes by that the Gardens of Lisocea are not tended by the caretakers. 

This photo (left) was taken near sunset over the central fountain, showing the solar light marker where Hera's feather was discovered years ago. The story of which was recounted by the family while setting around a campfire on the third night I was there.

Many spiritual people can recall the events that led them to the path they have found themselves on. Not so many have a photo of the exact spot where that path began, the spot where everything in their lives changed (for better or worse), a spot considered to be sacred - not only by those on the path but to all those who have heard the tale and believe. 

This week long visit back to where this very story began marks a turning point and insights into what is to come. Gifts and votives for Hera's Altar Room were brought back from the trip including a rare hand blown crystal wine glass from Romania. While there I also had the rare opportunity to film a lightning storm which passed over. Oddly, there was no rain and little thunder. Just a grande display of lightning which I was able to film and include into a recap video for The Journeybook titled Hemitheos. (See Below)

Both the visit to the gardens and the new video mark a turn in the video documentary of this journey as I prepare to head west, back into the wilds, in one of the most action packed adventures of the season. The quest is to find and obtain a golden chain votive that long ago was dedicated to Lachesis - the second Sister of Fate and guarded by a giant spider. 

The golden, crystal encrusted talisman is thought to have the ability to cloak the fate of anyone who wears it, rendering them invisible to oracles as well as the Sisters themselves. While the talisman does not have the power to change ones fate it does offer the opportunity for the bearer to change it themselves through their cloaked actions.

But Lachesis did not make the ritual trails to obtain her golden chain easy. It is hidden somewhere in a forested labyrinth, in a hole that was naturally carved into the earth itself by a mighty waterfall, deep within a river valley that is surrounded by dead falls and crumbling shale cliffs. A hard place to find, a hard test to come.

The Long Road

In just a few short hours I will be heading off on a road trip that will take me all the way back to the very fountain, setting in the center of the gardens it took me nearly 4 years to build, where this very story began. It was there, in that same garden where I woke up one morning to find a single peacock feather unexplainably lying in that lion head fountain. The same feather that crowns the entry way into my altar room, looking down on me as I write these very words.

Hard to imagine such a tiny thing having the ability to begin such an epic journey. If that feather had never appeared my tale would have never taken the direction it did. I might not be so connected to Hera, this blog might not exist for the world to see, and so many countless adventures might never have been had.

From that feather came all of it. This written account, The Journeybook videos that chronicle my journey beyond the written word, the digital art, stone carvings, grande altar room, my defiance against Zeus. It has permeated nearly every aspect of my existence from the mundane to the unbelievable. The later being the motivation for the video series. Having it captured on video and thousands of photos does tend to lend to credibility. In this age people like to watch adventure such as this more than simply reading about them. They want to see it. And thus far I have done pretty well at giving them that opportunity.

My path was of course raging on long before this all came to pass. It took me the better part of 20 years to become what I am today and be chosen for this journey. Prior to discovering the feather and finding myself on this quest I had little to do with the old Gods, didn't really care for any of them. I was raised in a rustic countryside environment, came out of the forest to become a well known warrior in the world wide pagan community. From warrior I rose to become a pagan king. Challenged by over 20 men over the years for my crown and title and to this day that crown and title remain undefeated. As king I created one of the most powerful, impactful, revolutionary, and nearly undefinable pagan dynamics to ever exist. Unlike the modern re-constructionist who tend to the lambs I only tended to the lions.
Thousands of them came and over the years thousands of them fell. In spite of everything they believed to be true about themselves they simply could not endure. Until finally, there was no one left and I sat there on that throne all but alone. The great hall I ruled over and all of its people had fallen. Yet, I remain.

I'm not always sure what it is that drives me on beyond the limits of all others. Perhaps it is fearing the shame that might come in leaving such a tale abandoned and unfinished. Perhaps it has nothing to do with me at all. It may not be my will pushing me forward down a path I can scarcely see nor hardly believe myself.

This morning, as I set here before the Altar of Hera, preparing for the long journey back to where this all started I can vividly see the path behind me. I can see every loss, feel every pain and the kind of exhaustion that only comes from traveling a path too far, for too long, and knowing that you are still no where near the end of it - you never will be. The beginning and the end no longer matter. There is only the climb.

If I succeed in what is to come just this year I will have bested Zeus himself, won the heart of Hera, will sip honeyed wine made from a thousand thunderstorms, and hold the power of lightning in the palm of my hand. All for the world to see in word, video, and photographic glory every single step of the way.

And then what?

You see? It's not the Gods that put the questions in my mind.
It's eternity.

The Gift of Poseidon

On May 7, 2013 the journey turned westward along the coast until we came to a place where the God  Poseidon holds great influence. It was there that the long path traveled across the lands found lands end. The next adventure would put me under the sea.

It would also be the first chapter in The Journeybook to be named directly after one of the Gods. Something that might seem odd considering the entire tale involves Hera, Zeus, and myself  and yet it would be Poseidon - a seemingly unrelated God - who would come to change the impact and range of everything.

It's still unclear which side Poseidon favors. Hera and I or his brother Zeus. But the gift Poseidon was to grant might also be seen as him being neutral about the whole thing. The tribute required by Poseidon in order to gain access to the sea realms was costly but the benefits that would come of it would be of equal measure.

This photo (left) is but one of the 75 stills I took while filming this chapter of The Journeybook and this tiny creature packed a powerful punch when it came time to post the photos - instantly becoming the single most popular image taken from the entire series to date.

The release of the photo manifested in a massive boom and is quickly circling around the net in multiple forums, creating a huge increase in the viewer range of the series. A story isn't much of anything unless it is being told.

Attentions are being draw with every step I take. Every day I get closer and closer to taking on the battle that many are already holding their breath to see. The gift of Poseidon would come to be a net cast over tens of thousands of people who would turn their eyes and become witnesses to this very tale.

Many of the landscapes and images captured in this journey are ethereally beautiful, haunting, and enchanting. It has been a relatively calm adventure thus far this season. But that sense of calm wont last. A very long path still lies ahead and that path will not always be beautiful nor will the challenges to come upon it be easy.

Only one quest westward remains before the turn south and the long march begins to the end of Zeus.

 

The Fountain of Neaera

To the north, near the shoreline, there is a winding path that runs along a creek, 'round a lagoon, and into a garden that is warm and bursting with life no matter the season. At the center of this immortal garden rest a fountain belonging to the nymph Neaera. And there, hidden in among the forever blooming flowers, is also an effigy of Pan who is said to frequent the garden himself to gather drops of the enchanted water.

I'm set to travel to this garden tomorrow in order to collect a vile of the same waters and bring it back to the Altar of Hera. The vile of water from the Fountain of Neaera is but one ingredient in a potion that I'll write of later.

The coming adventure is in stark contrast to the rusty, drab landscape seen when obtaining the Hammer of Hephaestus. The forested path and hidden garden are the personification of the enchantments (and dangers) of classical beauty. It is the type of place that inspires lamenting poetry, where travelers begin to dream dreams and see the apparitions of loves that never existed and almost were. The type of place that assaults the heart and lulls the soul with sweet music. Enticing one to lay down and sleep in order to dream until death. An enchanted isle of precious moments, as intoxicating and warm as the arms of a beautiful woman.

Neaera's enchantments over her fountain and the garden that surrounds them manifests as whispering voices on the breeze, hidden, illusive, as if it were the flowers themselves that were quietly singing the gentle lullaby. Makes the mind wonder of hidden mysteries and soft, delicate shadows. Makes the heart aches for hearth and home. But also awakens something much more primal deep within the soul.

Neaera's smile sets fire to the resolve of men. Burning them up from the inside out. They see her reflection in the waters of the fountain. So crisp, so pure. They feel an overwhelming need to run to her, to embrace her, to feel her warm touch. But the pool is unforgiving, unkind, cold. It breaks the apparition with icy fingers and those who have lost their hearts to fair Neaera drown in their sorrows long before they drown in the liquid crystal waters of the fountain where their dreams appeared so clearly.

No fault to fair Neaera for the weaknesses within the hearts of men.

How often are such themes repeated throughout myths and the world? The dangers of beauty and the downfalls brought forth by lust. It was even the downfall (and rise) of Great Pan who's honor and effigy I will also capture on film within these gardens. There is no heavenly light so pure, nectar so sweet, nor poision so deadly as that of a beautiful woman. That kind of undeniable beauty that invokes both passion and hatred, weakens and strengthens, offers hope and can take all hope away. It can make the souls of men immortal, their power otherworldly. And in the very next moment, can scatter them like burning leaves.

Beautiful, intoxicating, fair Neaera who's enchanted fountain is the sum of infinite kisses and the long warm embrace. Kind only to the heart that's true, honorable, worthy. Who's will is stronger than the fires of lust - to be cooled and tempered by the icy spring.

To such she grants her kiss, her blessing, her healing touch. One small measure is all that is required. Drops and nothing more to carry one through for the rest of their days. Ever remembering the dream, forever feeling the glowing warmth from within.

A nymph to be sure. Full of allure and desire, passion and love. A magical creature as is any beautiful form that inspires poetic notions and life itself to burst forth around it simply because life itself feels that same primal pull. Always hungry, always needing more, always desiring to be ever closer to that golden glow. To feel the warmth of the sun reflected off of her skin, to feel the light that radiates only from her eyes, to feel the entire world soften at her slightest touch, to know the unspeakable meaning of love - found only in a kiss.

Dangerous.
Vital.

A long embrace before the long journey to come.

For Glory

As eventful as writing this story can be, more times than not weeks will pass before there is really anything worth recounting. This is not the telling of a tale that is based on a singular experience or muse. It didn't happen "one day" or even over the course of a few months. It's been going on now for years.

But, in all of that time, I have never hesitated or lost the motivation to keep going. It's become part of normal, everyday life. Ingrained into everything from work to play. Always there, always happening bit by bit.

It has made life more interesting and colorful. No where near common, never dull, never mundane, hardly meaningless. There is suffering, hardships, wounds and scars. There is the outcastishness that comes with the part. Stories for blogs and private journals. Never really fitting for idol conversation over coffee. Entertaining in one light I suppose. The Journeybook interactive page where the video series is primarily presented remains active enough. The video collection for this very story alone contains nearly 90 entries with viewers daily. They read, they watch, they remain silent.

It is a rare thing in the pagan community to see stories such as this. The ever growing number of people who lay claim to a connection with old gods. Most of them lost, confused, alone. Searching for some sign of hope in a darkening grey world. Sad, shallow, half-hearted efforts - no stories to tell.

The Spring rains have come, slowing things to a crawl, reminding me of how exhausted I am. The kind of exhaustion that only the path can bring. A kind that sleep will never resolve. A long road traveled, the end still far away. The exhaustion comes from that knowing. A constant testing - the gods asking how deep your faith goes, how boldly you might back your claims on them. Many fail the test.

They comes into this with all of the energy and passion of a renewed soul. They burn out quickly. They don't have it in them to endure, to remain focused, to stay driven. They still make there claims but there is no longer effort there. No more rituals, no more energy, nothing left to say, no will left to search. They fall silent, apathetic, forgotten.

Daily - the candles are lit, oils and incense burned, new votives offered, weapons sharpened and polished, stones carved, maps studied, pieces written, photos taken, video edited and presented to the eyes of the world. Every day, year after year, tale after tale even when there is no tale to tell. Amidst it all - time capsules, most made by and for whatever community I might find myself in. I travel to them, add in tokens, letters, pieces of this same story that will not be seen by mortal eyes again for another 200 years. Long after I am dead and gone, long after this very recounting and the video documentations cease to exist less it be recreated over and over again by the hands and voices of someone else.  But the stones were carved, tantalizing pieces locked away. Luring, enticing, full of questions and wonder. An investment into the curiosities of men. A thought that what we do today will be the myths and archeological quests of the future.

A farm boy who became a pagan king. A king who defied a God for the love of a Goddess. A journey spanning thousands of miles full of beasts, magic, mystery, unexplainable manifestations, mortal wounds, and epic victory.

Classic. Timeless. Immortal.

A life well spent. 

Even as I am writing this hundreds of new photos from this story have been sent out into the world in different places and left to the imaginations of whomever might lay eyes on them. From there they will spread out. Copied, shared, renewed over and over again with no further effort on my part. an advantage of the technological age. easy today to scatter the pieces like leaves on the wind until they encircle the entire world.

And then there is you, dear reader, who happened upon this be either chance or destiny and have read this far from whatever distant land you are in. I will show you things you have never seen before and never will again. You've discovered a tale that will never have an ending even if I were to die today. I've already traveled too far. Death would only deepen the tale.

Bound in mortality and  life, by year's end I will still hold lightning in my hands and the event will echo like thunder. I will have turned rain into wine and drink of storms from my cup. I will have put my pagan crown up against the might and will of Zeus and I will have defeated him. I will do all of this in front of a live audience who will witness and be a part of each step in the journey. I will present it to the eyes of the world in every medium. I will be filled with pride in the accomplishment.

And then, I will still have to go back to doing dishes, laundry, cleaning my house, and pretending to be a normal guy... as best I can.

Winter will come again. The months of questing over for a time. And in those dark winter months I will grow restless and begin to dream of adventures once more. This is the path and the life it brings.

Endless. Everlasting. Renewed like the seasons themselves.

A beautiful, glorious life. Too rich not to share.

The Hammer of Hephaestus

"Hard to fight the Olympian strength for strength."

Hephaestus, The Rage of Achilles, p.IXV II 

And so it was that the journey continued onward, heading first north through the valley of forges. Many of which have long since been abandoned and left to ruin. A rocky, reeking, poisoned, narrow stretch of land, stained in the blood of iron itself, going on for miles. Hard to travel, harder still to capture.

It was in this vile valley where there lay an island of ivy beneath a high bridge, just to the east of the river. Into the ivy a concrete stairway with crescent moon landings and there at the top, silver and shining with a gleaming black handle lay the Hammer of Hephaestus which in its hard kindness brought brilliant color to the landscape.

Why north when the ultimate goal lay far to the south? Far down the river valley, beyond that great waterfalls where the Sisters of Fate dwell, far beyond the climb and deep into the forested ancient sea bed where the earth itself was ripped apart in some ancient battle with the elements and never ending pull from the heart of the earth. Why north? Why this wretched valley of iron and waste to claim a forgotten hammer of the lame God? 

"Hard to match the Olympian strength for strength." Hephaestus said. It would take more, much more and as the journey continued Zeus himself made it a point to have his attentions felt. Conjuring up day after day of thunderstorms and hard rains. But he had manifested the tempests too late, his move was seen before he had made it. 

North, beyond the iron valley of the forges, lay a long stretch of blessed green where garden after garden, full of fountains, flowers of every kind, and ancient trees represent the great nations of the world and the many cultures that came to tame this land. It is in the stretch of life where rests a garden crafted by Greece itself. 

Two Doric columns frame the garden's entrance, opening into a plaza containing a reflecting pool, offering a perspective on a wall and pylons, which symbolize the wall of the Parthenon. Stone tablets on that wall and pylons are inscribed with the names of prominent Greek artists, philosophers, writers, and scientists: Solon, Ictinus, Callicrates, Phidias, Aristophanes, Pericles, Euripides, Sophocles, Aeschylus, Homer, Praxiteles, Zeuxis, Apelles, Myron, Lysippus, Scopas, Sappho, Socrates, Anaxagoras, Aristotle, Plato, Aristarchus, Demosthenes, Pindar, Archimedes, Herodotus, Xenophon, Thucydides, Euclid, Hippocrates, Ptolemy, Pythagoras, Polycletus, and El Greco.

Framing the symbolic wall are two paths that encircle it, leading to sandstone terraces, lavishly planted with ilex, coloneastus, myrtle, and sweetbay, with cedars and Lombardy poplars giving the impression of cypresses. 

The Hammer of Hephaestus is to be taken there. It's strength combined with the sacred waters of the fountain and a three measures of the blessed waters taken. The first measure it to be brought back to the Altar of Hera as a votive offering. The second measure is to be used in an ritual anointing - to make the flesh strong, the will - hard as iron, and award strength as fierce as the Hammer of Hephaestus itself. The final measure is to be placed in the altar room until the final journey is to be undertaken. Cool, healing waters imbued with immeasurable blessings to aid in the quest.

The journey is taking us counterclockwise around the 60 mile radius of the stone votives circle cast last year. Symbolic of traveling back in time, relearning, gathering strength, increasing endurance, making amends for the past defeat. A test of the will, a test of the heart. Long, hard, exhausting. But not so much as the long path that lay behind - the year after year of this singular theme that began with something as delicate as a feather. 

A long way left to travel with every step in defiance of Zeus, weakening his ancient bond on Hera. Zeus takes note, sends forth his storms, thunder, and lightning. And with the coming of the torrents a crystal bowl, taken from the Altar of Hera is placed in the rain. A single measure for each storm cast - taken and placed bowl by bowl, storm by storm, into a sacred vase. Once full the waters taken from Zeus's storms will be combine with the waters taken from the garden fountain, transformed, turned into golden honey wine - lightning and thunder in a bottle. Seal with blood red hard wax and presented to Hera. 

The journey, the sacrifices, the votives, the recounting of the tale for the eyes of the world to witness old Gods on new streets - Hera grows stronger with each tribute and Zeus weaker with each step of defiance. His conjurings and manifestations shrugged off, claimed, bent and twisted to advantage. Cunning, peerless, unheard of in the modern age. 

A fitting end.

Rise From The Ashes

When Zeus took it upon himself to interfere with the quest to break the bonds of Hera the world watched as the quest ended in defeat at the very foot of the forested hill where the final Heraian Votive was to be placed. But in spite of the astonishing manifestations and actions of the King of the Gods this would not be the end of the journey to release the Goddess from her ancient binding.

On March 30, 2013 the quest began anew and The Journeybook chronicled the rise from the dirt and ashes of defeat, great sacrifice, and a climb out of the river valley where the new story was to find its beginning.

The bridge in time between the defeat and the rise landed me on the very river bank where the bronze statue of Hera is taken on the Spring Equinox every year to be washed in the waters of the river.

Defeated, covered in dirt and rubble, it was necessary to offer up sacrifices in the form of ash and flame.


Sacrifices to the Gods must be something of rarity and value. It is the very definition of the word 'sacrifice' - to give up something of worth. As an offering to Hera in light of the defeat the altar ash, collected from the votive burnings in the Altar Room over a three year period were given up. Mixed with the dirt and rubble in the opening sequence of The Ashes of Prometheus Video. At the same moment, off in the forest, an iconic blue rose waited alone in a landscape that had been laid to waste by a massive flood. The tress splintered and strewn about, the land covered in a think layer of sediment and sand. The blue rose was the only color in this dusty and drab landscape.

Like a phoenix, as I rose from the earth the blue rose began to burn. A life for a life. The great symbol, reaching far into the past, was taken by flame so that a new flame could be lit from its sacrifice.

As the flames consumed the blue rose, unleashing its memory and power, the renewed quest to finish the long, complex ritual to free Hera and defeat Zeus began. And what would rise from the ashes of sacrifice was something new to this story. Something that Zeus himself knows all too well...

 ... the power of vengeance.

King vs King

 The Journeybook is the ongoing interactive project that not only records many of the events written about in this very chronicle but also brings others into the story as both witnesses and philosophical debaters. There is a vast number of people out there who make and swear to  lot of things. But when it comes to offering up visual proofs, when it comes to walking their talk, they come up short.

My relationship with Hera which led to the creation of The Heraian and The Journeybook Network on YouTube where this story plays out in front of the world  is both simple and radical.  Surely it is an unbelievable story to many, until they see it playing out in the near 100 videos already included in The Journeybook. The first season of which, chronicled the adventure of placing 22 hand carved stone votives to the Goddess Hera in various locations as part of a lengthy ritual that defied Zeus. A defiance that did not go unnoticed or unanswered for. I did, in point of fact, fail in the quest to place the final votive and complete the ritual in the final chapter of the season. A failure which was also well documented here. I have no shame in this. It happened, it was recorded, an none of us involved in this story are entirely invincible.

My story is an anomaly in the modern Age. Paganism in general is on the rise the world over in countless different flavors and interpretations. But no one else has dared take on a path such as this one and even within classical Greek myth those who aligned themselves with Hera and defied Zeus in one way or another did not end up with a "happy ever after". In fact, some of the most sadistic punishments ever conceived came from the mind of an offended Zeus. I know those cautionary tales well. I simply don't care.

As the events of last year played out, as votive after votive to Hera was placed, and I came closer and closer to pulling off the ritual my own realm and people were all but annihilated. Once the most powerful, feared, and revolutionary force in the global pagan community has fallen to ruin where only a precious few struggle to hang on. While I was out questing for the glory of Hera my world and all that I had suffered for and loved fell to apathy and betrayal. By the time the final votive was to be placed my people were expecting a victory and instead they saw me fall just 3 miles short of the end after suffering an abdominal injury and enduring freezing temperatures in the middle of a forest with no shelter.

Following the defeat I was insatiably angry and full of rage. I had been defeated after traveling over 1,000 miles in my quest, my world and people lay in ruin, and at the center of it all stood Zeus - the God who I had defied at the side of his reluctant Queen.

It was to Hera which I turned following the assault and from Hera which new power came forth. Holding to the idea that all not only had to be written but shown this new strength was also filmed and displayed before the eyes of the world, quickly becoming one of the most viewed and awe inspiring videos in the entire story.

For the past 5 months I have been in training to hone my strengths and abilities in order to continue on with my quest and this very story. As of this writing we are only 2 days away (March 30th) from the first quest of the Second Season of The Journeybook where this story will continue to unfold before the eyes of the world in a new series of videos and thousands of new photos along with the written account that is this very blog.

Not only will The Journeybook reveal stunning landscapes as we quest to place the final votive and rob Zeus of his power - breaking his bond over Hera - but it will display and illustrate abilities that come only from this level of devotion to a singular Goddess. I will not only write and talk about it, I will show you and I will do it all LIVE.

I could, like many others, have these experiences and keep them to myself. Never offering such proofs of what I claim and write of. But what would be the point in having them if they are not shared experiences? However unbelievable it is a story that should be and needs to be told. You do have to see it in order to believe it. 

I am a pagan who came from nothing, rose up to become a King, created a spiritual pagan dynamic and realm that is unmatched and peerless, gained the favor and love from an individual Goddess who I have honored and glorified with unprecedented passion and devotion, and defied the will of Zeus to the point that I have made a clear and welcomed enemy of him.

Zeus represents everything I have come to hate about the world of men and the petty nature of the Gods. His affronts to Hera and misogyny will be answered for and it will be me who passes down the punishment in Hera's name.

Anyone who watches The Journeybook beyond the written accounts of this blog will witness a battle between a Pagan King and the King of the Gods. And we will battle it out until only one of us remains.

I have already publicly announced that I am putting my title as the King of the Denians on the line in the Second Season of The Journeybook. If Zeus answers my challenge and manifests to face off with me again he will either end my 17 year reign (and this very story) or the world will bear witness to me setting before them with Zeus's power in my own hands.

Defied, robbed of his power, his bond over Hera broken, Zeus himself - the ancient King of the Gods - will lay defeated at the hands of a mortal who fought, suffered, and sacrificed to become something else. But it is not the power of Zeus that is to be my prize for victory. This is not a quest or battle for power. It is a battle for the hand and heart of Hera herself.

To win the hand of Hera Zeus himself must be defeated. And the battle between mortal and God to see that happen is about to unfold before the eyes all all.