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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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