Modern Practices - Deadly Immortality

Nightshade - Upon Hera's Altar are three glass vials. The first vial holds a number of dried Greek olive pits, the second holds a blood colored measure of the potion used during the Ritual of the Shielded-Warrior during the lunar eclipse winter solstice in 2010. And the third holds a deadly concoction of Nightshade.

Pictured here is the Nightshade during "processing". In this practice only four branches of wild nightshade are to be cut at a time. The blossoms and berries are removed first and place on the altar plate. Then, the leaves are sorted. From the first branch a number of "perfect leaves" are press dried between two stones. Another number of them are placed along with the berries and blossoms on the altar plate. The rest of the selected leaves are placed in an open urn to dry on their own.

The three remaining branches that are left whole are placed into vases on the left and right side of the altar and allowed to cross over the center.

The leaves and blossoms of the Nightshade dry much faster than the berries. As they dry they are crushed in a marble mortar and pestle and the powder is then mixed with half dried green and red berries creating a paste. The paste is then spread on a second plate to dry before it is crushed a second time in the mortar and allowed to set again until the next new moon.

On the night of the new moon the Nightshade powder is then placed into it's glass vial and allowed to remain open until the full moon. Only then is it capped and sealed. By the end of the ritual to create just one vial of "Heraian Nightshade" nearly two months may have passed.


The three vials represent the Sisters of Fate. The seeds of birth, the blood of life, and the dust of death. In a ritual that combines the three "the birth is crushed, the blood is spilled, and death is released".

In a later part of the same ritual enters one of the most mysterious and well guarded secrets of the ancient world. This being pure pomegranate juice.

The pomegranate was once the most sacred and most popular votive offered to the Goddess Hera. Myths abound about this sacred fruit the world over. Visitors to the Temple of Hera would never speak of nor write about it's power aside from one illumination that the juice of the pomegranate temporarily robs a God or Goddess of their immortality yet has the opposite effects on demigods and mortals, temporarily making them immune to the influence of the Fates or will of the Gods.

But when combined with cows milk the metaphysical effects of pomegranate juice are altered. Both are sacred to Hera and when combined become symbolic of her breast-milk ("kholos") or "The Rage of Hera" which, within the myths, are what gave demigods such as Achilles their ability and power. Once inside a demigod or mortal body the potion manifests itself as a "venom" and consumes the heart of the one "inflicted". Like any venom, once the milk of the Goddess is consumed by anyone it will remain in their veins for the rest of their lives.


In other myths, like that of Persephone, the pomegranate is considered to be a fruit of the underworld. It was the food used to trick Persephone into becoming the unwilling wife of Hades. Persephone ate three of the blood red segments of the fruit while in the Underworld and therefore must return to the underworld for 3 months out of every year.

This of course is the mythical reasoning behind the winter months when nothing grows as Persephone is locked away in the underworld and her mother searches for her.


Pomegranate votives were the most common gift left at the Temples of Hera up until about the 6th century B.C.E. when the offerings suddenly stopped. Scholars believe that this was around the same time that Hera went through a "mortal metamorphosis". Meaning that it was around this time that they began to stop seeing her as the all powerful Queen of the Gods, love above all, and began to see her as the more sub-servant wife of Zeus. Zeus, at the time, was not as highly respected or feared as the King of the Gods. Hera had many more followers and influences on the realms of man as an earth/river Goddess than Zeus did as the lord of the skies. But even after their supposed "marriage" which some might interpret as a play for power by Zeus or the early beginnings of a masculine dominated society where women had their rights and influence all but stripped away.

Pure pomegranate juice is a potent brew all to itself. Its a very bold flavored blood red juice that can have a hint of bitterness. It also does not store long. Once opened it should be drank within 10 days. Otherwise, it will begin to ferment itself.

The importance and symbolism of the pomegranate here reflects that of ancient times before the metamorphosis.  It is a common drink, votive offering, and ritual component in anything dealing with Herain the modern world.

Sacred Spaces - A Peek Inside My Altar Room

(Doorway to the Altar of Hera)

(The Altar Room)

Recently, in the Den, Zech brought up a great topic on the differences between indoor and outdoor sacred spaces. I consider myself extremely lucky to have the best of both in the most serenity filled room of our home and I thought I'd take the opportunity to give everyone a peek at some of the things inside my altar room.

Above is a photo of the double folding glass doors that divide the Altar room from the rest of the house. It is located On the south side (front) of the house, extending the front wall to the edge of the front porch which is to the left of this photo. Just in front of the photo is the front primary flower bed which also holds herbs, three watermelon vines, is backed by a panel of purple morning glories and crowned with 5 lilies. At the back (center) of that flower bed stands a large peacock. On the west side, tall ivy and flower vines cover the west wall and the edging is allowed to grow wild to help support the birds, squirrels, and the groundhog that lives under our neighbor's front steps.

The room itself sets just over 4ft above the ground with a large crawl space under it that is accessible through a hinged panel on the west side of the house. The loose sandy soil that lies beneath the Altar Room is the most likely place that someone in the distant future will uncover hand engraved stones that offer names, dates, and one to two line fragments of story referencing old Gods, magic, and immortality.

The East, South, and West walls of the room are primarily made of panel windows that open in the same manner as a cupboard door with the original latch locks on both the top and bottom of the windows which opens three entire walls up to the outside and offers direct light any time of day (or moonlight by night). And the North wall hosts two 3 foot solid strips of wall before breaking for the wide double doors that lead into the shadowed living room that is decorated in antiques, family photos, and accented with glass tables, crystal, and bronze.

(Greek Treasures)

Philosophers and sages throughout the years have played with attempting to describe metaphysical connections to lands we have never stepped foot on. And I have a few of them, all of which are located in central or western Europe. A remnant of a past life, an illusive dream, unbreakable bonds with the people I have met there, or something mused into my mind and heart from a mundane source...who knows? The point is not in the knowing but in the enchantment. And, for me, these lands are enchanting. The way they once lived, the modern approach to life in general, the poetic notes that changed the world over dozens of times all came from here. And any time I get the chance to get something from this land I tend to jump on it. If it was hand made and imported (or otherwise inspired) from Greece I want it in my Altar Room. Having those pieces of the land itself is somehow important to me and makes the illusive dream of what once was seem more real--physical links in a stronger chain of connection with the homeland of my patron Goddess.

This "chubby Pan" statue was one of the first things inspired by Greek myth that I was gifted.

My mother actually received this statue from my Elementary School Principle who had been following a pagan topic newspaper series I was writing back in 2002-2003. The newspapers came to call the nearly 100 editorial series "The Year of the Witch". It was the first time in local history that pagans seemed to be coming out of the woodwork and "witchcraft" became a common and locally excepted word. The public loved following along with the series in the two local newspapers and sales of those papers went up almost 18% during that run. The series is kept safe now on microfilm in the local library's Heritage Room as well as the county museum.

The statue was a gift from my old 5th grade teacher and Principle for a job well done by way of community involvement and education. She said that I had "turned into the teacher". Which was a nice sentiment. But, my mom being my mom refused to take the statue from her for nothing. So, she gave her 50 cents for it. Today, this same statue retails for about $100.00 unpainted.

This cup is one of two 24k gold trimmed, hand made cups that rest on the Altar itself. They are the very first actual imported items I ever received.

I came across these at a yard sale and bought them both for $2. After a meticulous cleaning and cleansing the cups became side pieces for my Altar over the years.

They have thick bottoms that make them heavier than they appear and are numbered. On the bottom of the cup is a decorative bordered "S" and they read "Hand made in Greece in 24k Gold". I have number 8 and 14 in the collection along with a matching small vase that is simply numbered 124.

The only time that I ever actually use these cups is for extremely special and rare occasions and the only thing that ever goes into them is sweet dark red wine (which is rare in and of itself). One cup goes to me and the other to Hera. Her's will rest on the Altar for a bit before being poured out into the earth in offering.

This is Hera's "Tiny Treasures" Offering Plate. The plate is milk glass, trimmed in gold, and has a wheat pattern gold ring surrounding its center.

Wheat was referred to as "The flower of Hera" in the late Bronze Age, for some reason that eludes me because I don't consider it a flower at all. But who am I to argue with the ancients?

The milk glass itself is sympathetic to the myths of Hera nursing mortals and demi-gods such as Hercules and Achilles to imbue them with her power, or as in the case of Achilles, her rage, which is one of the blessings that made him such a great warrior.

On this plate is where I place items such as river stones, polished glass from the beach, bits of pear or willow bark, flowers, or any other tiny treasure I might come across on one of my many adventures.  It is also where I place the two necklaces I never leave the house without every night before going to bed. And always present at the center of the plate is the red box that holds "The Eye of Hera" itself from many of the Denian Myths that you can find in the Den Archive.

"The Wings of Icarus" -- A gift from my beloved Braegan, are proudly displayed on the east side of the north wall of the Altar Room. Every "Angel" should have wings right?

In the Myths, Icarus was the one who was linked (along with his father) in creating the Labyrinth of the Minotaur on Crete. Both were imprisoned by King Minos and Icarus's father fashioned two pair of wings to help them escape.

But, despite being warned, Icarus flew too close to the sun and it melted the wax holding the wings together. Thus, he plummeted to his death. His wings are a reminder of the hidden dangers of being over-ambitious.

On the opposite wall of the Wings of Icarus rests this newly included hand painted copper plate. Another actual imported item that was made in the 1950s.

We found this item just this past weekend while we were out on one of our adventures. I thought it was proper to have a hand made Greek import displaying a Greek Temple in the Altar room. Can't get much closer than that! And the common decorative border on this plate also matches the border on the gold cups and vase that rest on the other side of the room.

This Greek style plaster column rests on the left side of the Altar itself and is a display of simplicity.

For some reason the colors: purple, white, pink, yellow, blue, and gold have always been present somewhere in my dealing with Hera.

The peacock feather accent is common throughout the room with a total of 7 peacock feathers and one statuette present near or on the most sacred items.Two rest on the Altar itself which I cannot display here.

The notion behind the peacock feather relates to the Myth that Hera placed the eyes of Argus (Hera's hundred eyed giant) into the feathers of one of her favorite birds.

Argus was Hera's "spy" and whatever he looked upon she could also see. So, by placing peacock feathers in the Altar Room (or anywhere else in your home) you are pretty much offering the Goddess a free peek at anything that goes on there. Here, Hera's eyes are always watchful.

This is Charlotte, my 11 year old rose haired tarantula in her newly designed "Sisters of Fate" inspired tank.

Charlotte is the spider priestess of the Sisters, spinning, measuring, and cutting her silken threads of time and fate over green glass decorative stones, a small Greek vase, the "Sphere of Time" (which was my very first scrying glass) my gold "Time Teaser" necklace that is inlaid with crystals surrounding a clock face, a golden ring that I discovered on one of my adventures, and another necklace that was a gift from one of my own three sisters.

This many eyed, stinging haired, nearly one inch fanged guardian of the time treasures is a constant muse and aid in many of the things I write, spin, and plan in both the Denian Universe and life in general. A reminder that the past sometimes weaves the future.

These are just some of the many items in my Altar Room dedicated to Hera and it is added to, cleaned, cleansed, redecorated, and visited on a daily basis for the burning of candles and incense. The room is also home to three potted plants, has a scattering of sea salt and white sage in and on nearly everything, has a place for putting coins to be tossed into the river on certain occasions for certain things, an antique trunk where I keep all of my hand written journals and favorite books, a chest that holds rare photos of my son and daughter, and so many other hidden wonders that it would be nearly impossible to put into just one blog.

All of this in the love and service of the ever present and rather over-protective Queen of the Gods who has guided and empowered me so that I am able to do all the things that I do. The more I learn about her the more I learn about myself. This Altar Room is the sacred testament of an epic life, a legendary journey, and an ancient Goddess walking new streets.

Today, just about everything that I am able to cook up for the Denian Universe is mused or conceived of in this one room. Both Braegan and I are extremely protective and territorial of this room. Visitors have access to every other room in the house but this room is a different matter entirely. We have only allowed family members in here twice and they are about as far as you can get from being pagan. But even they describe the smell and feel of the room to that of a church. And coming from non-pagan people that is about as good as a compliment as you can get and  sign that you must being doing something right. No matter what the path or what one believes there is something spiritual here. And it has been nothing but a blessing that permeates every aspect of our lives.

Blessed are those in the eyes of the Gods -- Pitied are those that need them.

Map of the Pagan Afterlife

I've always had a strange fascination with antique maps, the older
the better. And if you go back far enough into history you will find
maps of a world that look so unlike the one we know today that, for a
moment, you think it is a work of fiction. But man has always drawn
the world the way they see it. From the planet we live on to the
lands of our dreams where maps of fictional lands often invoke more
mystery and wonder-lust in us than the reality based ones do.
My love for such maps led me to crafting a few of my own. After a bit
of kitchen witchery I made up a brew that would stain and stiffen
normal paper and make it look like the antique pictures I always
enjoyed glaring at. The stain is easy to infuse with different herbs
and oils to give it texture, durability, and even scent.
These simple pieces of art are decorative and enchanting and if the
brew is right you don't even have to draw the images yourself. A good
printer and good printing paper will set the moder day cyber-witch on
a path that will rip anything out of the realm of fiction and make it
real, with a pagan look and feel that is one of a kind.
But one map I have never come across or created myself was a map of
the Pagan Afterlife.
The vision is of a single land, broken on the east cost in a series
of coves and small islands where towering white statues of many
different gods loom like sentinels looking out to the realm beyond
the sea, into the mist of eternity and to the mortal world. These
statues are so massive that anything mankind has ever created pales
in comparison to their sheer size and mass. At the base of each
colossus is a temple, a home away from home for the patron Deity
symbolized above.
Just off the coast line to the east begins the Elysian Fields. A vast
open plain glittered with wildflowers and hidden pathways through the
briers. The Elysian Fields run in a narrow column from north to south
and are cracked in a jagged line just off of the center by the
rippling river Acheron. The Elysian Fields are peppered with small
villages with dome-like houses that are dark brown in contrast to the
colors of summer and the tans of autumn. Each village is often a
necessary stop to all travelers who are wondering through the Fields
because of the long distance from one end to the other. But the more
experienced traveler has discovered that in this world there are
faster ways to travel than walking. It's just not as scenic.
On the far north of the Elysian Fields is a small shadowy land known
as Tartarus. Tartarus, unlike the plains of the Elysian Fields is
hilly and littered with large grey stones. A few tangled trees
struggle to survive in the rocky soil that is covered year round by
tannish grasses. It is a land locked in a season of fall. Only three
villages are in this land and none of the locals are very friendly to
strangers. They live in rough stone houses and entertain themselves
with difficult games made up to challenge ones soul. The rudeness to
wanderers is sparked by the entertainment value in getting someone
who has no idea what they are doing to play the games. One of which
is recovering certain items from the volcanic island that lies to the
north.
Separated from the rest of the land by the River Styx, running east
and west just below the norther border is the black smokey island of
Hades.
Hades might look bleak but it is packed full of otherworldly
treasures that are extremely valuable in this land. There are weapons
and armor here that can kill the soul and some that can even kill a
God or protect the wearer from such harm. Death in the Afterlife
means rebirth in the mortal realm, or worse, vanishing into
nothingness. The problem is attaining one of the artifacts and
actually keeping it on your way back out. Anyone who has ever ran
this gauntlet might tell you it's not worth the price, even if you
are already dead.
Bordering both Hades and the Elysian Fields and running the breadth
of this realm from north to south is the grey and sharp Valhalla
Mountain Rage. The mountain paths are tangled and twisted and most
who wonder into them never come out again. Not because of some hidden
danger but because it is an extremely easy place to get lost in.
There is no guides to aid you along the way. Here you best chance of
getting any help at all is to find the only building in the entire
land, The Great Hall. The problem is that no one knows for sure where
it will be from one day to the next. The only clue that was ever
given was "Look Up". The Hall rests on the mountain top for one day
and one day only before it vanishes only to reappear on the top of
another. Of course, the residents of the Great Hall are all warriors.
To them it seems fit to set a challenge for those who wish to enter
both in life and beyond.
However there is said to be a path leading through the heart of the
mountains and if you stay true to it it will lead you to the "silver
city". It is the only place still within the mountain rage that is
not part Valhalla itself. The city is called Tir na nOg and it is
rumored to be centered by a tower the reaches far above the highest
mountain peak of Valhalla. Which doesn't aid in finding it because at
that height the top of the tower is always in the clouds.
Tir na nOg is a huge city that rivals any on earth. The residents are
aristocratic types who are welcome enough to those who venture here
but have the worst habit of wanting to "enlighten" both traveler and
each other with lectures that go on for eternity. Because of this
habit it has never been considered rude do get up in the middle of a
conversation and simply leave. In fact, it is seen as being wise
because even the dead don't want to spend eternity in school.
Some distance due south is the sister city of Tir na nOg. The easiest
way to get there is by following the River Acheron which winds its
way through the mountains into the foothills to the south and runs
right down the middles of the smaller city of Tir na mBeo. This river
is known for its silver sheen that by moonlight makes it look like
pure mercury. There is a fiery that makes a run from Tir na nOg to
Tir na mBeo three times a day.
Tir na Beo, unlike its sister city is much calmer and easier to get
around in. There are no huge buildings or twisting streets here and
the locals are warm and inviting. The southern end of the city is
lines by the snake river Lethe. No one knows why they call it a river
really. It's more of a creek that you could nearly jump across. But
it is a good setting for some nice arch bridges.
the Lethe runs west until it meets the much larger tributary of the
Phlegethon River. Where the two meet is the ruins of Sheol which lies
in the foothills. A once beautiful village Sheol was home to many but
was lost some time ago in a great storm that came in off the coast.
Rumor has it that it was punishment after a resident stole a gem from
one of the coastal temples. All that remains here now is a jagged
pile of rock and wall faces. After the village was destroyed the
residents moved into vast underground caverns known as Underworld.
But those caverns are home to more than just spirits. Nearly every
nightmare mortals have ever had came from this place. But it is said
that there is a great gothic city beneath the ruins of Sheol were the
torches burn brightly all the time and a peace can be found there
unlike any other.
Just beyond the foothills of the Valhalla Mountains in the evergreen
forest lies the two tiny villages of Jekinnah and Gehenna. Both
villages coexist and in the past have came to depend on each other.
Together they make up the afterlife's largest marketplace and they
have found a reason for a festival for everyday. This is the party
place where your every whim and delight can be found, cooked, or
crafted. Merchants from all over the mortal world come here to
entertain their earthly habits and passions.
If you happen to travel just beyond the forest to the east you will
come to a ridge overlooking the only place in the entire afterlife
that might be considered a capital. The great city of Asgard.
Asgard sets on the southern border and is so massive that it could be
interpreted as the entirety of the afterlife. From the ridge it spans
the entire horizon and glitters like red diamonds at sunset. Asgard
is the hub of the land. Everyone has been there and everyone has met
there to get news from everywhere else. It's gossip central with all
the food and wine to keep the gossip fueled forever, whether its true
or not.
Asgard is so massive that it engulfs the entire River of Cocytus.
From start to finish the river is within the city limits, running
north to south in an almost perfect straight line.
Beyond the city is the playful Summerland that sets on the southern
end of the Elysian Fields. The Summerland doesn't have any towns or
villages. It's residents seem to prefer nature and nature alone.
Spotted with small forests and wide open meadows the Summerland is
home to some of the most emotional but loving spirits in the realm.
If you have a sweet tooth after death this place can cure you of it.
The Summerland is the latest to be founded, if founding is what you
call it. It looks a lot like a water painting where all of the colors
are melting together in a frightful rainbow display that makes your
eyes water. But the frolicking locals love it. Mind your tongue when
visiting this place. Their a bit confused here and just about
everything you say is wrong or will grant you bad karma. Then some
spirit dressed as a fairy will inform you time and again that you
will be sent back to the mortal realm as a goat or something. No one
really takes them seriously of course. They hardly ever take each
other seriously. They just play and dance on whims and dreams.
Gifting hope and innocents to the mortal realm and a lot of color to
all the others.
And now we are back the the Elysian Fields. Not a bad journey through
the afterlife I suppose. Now all I have to do is actually draw the
map and stain it with the magical brew of imagination.

The Mask and Mirror

While it is always important to take note of the individual identities and
backgrounds of the Gods and Goddesses that pagans worship, follow, or interact
with on different levels, one trait of the Gods that will always remain
universal and transcend all boundaries is how and when they choose to manifest
to the minds and hearts of the mortals who have gained an audience with them.

Personal interactions with the Gods tends to boarder on the taboo. These are
tales and perspectives that should be shared but are often held in secret for a
couple of primary reasons. The first is that such occurrences are often
considered to be personal and, in a way, sacred to the individual. From this
perspective the common defense to not telling the tale is that it's personal and
no one else's business. And in a world culture of possessiveness even words are
given an unrealistic weight in gold. Just ask anyone who wants to copyright and
demand credit for every single word that comes out of their little mouths. (On
this note, anything I do or say is probably more valuable to my readers than it
is to me. The more readers who gain from my words the more value the message
has. So pass it on. I adore seeing others gaining from me with no follow up
effort given to pushing the words forward. It means I did something great that
was worth someone else noting.)

A second primary, and more disturbing reason, is that interactions with the Gods
invokes a kind of fear response in those it actually happens to. Especially if
the occurrence are vivid and not simply an emotional response to a ritual,
spell, or prayer for intervening. That trend was programmed into us by the
cold, hard, and rough perspective of reality gifted to us by the scientific age.
And it's one of the great curses self imposed upon mankind. Often when we are
young and keep getting drilled about growing up. With lines that include phrases
like: ghosts and monsters aren't real. It was just your imagination, a bad
dream, get your head out of the clouds…." the list goes on forever. And what is
the one thing that us pagans value nearly more than anything else? The gift of
sight we had as children before we had that gift taken from us by the world we
live in.

Probably one of the greatest powers that deities have is the ability to manifest
to any mortal, pagan or not, in any manner they see fit to do so at the time.
So, any account of interactions and manifestations recalled by any individual
fails in shocking me or giving me the point of view that this person might just
be crazy. Which is the response they fear the most. They wont recount the tale
simply because they are afraid of what others will say or think. Oddly enough,
the opinions of others rules over many of our actions. Meaning that they are
somewhat in control of what we say and do. Even though we speak venomously about
those we catch trying to do it.

Because of the rarity of the accounts in question they are always valuable to
those they are gifted to. And it's important to respect each tale as it is told
and not try to interpret it or disrespect it in any way. Those who have these
experiences hold some value to the Gods and Goddesses that manifest to them. By
insulting the tale you insult the God or Goddess in question. And none of them
are limited to being kind and loving to any mortal.

Manifestations are an important lesson to learn. Not because they happen but
because of how and why they happen. Those who come to the call of the Gods often
enough get the favor returned. That means that if you run into a person who has
favor with a deity you not only face that person if you have reason to pick a
fight with them. You face the wrath of the God or Goddess who they have favor
with. That is not related to the dogma of karma in any way. That is simply the
equivalent of a pissed off parent or guardian.

While some Gods and Goddesses tend to remain indifferent there are others who
quite literally fall in love with the mortals who worship them. And they will
protect them in a more intense manner than any mortal lover ever could. At the
same point in time, many of the Gods and Goddesses have a strong and intense
hitch for jealousy. There is a fine line between love and hate. Especially when
it comes to the Gods.

In learning the true nature of the Gods we interact with we are better able to
serve and cope with their influences on our daily lives and the lives of those
around us. In this, we must also side note the effects of interacting with
creatures beyond the realm of the Gods. Dragons, fairies, fauns, and all manner
of what the world views as "mythical creatures" often enough appear to us
somewhere along our path. They're part of our world that is no different than
the world of man. Different races, different cultures, different attitudes and
ways of etiquette in dealings with them.

If a God or Goddess chooses to manifest to a mortal there is almost always a
hidden agenda. This could simply be a question of a favor for a favor or they
want you to do something for them just because they want you to do something for
them. And they will use the art of manifestation to aid them in getting the end
of the deal that they want.

All Gods and Goddesses have "mortal world" symbols, animals, totems, and so on
that are considered sacred to them. The reason for such things is one: they do
have a love for the physical world, and two: it offers mortals tangible evidence
for their existence. Something that is quite valuable in any belief system,
especially this day in age. It also gives you tangible worshiping tools for all
those sympathetic magics and rituals.

Deities can mask themselves and appear as anything or anyone they wish. There is
even a wealth of accounts and tales where Gods appeared in the form of a lover,
wife or husband, for the sole purpose of having sex with a mortal. Zeus is
probably the most noted of these exploiters. Beyond deity you can view accounts
of fauns and other creatures who have done the same. These attributes help
mortals to explain our more primal instincts and urges that we most often deny
or keep to ourselves. We note that we have such experiences and we counter
manifest those experiences in the extreme to myths and tales because it helps to
justify the natural tendency to have them. It dulls our sense of shame and guilt
that is pre-set into our psychology by whatever culture or time we happen to
live in. When in Rome…

The mask of the Gods is unlimited. They will appear in whatever form suits their
needs. And they do it to exploit all the darker corners of your mind and soul
that you don't like to visit too often. They do it to let you know that you're
mortal and subject to mortal fears. Granting them instant power and a measure of
respect that they don't necessarily have to earn.

The other technique is to mirror some part of your being. Something personal to
you that you can relate to on an instinctual level. Something sacred to you or
to your "expanded" memory (meaning: transcendent life experiences). They will
mirror something that your soul is more comfortable with. It helps to keep your
mortal mind from becoming overwhelmed. Your not much good to them if you fall
into the abyss of insanity. And in this form of manifestation, if we note the
details, we may often discover aspects of our lives that we may have not
realized in the past. The trick is to realize that they can see all of you. Even
the parts that you can't or refuse to see yourself. And the mere act of
manifesting in such a way is a lesson all in its own.

One of the most potent aspects of manifestation is that they can be
overwhelmingly beautiful. The Gods and Goddesses in particular can be so
seductive that they destroy all boundaries of reason. We simply fall obsessively
in love with them. And in doing so, they claim our hearts and can manipulate our
actions beyond the point of view or perspectives of any other God and mortal
alike. We can find ourselves in their service just because they are beautiful
and have seduced us into something with the same consistency of half set jello.
An exploited weakness in being mortal that can be the single greatest experience
of our lives. Nothing can ever compare to a love spell woven by a God.

Masks and mirrors. All tools and techniques used to interact with mortals on a
mortal level. Just as tangible and creditable as a mountain or a river or the
fact that you have bills to pay. Part of pagan life and the mystical experiences
that will remain beyond the realms of interpretation or expression in any true
form. Something that has to be experienced to be understood. The tales we are
willing to tell are pure gold. To the rest of the world, they don't have to be
understood. Just known to happen. For good reason or no reason what so ever.

Ritual of the Shield Covered Warrior

The Shielded Warrior of Hera is a mythical continuation of a fragment written by Asios of Samos and recounted by Duris. Within the fragment Duris describes the original priestesses of Hera and ends the fragment with the phrase “a shield-covered warrior” which almost appears out of context. Yet, it is the latter from which the modern ritual and tale is to proceed.

The first Hera at Denia Shielded Warrior Dedication Ritual incorporated a 372 year old astrological anomaly of the Winter Solstice coinciding with a full lunar eclipse on December 21, 2010. The event was described as a “return from double darkness” and made the ritual itself unique because astrologically it cannot be replicated for nearly 100 years.  

While the complete ritual itself is veiled in mystery a few of the details can be gleaned including the sympathetic ritual of the transformation of Kholos from Hera to the Shielded Warrior through the incorporation of a potion referred to as “The Blood of Hera”, which is a step beyond ancient concepts of Hera infusing a warrior with power from her breasts.

The base elements of the Blood of Hera potion was a potent brew consisting of: Water, sea salt, red wine vinegar, virgin Greek olive oil, white and green tea, apple, rosehip, chicory root, cinnamon, licorice root, ginger, orange peel, blackberry, currant, pomegranate juice, blueberry, raspberry, and Chianti.

The potion was mixed in “The Cup of Mneme”, a Denian artifact that was hand-made in Greece that is trimmed in gold. This votive offering dedicated to the Goddess was set upon the Alter of Hera during the first luminous phase of the full moon prior to the ritual bathing/cleansing ceremony. The potion was sanctified by dibbing “The Eye of Hera” crystal into the cup; relative to a more common practice of dibbing an athame into a goblet of wine. This was a form of duel sanctification. One for the Blood and one for the blood stained, teardrop crystal.

An external cleansing was incorporated with a smudging of incents and white sage fallowing the bath and an internal cleansing incorporated a feast of foods, many of which were Greek imported items such as a special type of olives; of which, the pits were places aside to be used during the ritual proper. 54 of those seeds were offered back to the earth at the climax of the eclipse and 9 others were place into a glass vial to remain within the alter room  next to an identical vial that holds a measure of the original Blood of Hera potion and thus a measure of the ritualistically invoked Kholos.

In the few moments at the climax of the eclipse the seeds were offered to the earth and thus back to an original sphere of influence regarding Hera as an earth/nature goddess and mistress of wild animals and the entirety of the Blood in the Cup of Mneme was drank; physically infusing the warrior with the Blood of Hera and the invoked Kholos; sympathetically linking the two, Goddess and man, through a mingling of blood as well as the metaphysical link that is also represented by the drinking of the Blood in “closing the deal” aspect of the ritual. The latter being both simplistic and final: an honor for an honor. The Shielded Warrior serves Hera and in turn Hera both protects and empowers the warrior. Thus it becomes a symbiotic relationship with intimate metaphysical as well as physical aspects between the divine and mortal realms and the new medium of an in-between as is describable of the Shielded Warrior himself.

Effigy

There is more to spirituality than just following a path or swearing
to unexplainable or unverifiable events. In most cases spirituality
cannot be proven or disputed with hard evidence. The bulk of the
topic is based largely on faith and the word of the practitioner. But
there are a handful of universal phenomena that seem to transcend the
boundaries that lie between one faith and another. One of those
phenomena happens to be the spiritual energies that seem to flow
naturally from religious symbols, icons, pictures, and statues.
From ancient temples to modern churches mortals have sanctified the
very ground of these monolithic structures with prayers, spells, and
symbolism. The latter often being the central focal point that almost
immediately draws one eyes to the alter or other such place that acts
as the heart of the structure.
Artists have labored for hours and in many cases years to offer their
own unique interpretations of the central figures and symbols of a
particular faith. Sometimes laboring so intently on their work that
it is not out of context to say that part of their very life force is
driven into their masterpiece, be it by pen or chisel, forever
immortalizing their spirit and their passion. Such works help us to
visualize and illustrate what cannot be put into simple words. For as
vast as human language is there are some things we still cannot
explain or express. Sometimes these things simply have to be felt for
us and anyone else to know they actually do exist and many of those
feelings have yet to be named.
However, it is not only shrines, temples, and churches that seem to
be sanctified and enchanted by effigies and symbols of our various
faiths but also our own homes. It would stand to reason that the
simple act of placing an effigy of our Gods, even in the darkest
corner of our home, is an open invitation for their influences,
power, and even direct visitation. An invitation that does not often
go unanswered.
Such practices can be traced all the way back to ancient cave
paintings that remain to this day in southern France. It is clear
that even in the most ancient times of history in art forms, the
power of effigies and symbolism has forever been a wellspring of both
spiritual and metaphysical energy. Often granting us the more common
feelings of solitude, power, and most importantly of all, safety. It
also stands as a reminder to us that our faith remains in our hearts
even if clouds in our minds cover it. Which is one of the many facets
to faith that makes it such as powerful force. In fact, it is a force
that is so intense that there are occasions when the Gods we invite
into our home are not the only visitors we receive.
The energies that flow forth from icons and effigies are not often
signature energies from a particular Deity. Contrary to popular
belief just because a mortal chooses a God does not mean that the God
also chooses the mortal. Which would help to explain why we are
attracted to a particular Deity or pantheon. Our spirits can be
pulled towards the Deity or pantheon we have a certain history or
even kinship with more so than the simple and often egotistical
interests of our minds. We might lean towards one Deity for a time
and then move on to another who has a more defined lesson or interest
in mind for us.
Effigy energies seem to be more neutral in nature and much less
intense than a flow of energy that might come more directly from a
particular Deity. And anyone who has ever had such a direct influx of
energy or influence from a Deity himself or herself will testify to
the intensity of the experience and often tell you that the feeling
is not at all the same. However, we can also say that energy gifted
to the Gods is the same energy received by the Gods. In simple terms,
if you smile and nod at them they will smile and nod back. That
doesn't mean they will hang out for long after. Yet the energy that
flows forth from their effigy seems constant.
Personally I don't believe that pantheons or even the names of the
Gods and Goddesses should be mixed or are in anyway interchangeable.
To do so is both an insult to all the Deities that might be involved
and a common practice of stupidity. Certain Deities have certain
spheres of influence and just because one people have a certain Deity
for the same sphere of influence as another doesn't not mean that the
Deities that rule that sphere are the same entity.
For instance the Roman Goddess Diana is by no means the same as the
Greek Goddess Artemis, although the two are all to often combined or
seen as counterparts, which is an extreme spiritual and historical
error that has been repeated countless times by subscribers, who
choose to believe everything they're told, rather than researchers
who actually search for some accuracy. It has sadly become the norm;
especially with the new age reconstructionist who seem to lean toward
the consolidation of Deity for whatever unfathomable reasons. So when
putting this all into practice it is important to remember exactly
which Deity you are dealing with and not insult one by haphazardly
superimposing another.
In essence on can create a temple-like environment within their home
by integrating a few things into the setting. You don't need to set
up a large alter or even a central location that attracts the eyes of
visitors. Although doing so is both unique and easy enough to pull
off. The air about a home, like that of any place else, gets its
primary feel by the central theme. Structure wise, a church is a
church because of its decor more than it is anything else and the
home is not so different. A picture or even a statue of a Deity can
easily be integrated into the setting of your home in less
conspicuous ways than on some alter. Chances are, if one was to have
a colorful picture of a particular Deity hanging on the wall visitors
would enjoy it before they even knew what it was for sure. Which,
again, is more proof that the phenomenon has some basis in truth.
Any home that has been cleansed and decorated in such a way will
rapidly begin to take on a different feel about it. By opening these
small doors for energy to flow into the home and keeping everything
just a bit tidy for your coming visitors you can make your modern day
home take on a resembling feel to an age old temple.
The only side effect to which is the possibility that your home will
become a sort of spiritual rest stop for all sorts of astral and
otherworldly creatures from ghosts to dragons. They have a tendency
to enjoy the same type of feel and energy as we do. Some of them miss
it and some of them even feed off of it. It can be frustrating at
times but it can also be a blessing in disguise. Just like the
picture on the wall.

Where Everyone, Almost Always, Screws Up

When it comes to talking about spiritual paths in the pagan community it seems
that almost everyone has their own and don't often mind referring to it on
profiles or in writing, the bulk of the latter rarely exceeding a paragraph or
two. Even more rarely mentioned than any meaty in depth bits of wisdom, that
they somehow gleaned from their chosen path, is talking of the Gods and
Goddesses associated with their beliefs (if only at the foundation marker) or
those they call on during spell/ritual workings.

It's difficult to get people to talk of the Gods they claim to worship or
halfheartedly follow. All too often deity doesn't really play a major role in
their daily lives. It's simply not a daily thing, not a part of their studies…if
they study at all. A good majority don't study paganism but run all over the
place claiming they "know" about paganism. And it's the same when it comes to
deity. The reason they wont talk about the gods is because they don't know shit
about them. They invoke their names, cross pollinate them in their salad bar
styled rituals (that are little more than 17 layers of pure fuck up), and call
themselves the wise elders, priests, and priestesses of the modern community.
Yet, one would think, that if you're going to label yourself as a "High"
anything you best have some "Higher" knowledge of the shit your talking about.
Otherwise, your nothing but a fraud, a wanna-be, a half assed lazy idiot.

The notion of dedicating oneself to deity is commonly about as vague and
ridiculously lame as just about anything else they accomplish or produce
afterwords. In many parts deity has been simmered down, reduced, handicapped,
and become as completely meaningless as it could possibly get. No names, no
histories, no personalities, no true spheres of influence, no reality or
historical fact. They do that because when there is literally nothing there to
explore, get to know, debate over, or defend absolutely no effort is required.
Their vision of the gods have them with no identity of their own aside from
being in the service of the whims and wishes of a lazy, indolent people obsessed
with instant gratification. An obsession, they find, that never really manifests
and when it comes to gaining favor from meaningless and hallow Gods with no
names and scarcely accurate backgrounds, things tend to fizzle out pretty
quickly. The bottom line is: if you don't have the right name, number, and area
code, you can't make the call.

If you ever want to see people squirm, and nine time out of ten screw up, ask
them about their personal deity(ies). It's both hilarious and sad enough to make
any self respecting pagan embarrassed for all our kind no matter what path
individuals claim or attempt to follow. It is why they never really seem
comfortable, never at rest, never complete or whole. They are almost always in a
state of spiritual, emotional, and mental flux. They can't make up their minds
because they simply don't know. And for ignorance being bliss there sure are a
lot of miserable, incredibly powerless fucks out there who are completely
oblivious to the fact that they are in fact ignorant and powerless.

Some eliminate the idea of deity all together and go with the line of "earth
based" which sounds kinda anti-spiritual by its own right. Earth based? "Nature"
based may be a more sympathetic term. But who has dominion over nature? Depends
on the path of course, but it almost always comes down to a deity or spirit and
almost always goes right back to what they don't really know anything about. You
have to love those city people who claim to follow a nature based religion but
never get out of their houses.

Here in Denia there are all sorts of backgrounds and spiritual paths working in
harmony with each other. One is never above or below another because in that
harmony and sense of balance and peace the Den becomes something more; a
personal guide in answering the question: How can I light up the dark? The only
time deity is ever defended here in Denia is if one attempts the lame and far
too common trend of claiming that one God or Goddess is the same as another. If
you are ever in the mood for a galactic bitch slap try telling me that Hera and
Juno are the same person.

The closet thing the Den has to a "patron deity" is Hera and that is only
because she is mentioned and depicted more than any other. Hera does have a
profound and fundamental influence on how the Den works beyond the seen web. And
Hera, like most other deities has been massively misrepresented by modern day
pagans. There are entire chapters of her life that are backed by archeological
evidence that are missing from common knowledge. The most prominent is her
relationship to Zeus and being misinterpreted as the Goddess of Marriage. She
could give two drops of monkey piss about the foundations and weaving's of
marriage, especially on a mortal level. In fact, Hera was NEVER even depicted at
the side of Zeus until the 7th century A.D. in a wood carving that has so much
symbolism against the idea of marriage it's ridiculous and nearly impossible to
argue, nor was the piece found in a sacred site or had any connection to cult
use. That says a lot considering Hera was born nearly 25,000 years prior to the
wood cut being made and nearly everyone today considers her souly as the "wife"
of Zeus and Queen of the Gods.

Hera was born on February 1, 24,000 B.C. (according to the archeological record
of her earliest appearance on Earth on the bank of the Imbrasos river under a
lugos tree. February 1st can be viewed as her day of "birth" due to the Bronze
Age festival of Tonea. During this yearly procession the effigy of Hera was
taken to the banks of the river where she was bond to a tree and washed in a
fertility rite.

Hera, in her original role, was the Goddess of Spring and Mistress of Wild
Animals; a fertility Goddess with dominion over all life and production. She was
also a fierce protector of her people. Her annual washing in the river renewed
both her virginity and blessing to the river itself, the "veins" of life within
nature. Her arrival on the banks of the river hearkened the return of Spring and
new life. This was the role she played until she was first re-mythologized in
the 6th century B.C. and her sacred pomegranate that represented everything from
the seed of life to Hera's own blood abruptly vanishes from all of her temples
or as votive offerings. Though the pomegranate is still recognized as being
sacred to Hera very few elaborate on the details of why.

The same holds true with the peacock and the cuckoo birds. Lesser known things
sacred to Hera are the dove, horses, olive, oak, pear, juniper, willow, bovines,
pine cones, poppy heads, rivers and streams (her original domain) and lions. The
cow was not really sacred to Hera so much as it was attributed to her due to
tale and in the tale she was not really fond of the cow. It's a simple
misinterpretation…a lack of sight.

This is just an extremely small piece of Hera's biography that I have learned in
my relationship with her. And the more I learn the more angry I get at all of
the half assed reports of her character and influence in the world of men. Oddly
enough, I did not "choose" Hera as my patron Goddess. It's a bit more
complicated than that. But it is a relationship that has benefited me and mine
greatly in the past, further back into my own life than I ever realized. And I
honor her correctly in turn. By learning.

Know your Gods, know them well, and know them deeply. If they are not visiting
your home unannounced on nearly a daily basis…you have work to do.

Bring Them Nightly

While I've never been a big fan of hand holding, bells and whistles, ritualistic practices that call on the nameless or cross pollinated Gods and Goddess of the bookshelf, the four corners, the Guardians of the Watchtowers, and whoever else the High Something-or-Other can throw in there just for good measure, I do have to admit that there are some ritualistic practices that I do daily (or nightly, as the case may be) ¦besides drinking coffee.

These are small, simple, and almost set to auto-pilot somewhere in the hard wiring of my brain. So every day and common that I don't really think about them anymore but never miss them. They are also practices that I never really gave much thought to. I was simply mused into doing them and so, I do them.

The first, and probably most vague in my mind, is my urge to wash my hands about 30 times a day. Sounds like a nice, healthy practice right? Especially during flu season. But I don't do it because I'm afraid of microscopic bugs or because my hands get dirty a lot. I do it simply because of the cleansing� I get from the running water. I do it because it washes away negativity in a kind of sympathetic magic for the things I get myself into on a daily basis. It calms me, relaxes me, and helps me to ground out and wash my hands of� anything I simply don't want to be carrying with me into the future.

A second grounding technique that one might catch me doing quite often is going outside, kneeling down, and placing my palms on the earth. As soon as my skin comes into contact with the earth I can feel the pulse of the world. The pulse travels up my arms and right into my gut. Then, without any will or effort from me what so ever the flow reverses and out it goes taking whatever it wants to take with it. Most of the time I feel refreshed and calm after such an experience. Other times, I feel like I want to lay right down there in the grass and simply fall asleep.

When I'm not looking for grounding but energy or musings, when I want to be calm and dreamy, I will inevitably find myself someplace high up. Perched on a high tree limb, setting on the roof over looking the gardens, and sometimes when I just need a quick dose I simply go upstairs and zone out through an open window for a while. A good deal of the titles that pop into my head for writing articles, my one-liners, and more poetic notes often come from someplace a lot higher than my girlfriend would like me to be.

I do most of my writing after dark. But even throughout the day you wont find me without a spiral bound notebook somewhere close at hand. Pen and paper are literally the coffee and cigarettes of any good writer. We just can't go long without them. But day or night, if I am getting into writing, it's a sure bet that I have a candle burning in front of my while I'm doing it. The primal energy that emanates off of a simple candle flame is a powerful thing. It gives me a focal point and perhaps even a scrying tool when I get lost in thought.

These are just a few examples of how elemental magic is woven into my daily routine. Rituals in their own right but rituals that are powerful and effective only because of their simplicity. These are the crayons that color a pagan lifestyle.

Beyond the elemental there is also another practice that I do every single night before going to bed. Now, my bedroom is so unlike any other room in the house it boarders on being a place that is not really part of the house at all but somewhere in-between the house and someplace else. Even though I have never quite been able to grasp where that someplace else is exactly.

The room is set up through and through to be someplace special. The main reason for that is because my alter to Hera is located in there. And, just like every other practice in my pagan life, this alter is no where near the book shelf style set up that you may often see examples of in pictures. Unlike many other self proclaimed practicing pagans and wiccans I know of, this alter is actually used for a lot more than baffling visitors (especially since no one ever really sees it except Courtney) and collecting dust. Mine gets used every single night, ritual not included.

Unlike many people I have my standard gear� that I wear every day which includes my wrist bands, my pentacle necklace, a chain that my son gave me for father's day, and on rare occasions “The Eye of Hera� itself that was mentioned in previous articles and adventures. There are two alter plates on Hera's alter where this things are returned every single night.

Whenever I decide to go to bed or simply just hide away in my room, I step before the alter and before my Goddess, take off all of the gear, and return them to their own resting place. What Hera does with them while I'm sound asleep is her business. I simply adopted a ritual that came to me completely out of no where one evening after I created the alter and have held to the nightly practice ever since.

The by the book ritualized practices you see today are often so complicated and time consuming that they are simply unrealistic and do more harm than good. Sure there is a time and place to put on a good show for your patron deities. But I like to think that those times are on the sabots and not meant for an everyday pagan lifestyle. Life is complicated enough on its own without us inventing new complications to further fuck up our day. Simplicity is an extremely rare and powerful thing because it is often from the heart when it happens. So, keep it simple. The Gods will respect you for that a lot sooner than they will all the showboating.

By the Blood of Hera

This past weekend my brother and I made the best of the warm weather by fixing
up our bikes for upcoming cross country adventures. New tires, tweaking gears,
new break pads and reflectors, an entire workup. We put this kind of time into
them because when the weather is right (or close to right) we log in hundreds of
miles on them every week. We love to ride. The challenge, the workout, the
adventure. This year we are planning to go further than ever before. And we're
already preparing for it.

While removing a reflector panel to replace it my hand slipped and I cut it on
what I guessed to be a gear spoke. It was a little cut with an oddly large
amount of blood. I made my brother stop working and come over to where I was,
showing him the cut and measuring his reaction. Without trying to explain I
smeared blood on the center of my handlebars and then on the center of his.
Then, made him follow me up to the attic where Hera's alter rests.

I instructed him to get an incense to bur at the alter while I coated The Eye of
Hera in my own blood and placed in on the offering plate. As my brother placed
the incense I allow three more drops of blood to fall in a triangle pattern on
the offer plate and simply stood there for a moment. Within seconds, the blood
stopped flowing, the stinging was gone, the cut nearly invisible.

Relax nay-sayers…Hera had little to do with it. It was a superficial cut and
minutes had passed. I'm a fast healer. Let's not loose sight of what just
happened. A completely spontaneous and unplanned ritual with no fancy crap. Just
blood and a voice in my head urging me to do it.

Why?

Hera is not exactly the pagan saint of travelers. Her and I have a common pain
along with a common goal and a certain distaste for certain things. Perhaps, it
was the Eye itself, this single tear stained by the Queen's own blood, that was
the seed of the idea that sprouted when I saw my own. As I gazed into Hera's
eyes afterwards I had no such questions in my own. I simply did what I was told.
No prayer, no ritual, no circle, no desire, no spells, no requested favor in
return.

Most of the time I am not comfortable with Hera. She tends to make me nervous.
The excited but fear based kind of nervous that some might feel in the presence
of authority figures. Or perhaps, more like that of a small child with an
over-protective, spank your ass as often as possible for your own damned good,
touch love mother. In all honesty, I'm afraid of her. I try to justify that fear
by calling it a healthy and humbling respect. And anyone who has ever truly
dealt with Hera could testify that it is much better to have her blessing than
her curse.

The call was for blood, the pull and urgency strong. Why and to what end doesn't
matter. She called, I answered, and that's that. In the process I had the
epiphany of "pure sacrifice". A gift given with absolutely nothing expected in
return and no mortal whims or showboating to pollute the natural notion of it.

This one called for blood. Since time forgotten one of the most sacred and
spiritual of all substances that could ever be sacrificed to the Gods. Even
Jesus sacrificed his blood for his god and the benefit of his people. Probably
something he picked up on by overhearing some Roman philosopher teaching at the
Temple of Apollo.

Hera called for blood and blood was given. If nothing more happens from this out
of no where ritual "my people" at the very least have been gifted with this
experience in return and all the many hidden lessons there-in and I took the
lesson of pure sacrifice. To freely give up something sacred simply because you
were given the opportunity…it speaks volumes about faith, will, and the path
itself. The experience that woke the muse and lends to mystery. The voice in my
head telling me to do it without hesitation, and how to do it right, the
overwhelming gut based pull that pulled me into it, the simple satisfaction of
doing it to the expectations of a force beyond myself, the fear tinged
humbleness that followed. The deed is done, the sacrifice given, and the
question remains:

Was it really a gear spoke that cut my hand?

The Eye of Hera

In the myth, Hera once captured Zeus for his constant infidelities and had the other gods backing her up until Zeus was set free by demons from Hades known as The Hundred Handers.

As punishment, Zeus hung Hera from the sky by golden chains where she cried out in pain and torment until Zeus grew weary of the sound. Zeus offered Hera a reprieve. If she swore to never act against him again he would set her free. The Queen of the Gods had little choice, but the ever cunning Hera allowed for one final blood stained tear to fall from her delicate cheek before taking the oath. And within that single tear was the Goddess�'s resolve, power, and rage. So heavy was the tear that it fell from Olympus and into the world of men, where it was destined to be lost, until the dawn of a new Age that was far beyond the influence of Zeus, as well as beyond the reach of the oath. For it was Hera who swore never to betray Zeus again�, not a mortal.

The Eye

Events that led to the current quest of the Dirge of Destiny included a short
tale of Hera. While I remain unaligned with any God or Goddess in particular I
do often acknowledge their constant "intervention" of the natural course of
events. In my own personal legend such interventions have led me into a
love/hate relationship with the essence of deities and their appearances in the
lives of mortals. Which I think happens more times than not and most mortals
never even realize it. That cloak and dagger tactic they tend to is something
that gets on my nerves. I do however make note of the times and places where
they appear and keep a close eye on how events unfold after such an appearance.
If they come to favor the quest then I acknowledge the aid and pay my dues. If
not, then I have no qualms what so ever about being defiant, even to a God.
My core perspective of paganism in general is based in ancient Europe rather
than traditions the likes of the Native Americans for example. My view is that
just because I was born in the United States does not mean that I should explore
the native practices of my birth land. While I know that I have some native
blood in me, I'm not a Native American, nor will I pretend to be just because
they're so close and of my ingrained into my local culture. And I do not
include Native American beliefs in my point of view of being witchcraft. It's
not witchcraft. It may be paganism by Mr. Webster's definition but what did he
know?
My spiritual compos points east and my most active spiritual muse peaks at
ancient Greece. I don't know why, don't really need to know. If I did it may
taint the raw instinct and hinder many of my abilities, abilities which I
sometimes ponder over during the exploration of myself. Mostly because I simply
do not know where the bulk of the information I put out to the world comes from.
I don't study ancient history and spiritual philosophy. I simply know it. And in
times when I don't relay the information or try to keep it to myself it feels
like I'm full which later leads to really bad headaches and all kinds of
physical pains. When I write, like now, off the top of my head, when I let go
and pass on whatever is coming into me, I feel better and the pain subsides.
I have also found that if I go for extended periods of time without the practice
or implementation of magic in my daily life, or to achieve an outstanding task,
things begin to manifest seemingly on their own. Which I have concluded means
that if I don't use it, I leak. Those uncontrolled spills attract things like
moths to a flame which come in to lap up the energy like thirsty wild dogs.
That's when they find me and I run into trouble. By using my abilities I don't
"light up" and attract them so much. Or the ones I do attract are just bottom
feeders that are easy enough to ward off or dispatch. (Yes, I kill them.)
I don't really subscribe to the idea of reincarnation so much as I do blood
memories or what in modern times is usually called cellular memory. I tend to
think that I am not a reincarnation of some ancient person but related to one.
My abilities as a pagan writer and witch are simple remnants left in my blood
from someone in my bloodline. And again, I don't know who it was or where in
time they were. I don't need to know because if I did I may ignore the gifts
given and the current quest in a quest to discover more about them than myself.
All that being said we get back to Hera. She is the only deity I have some sort
of odd emotional connection to and it is not always a good one. There is an
unknown history there; be it with one of my ancient ancestors or just me
personally. Maybe I got her attention somewhere along the way, maybe someone
connected to me did. Whatever the cause she appears more than any other. And it
was such an appearance that led to everything that happened in the Den and many
things that remain untold. From shutting the Den down to the waking up and
writing of the enigmatic Dirge itself it was all small steps in a process, all
preparation for a new journey. The key that unlocked all of the new revelations
and the perception of the quest itself was a feather.
Not long after I was mused to place a modern representation of Hera on the Den
homepage I found a peacock feather by the main fountain in Lisocia (the Denian
gardens). I don't believe in coincidences. I took the feather and placed in on
the alter in my room and left it alone figuring that the message would reveal
itself. It did in a thousand ways and here we are.
Since then two more peacock feathers have been added to the décor of my room,
these two crowning the headboard of my bed in a random musing of turning my bed
itself into an alter of sorts; which included doing much more to it than just
adding feathers to the headboard. But here's the rub: the whole bit goes against
my distrust of the gods.
The feather comes three fold just as there are now three feathers. First, a
peacock is one of Hera's sacred animals and probably the widest known. One of
the least known is a royal lion. Odd hu? Others include the cuckoo, and the
hawk. As the myth goes, Argos Paneptos was a hundred eyed giant charged by Hera
with Guardianship over a nymph. Upon his murder Hera honored her guardian and
his service by placing his eyes into the feathers of a peacock with the
knowledge and possibly a trick on mortals that anything the eyes of her guardian
sees she sees herself. Because of the connected sight the colors of the eye is
tinted by the color of Hera's eyes, an unforeseen side effect that remains as
the only evidence of her presence within them, that as far as I am aware of was
never really revealed until about two seconds ago. And since we're telling
secrets here we might as well also mention that by accepting a peacock feather
and bringing it into your home, no magic shielding or prayers, location or
alignments can hinder Hera from popping in unannounced whenever she takes the
fancy. What more did you expect out of a power craved goddess? Not to mention
her deep seeded mistrust of men in general who she wholeheartedly believes to be
whores. So, ladies, if for any reason you believe you man may be cheating on you
just get a peacock feather. She'll grant your vengeance for you in a heartbeat.
He might end up killed but hell hath no fury like a goddess scorned. She's not
allowed to punish Zeus any more so she takes her wrath out on mortals in his
stead. Bit of a history there too.
So, the feather is an open invite. It's also a nexus point from which her
influence and messages can more easily flow. The product to date of which has
been the Dirge, the course of the things that will be chronicled here in the
Den, and a few more personal matters that I don't have permission to mention
yet. And if you are trying to add any of this up and wondering why I am spilling
Hera's secrets all over the internet yet waiting for permission to say something
more, the answer is because I am not waiting for Hera's permission to do
anything. She knows me well enough to know that I don't seek the consent of the
gods any more than I pray for interventions. Hell, I don't even worship them. I
just acknowledge them. Which may very well be the key to gaining their
attention, I don't know.
Point is, she sees, I see, you see. See how things work out?
Now, Hera being Hera, while she does pull some nasty crap on those she tastes a
distaste to she also aids those she takes favor with for whatever reason. And
that is her link to the Den and its history. She took an interest in one of our
past tales. And it is that past tale which plots the course for the Dirge.
This transcends my personal quest that already has an end goal and has already
begun into things and lessons I find along the way; such as the Labyrinth
article. This isn't something that I can just do. It is a long and difficult
journey to the end which a lot of challenges that need to not be overcome so
much as defeated. The "Eye of Hera" is a physical object that I'm set to find
but doesn't have the inherent magic as one might expect from a
magical-thing-a-ma-jig that is suppose to aid in journeys. It's an "I'll know it
I when I find it" thing that has to be consecrated and ritualized before it is
of any use. A fact that I think is stupid because I think rituals are stupid.
Apparently Hera gets a kick out of them from time to time though, especially
when done by someone with my point of view on the matter. I can live with the
favor for a favor thing though. It's just a means to an end.
Trouble is that what I'm facing in the future can't be intervened upon by any
deity. They can help me get there but after that I'm on my own, sort of. I'll be
able to use the wisdom and insights gleaned along the way, the artifacts and
weapons I obtain. But the most important of anything is the headless drive to
prevail. There are things and tests that can and will cause pain. So, anger and
rage become important. Not because they are right or wrong but because they
offer a measure of protection. Rage, if used properly, can make you completely
unaware of the pain you're in. It gives you an edge than nothing else can grant.
That was what I found at the center of the labyrinth, the power of rage.
Now, I move on to the next place on the map. Where ever that may be, in search
of three sisters who have no intention of having an audience with me to talk
about a few of the issues brought up in the past. The past doesn't matter. What
matters is the future and finishing this quest whether they like it or not.
They've beaten me twice before and there are already signs that they know I'm
coming again. I expect they will be changing their tactics. This entire journey
is so that I can change mine.
And we travel on.

Allies and Enemies

"But for me I will abide here, setting within the fold of Olympus, where I will gladden my heart with gazing; but go ye forth that ye come among the Trojans and the Achaians and succoure these or those, howsoever each of you have in mind." (Zeus - The Iliad, Book XX-369)

All of the Gods from any land, and no land, have both a love and envy of the mortal soul. The world of men is the great game. For men, unlike any other are driven to succeed. Driven by passion and rage, by the unknown, but more importantly by themselves.

For their love, a price was paid. For in loving mortals the Gods adopted and mimicked many of mankind's attributes. Not all of which were kind. Envy, jealousy, obsessive love, and rage. In all of their might and magic the Gods themselves would turn on and to each other, day in and day out, in a never ending battle over what was best for the world below but also in smaller, more personal, matters.

In the past men were judged by their deeds. The greater the deed the greater the blessing bestowed upon them. Some where even able to obtain the mortal equivalent of immortality in that their names would forever be remembered, their deeds never forgotten. But no more so than the unforgotten deeds of the Gods who lead them to glory.

Some of the Gods and Goddesses had their favorites among mortals and they readily acted against each other in their efforts to ensure a good fate for those they watched so closely and loved. A blessing from one would bring a curse from the other. And it was the mortals who were forced to stand alone in the dust. Blinded by the love and hate of the Gods as they dueled over what would be. Even mighty Zeus would act in secret to keep white armed Hera ignorant to his own deeds. Not that he had fear of the immortal goddess but simply for the fact that he often grew weary of being forced to listen to her constant complaints. Another attribute unbecoming of a Goddess but practiced relentlessly none the less.

The Gods also adopted the plight of favoritism and vanity. They held great contests amongst themselves over things such as physical beauty, musical talent, and even who among them could drink the most wine. That honeyed potion nectar of Dionysus that could gift both wisdom and madness to God and mortal alike. A test that the God of Wine enjoyed seeing played out in any case.

Even ego plagued the Gods. They failed to fully yield to the symbiotic nature of their relationship with mortals. Their wars with each other were on such an epic scale that all things mortal seemed insignificant at times. The gods granted many things to the world of men and in return for those gifts mankind loved, honored, and worshipped them. In doing so it was man who opened the gateways between the divine realms and the mortal world. The more worshipers a God or Goddess had the more influence they had in the mortal realm. And without mankind as a grounding rod their influences would often go unnoticed or fail to manifest at all. To make things worse, the loss of worshipers and the flow of love from the mortal realm struck the old gods like a plague. They grew weaker in influence and power, less focused on a world less focused on them, and some of them would loose all musing to aid mankind at all. For mankind was no longer aiding them. The strings were cut. The pieces on the board no longer moved at the gentle nudges of the Gods. Now, it took something more.

It was only the God of War who still had a hold on the heart of man. For it is in mankind's nature to destroy. And all throughout time wherever and for whatever mankind was led into battle they did so under the watchful eye of the God of war. Though even the new generations of pagans have often denied the nature of this deity, he cared not. His nature was undeniable and seen the world over. Beyond all text, teaching, or philosophy, the gift and art of war has forever been the most honored among men. And this again was a trait reflected above.

"So urged the blessed gods both host to battle, then themselves burst into fierce war" (370)

So it is with the Gods, both kind and cruel, wise and foolish in the designs and plots against and for man and each other. Not so unlike the mortals they move to govern to some still unforeseen end. Unforeseen because like mortals they have little control over the fate of the free willed. And thus, so willed, that there have been times when even a mere mortal has dared to defy a God…and the God was defeated.

A blessing from one, a curse from another. But curses break. Deeds are forever. It was a man, not a God, that did the deed. And the man was favored many times over thereby.