"The Manhattan Viewpoint" – November 15th, 1987

The akashic library was filled with an air of quiet contemplation as Peter and Calliope continued their dialogue. The soft candlelight cast dancing shadows on the shelves, and Calliope, ever the diligent scribe, prepared to capture the next part of Peter’s story.

“When we are?” asked Calliope.

“1987.” said Peter, “and i’m traveling to the city from Long Island to get comics at a bookstore called the Forbidden Planet near Union Square.”

Peter began, his voice steady and reflective. “My relationship with comic books runs deep. While I will go into it in exquisite detail over the course of this tale, the most basic aspect is this – in the comics were beings who possessed powers and talents which defined the shape of their reality. I possessed powers and talents which defined the shape of my reality. To my eyes, the characters in the comics were the closest thing I had to understanding the nature of myself.”

September 1986 – Eyes on Manhattan

There is something there.  Something in the play of the characters.  A gravity that pulls at me.  That speaks to something deeper.  A color, or the taste of a sound which moves across my awareness as I turn the pages …

“To my vantage Moore’s work was a reflection of the fractal of human selves and of the extreme type of personality that inspired a superheroic life.”

“It was a seminal work. One considered fine literature far beyond the previously held ideas of the comic book.”

Even then I saw the characters were reflections of the aspects of our selves, of the potential ways in which we could interact with the world through ou senses and sensibilities.  In Watchmen I saw the extremity of personality made real, the quality of devotion or design that sat behind the true superheroic persona.

“I see. And which of the characters did you relate to most?”

He smiled. “On some level I related to all of them, but mostly to that of Dr. Manhattan, Ozymandius and Rorschach. In particular Dr. Manhattan meant a lot to me because of my sense of the akasha. It was a vision into vision itself.”

“What has to be understood here is that my perception of the akasha was already there, I was already sensing and feeling the layers of the world and drifting uncontrollably from one state of being to another. The people around me had no sense of what I was talking about and to me their entire world was a drifting dream. The superheroes gave me a sense of grounding, a feeling of resonance with what I was going through.”

“How so?”

“Consider what we’re doing here in the Mythica.” he said. “How we’re showcasing the mythos along my timeline, noting the significant events which speak to the idea of a greater purpose … to the seeds of my story already being present when I was a child.”

“Go on ….”

“Dr. Manhattan’s character was remarkable in many ways. He had complete control over the nature of form itself and was essentially a god, which was a comic book idea far beyond my actual capabilities. But he had a sense of time that was significant. A sense of events happening simultaneously which was explored throughout the comic and which I saw as a reflection of Moore’s own journeys into the akashic space in what would be his capacity as a practicing magician. Dr. Manhattan’s perspective of events happening at the same-moment in a timeless space mirrored my own, albeit not burdened by the flickering inconstancy that defined my pathos.”

“So you saw the future?”

“Not exactly. It was more like there were flickers of sensations that existed in the past, the present and the future which accompanied visions and which danced like fragments of glass in the shattering of my everyday life.”

“It’s all related” he said then, his gaze moving off into some unknown place. “The layers of the land, our timelines of adventure, the impressions which create our view of the world, it’s all part of something much larger – an infinite fractal of exploding geometries across akashic space. People just don’t see that.”

“Why not?”

“Their eyes are … (he searched for the word) … covered. Conditioned by layers upon layers of impressions that define who they envision themselves to be. They can’t see the prime reality because it’s covered up by something else.”

Calliope’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “So superheroes became fundamental to your self-concept?”

“Yes,” Peter replied. “Through the heroes, I came to feel a sense of belonging, a sense of how my strange perceptions and experiences fit within the world. As I moved through the many realms and realities of my shifting world, they became a fortress of coherence, a way of describing myself into form.”

Magic in the Aisles

“There was magic there,” Peter continued. “Real magic, ancient lines of energy that moved through the pages. It was a language of heroism, of movement through the corridors of the human mind, and spoken in a tone that I could receive. More than this, it was something I could identify with. Something that resonated within the cacophony of energies that were constantly barraging my sense of self.”

“There was a sense that what appeared as comic books and fantasy fiction was just the expression of something deeper – of the actual arcane magics and wonderment that existed in the world. They were the modern myth, the telling of the ancient gods and heroes in their current form, and I felt myself drawn to them, drawn to the promise of perspective that they embodied.”

“Opening the doorways to perception like Aldus Huxley said?” asked Calliope.

“Something like that.”

Calliope paused, her eyes filled with understanding. “So the comics were more than just stories for you. They were a way to understand your own experiences and powers?”

Calliope looked up, her quill poised. “How did the comics help you understand yourself?”

Peter nodded thoughtfully. “Through the comics, I was able to forge a context for what was happening to me, to give myself some kind of structure with which to organize the overwhelm of sensations that defined my existence. They were a place of solace, teachers of ethics and the right use of power, and an ongoing source of vitality to keep me going on the many years of the Quest. Over the course of time and space, I would find my way to places of power, specialty shops where the energy of the comic book universe was gathered, instinctively drawing upon the prana moving through their pages to maintain my coherence in the madness and majesty of the worlds.”

Peter paused, his eyes reflecting deep memories. “Over the years, I would frequent many comic shops and give my tithe to the Goddess of Story, yet in this tale, I give credit to the one that inspired me the most – New York City’s Forbidden Planet. Every week, I would head into the Forbidden Planet to gather my comics, buying title after title of the heroes and heroines that felt so much more real to me than the ‘real’ world.”

Calliope’s quill paused as she looked up, intrigued. “What was it about Forbidden Planet that made it so special?”

Peter smiled, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. “I always felt the entrance to the Forbidden Planet looked like a TARDIS. A gateway to another dimension beyond the confines of time and space. In the flickering sensations that moved through my awareness, there was a sense of invitation, of safety and sanctuary amongst the stories.”

Calliope’s quill resumed its dance as Peter went on. “It was an electric place. A wonderland where I felt received and accepted, awash in the colors and textures of what felt like a multitude of portals into other worlds. Like the Squire Theatre, it was a place of sanctuary, where the flushness and freedom of stories was held in bright revere.”

Peter’s voice grew more animated. “In this way, comic book stores became a temple to me, a place where the iridescent threads of ideas were given reign, where the sharp lights and hard angles of the world dissolved into a language of images and words, a hieroglyph for the modern Age.”

Calliope’s quill captured every word with care. “Given such a set of impressions, it’s clear to see how my life became the shape that it has been. To walk down the aisles of the comic shops was to feel myself bathed in a radiance of ideas, colors and textures and inks of feeling, gravities of meaning and portals to other worlds. It was a sense of opening, of a language that sang true to my soul. It was a language of simplicity, a modern hieroglyph that opened me to myself.”

Peter nodded. “Even then, I knew there was a power hidden between the panels. An energy and a purity that radiated through the colors and the words. In the feral landscape of my senses, I could taste it, something far and distant yet intimate, as if remembered from a long place away.”

Calliope’s quill moved swiftly. “The drowning of my senses continued even then, and I was constantly working to make sense of the shifting senselessness of overwhelm. The world shifted and phased in and out of sequence as I wandered through the streets, navigating my way through what seemed like a palette of shifting light.”

Peter’s eyes shone with conviction. “There’s a reason comic books have taken over Hollywood. One that I felt deeply. Somehow, I knew we WERE the heroes. We were the characters from the storybooks. We just didn’t have access to our powers.”

1986 – Crisis on Infinite Earths

It was something i'd realize later about the mercurial aspect of the Flash ….

Calliope’s quill moved swiftly, capturing the essence of his words. “Simply to be in the radiance of the comics was empowering, reminding me of the reality that such things were real, that such things were possible and true in their way. There was a sense of a language, one that sat beneath the surface more distilled than the cacophony I’d experienced in the outside world that sang to me of home.”

Peter’s voice grew softer, more introspective. “It was more than imagination for me. More than just inspirations on paper. In a world of synesthetic overwhelm, the superheroes gave me a context for what was happening to me. A way of understanding the myth that would become the tale of Peter Fae.”

Calliope looked at Peter with deep respect. “The thing about comics is, they’re a doorway into the dimensions of your self. The very substance of the idea that they are born from speaks to a language of legend which is mirrored in the potential of the self. While it may not appear the same way on the surface of the world, the vibrational substances invoked through the comics are very real indeed. They are the powers of the mind, what are known as the siddhi, as the occult, as our sensitivities and manipulations of energy.”

Peter nodded, a serene smile on his face. “Even then, I knew there was a power hidden between the panels. An energy and a purity that radiated through the colors and the words. In the feral landscape of my senses, I could taste it, something far and distant yet intimate, as if remembered from a long place away.”

Calliope’s quill captured the profound nature of his words. She looked at him, her eyes filled with curiosity and respect. “Thank you for sharing this, Peter. Your insights into the modern myth of comics and their influence on your journey are truly inspiring. But it makes me wonder, how do you see these stories influencing others in their own quests? What do you think is the power of modern myths like these in shaping our collective consciousness?”