Roses in Oakland

It’s meaningful, for it relates to a decision to embody the bardic more fully, to live my myth and commit to the process of documenting the journey across the underlands.

It’s quizzical, in its way. In the timing and the revolutions along the path which speak to the nature of my own karmic repetition, as I have both wanted to and been doing this for years, yet never truly pulling to trigger and publishing – truly connecting with the world. It’s a thing that speaks to the nature of trauma and it’s resolution in the most intimate of ways, revealing how much I’ve been stuck in a circular process and demanded to surrender to the unfoldment of things larger than myself.

This, of course, is at the very heart of the journey into the Mythica, the idea of what-does-what. What allows us, what denies us, what sits in the subconscious, what waits in the superconscious and in all the places in-between. For me, getting to the publishing has been an act of deepest difficulty, moving through what has seemed like an endless labyrinth of shifting and misty walls obscuring my movement forward … yet somehow, throughout it all, there were roses amongst the thorns.