“Arrows of Kairos”

Location – August 2, 2002 / New York City

“How did the structure of the Mythica first come together?” asked Calliope, her quill hovering above the pages of the Book of Fae.”

He answered quickly. “Photography. Which if you don’t know is the art of painting with light. It was the way I started to track my path, to document the moments in time and space when I was in a certain dimension of myself.”

She clicked off a few notes. “Can you explain that further?”

“Absolutely. My mind flickered constantly, moving from one state of itself to another, never long enough to settle into any one shape. Because of this, I had to find a way to channel the art that required only a moment of elemental recognition, one made of the very substance of the immediacy I was experiencing. For me, this took the form of photography, setting the tone for what would be my documentation of the journey into the Mythica.”

It was here the documentation of the Mythica truly began as I wielded the magic of the lightning and the camera to track the moments of my shifting consciousness, marking them as moments in the kairos of space and time to help me anchor my shift across the dimensions.

On a basic level, I just couldn’t understand how things went together. .  It was as if I simply could not grasp the way the world worked.  It was like a language that I simply could not grasp, could not conceptualize in my mind or make sense of, another aspect of what I would come to call my ‘mutant powers’, the chaotic way my mind organized and processed information showing up as an inability to fathom the structure and substance of how things came together in the earth plane.

Yet there was something beyond this.  Beyond the play of lights and water upon the surface and stone.  Something that tickled me, that invited me into something beyond the chaos of my endless drowning.

It was like I was seeing two worlds – a world above the surface and a world below, both existing simultaneously and flickering across my awareness like a lost candle.

It was like there was a layering of archetypical essences, of incarnate immortalities that surrounded us all the time, painting the pictures of our lives.

The moment from “The Lightning Gift” had stayed with me, and I could feel the lightning moving through the camera, empowering it.

To witness the most authentic, most uncontrived and unstrategized things I adhered to an absolute discipline of from-the-hip mythic journalism, witnessing only what happened naturally upon my path. I was a purist about this, either unaware of refusing to use photoshop or post-processing to change the shape of the image, insistent that the energy I was embodying within myself in each moments as the paintbrush which painted the light onto a canvas of time and space.

There was something about the relationship between the vertical expression of the lightning between and earth and the sky and the horizontal expression as the bolts of electricity I felt between the camera and what I was witnessing on the path. There was a connection there, one which spoke to the nature of the moment when lightning struck and to the witnessing a moment in life. It was a thing of kairos, of the specific point in the dimensions of space and time in which something happened.

It was the beginning of the art of divination for me, the sensing of the signs and portents which occurred along my path at very specific moments and which informed me as to what world I was experiencing and perceiving within the drift.