"Citizen York" – September 28th, 1996

February 1995 – "The Kindly Ones"

It was at this point that I began to identify with the character Lyta Hall, who was existing somewhere between the mortal realm and that of the gods …

September 28th, 1996

There is something worth mentioning. While I admire and appreciate the magomancers of the Age deeply, the fugue of my akashic senses made the names of the authors and illustrators a barely recognized thing. It was not a conscious distance, more than the nature of my powers precluded the understanding of the world of authorship and production on a base level in the same way that I could not digest the vibrational impressions that made up modern culture.

“If I can just get to the mountains somewhere and get a grip on my powers …”

I would experiment there, reaching out with my senses, feeling the push and pull of the kinetic vibrations moving through the space. I would close my eyes and feel into the space around me, sensing the densities of objects in the kinesthetic field.

This became harrowing though, as I began to feel the trains moving underneath the streets with force and intensity. Clearly the city was overwhelming me.

"Yet more than this there was a sense of an organic presence, as if the trains themselves were vessels with a larger form, within the intelligence of the city herself. I would get overlays in the space, feelings that my self and the people who moved through the city were like the cells in some larger organism, one that only looked like metal and bedrock but contained some deeper and intrinsic essence within."

I had abilities, that was sure. Powers of perception and the manipulation of subtle energies that came as naturally to me as rain from the clouds. Yet they were inconstant, stranding me somewhere in-between the chaos and din of my untempered mind and a sense of Divine transcendence. I saw people as the gods, yet they were not, at least, not consistently.

I felt like an alien in the world, my identity drawn from the archetypes of Superman and Shazam, possessed of great magic, yet flickering. Not a kryptonian god in the constancy of his power nor consistently lost in the mundanity of the mortal condition. The lightning flickered, and with it my very sense of self, and I became defined not by the stability of one or the other but by the movement between.

“Did you continue to feel like a mutant, dealing with psychic powers?”

“Absolutely.”

“”And how did this inspire the creation of the Mythica?”

“There were a couple pieces of media that deeply inspired me …”””And how did this inspire the creation of the Mythica?”

“There were a couple pieces of media that deeply inspired me …”

“Remember – Everything is about the when. About when ideas come to us on the timeline, and how those things form the beats of our story.

The Nazz

Around this time, I discovered a comic called ‘The Nazz’, written by Tom Veitch and Bryan Talbot which had come out in 1990. It was about a man who gains access to the siddhic powers within him and becomes a real superhuman in a world of false media. Here I felt the same resonance i’d felt with the depiction of the character Dr. Manhattan, the scent of something greater than the ink and paper, something that stretched past the forms of this Age into something deeper.

I can still feel the moment in the akasha when I saw the tale beneath the tale. When my senses perceived the thread of form that lay within the fabric of the idea. The story of the Nazz spoke volumes to me, for it’s inspiration, the gravity which inspired the writer, was that of human attainment, of the realms of the Gods which lay within. To me, such was a totem of inspiration, much like Promethea and other such fare which acted as an anchor of remembrance, helping me to land in the world.

Siddhi. The word meant something important. Something related to the real superpowers of our potential.

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. They are the mystic arts, the yogic arts, the disciplines and dimensions of human potential unbound. While the remembrance of their existence waxes and wanes across the sands of time, the siddhic virtues within us are a constant, part of the architecture of the self itself.

A title by Rick Veitch called ‘The Nazz’. It was a story about a man who becomes an avatar of consciousness itself, drawing a group of followers to him whom he imbues with siddhic powers. Over the course of the four issues, he runs afoul of the so-called ‘superheroes’ of a corrupt government agency, essentially military personnel in colorful suits and media packaging with no real powers of their own. It was for me a tale of the right use of power, of the Divine force of the masculine and the feminine playing out through the themes of the Age, and was the beginning of a shift in the comic book world, a maturation of the fistcuffs of classic comic tropes to the representation of the real mysticism and attainments of excellence that lay within our human nature.

There is another comic which strikes me during this time. "U.S." by Steve Darnall and Alex Ross.

While I did not recognize it at the time, eventually I would come to see that this comic touched on the idea of Shiva, the formless embodiment of God in manifest form, the Source of all things in the Universe.

1997 – The Golden Compass / The Subtle Knife

Here again was the idea that one could divine their way across their circumstance and that one could cut through the dimensions, stepping through a portal through the magic of the compass and the sword.

1996 – Dragonheart

Here again were the ethics of the Old World wrapped in the textures of the new, and I marveled at the redeemed relationship between the Knight and the Dragon, one that spoke to the textures of deeper story that I had felt beneath John Boorman’s ‘Excalibur’ so many years before.