I awaken and set out on the road at 7 AM, recognizing I have a window of 25 hours to reach my rendezvous with Niekko in Hartford Airport. As is my daily routine, I dip into the Edisto river and consider the nature of the quest.

I don’t know what’s going to happen. I only know I have done the good work with what I was given, and I’m no longer ignorant into the nature of the material plane. A hard won Wisdom moves through me and I face the edge of mystery, the veil of mystos which holds the essence of uncertainty itself.

In this I consider, such is the charge of all explorers, all those who dare to investigate the unknown, who follow their dreams and divinations as map and compass, setting the tone for the paths of those who are to follow.

To return to the city of my birth, with the proof of the Mythica in my grasp feels part of a larger movement, a collective pilgrimage to the patterns and personas of the emergent world.

How will the way open? What circumstances will define the arc of my return? Will the visit to the grave of my father and my still living mother, afford me new revelation, and action towards bringing my work to the world? Will synchronicity align in a manner that shifts me from the conditions of passage to that grounded publishing? Will my own questions of Will and willingness find a new shape?

I cannot say, no more than any explorer that has ever returned can say what will happen. I can only perform the action of addressing what lay before me, and move as best I can through the dissolving mists of the future.