We are all on the journey back to the Garden.



We’re all on a journey, to the place of the Green
Walking the branches and roots in-between
There’s paths through our forest, and paths through your leaves
on all of these paths, these roads on the Tree


We are all on the Journey Home.  Living the story of our life.  When we see the subtle beneath the surface of that story, our life becomes magical.  We step into the Mythica, the worlds beneath the world.





are al on a journey back to the Garden.  To a world of magic and possibility, where the shadows and confusions that keep us from love are clear.  Where we can breathe into the possibilities of life without fear. 

As we move into a more awakened world  

I was thirteen years old when I declared my devotion to the Goddess of Story, speaking the spell that would transform the circumstancs of my life into an adventure into the Mythica, the real magical world.

The Blessing and the Burden

Perhaps the most important thing to understand about my journey into the Mythica is that I started there – that I was always in the subtle landscape of mythos and energy far before I came to clarify it with a brand.  While the quest into a new reality is the basis for the heroic journey is often considered the movement from the ordinary to the mystical versions of one’s experience, I was experiencing what most people called the “magical” world throughout my childhood.  For me, what most people considered the ‘magic’ was normal, and what they considered ‘normal’ was alien, frightening and strange.  Fundamentally out-of-sync with the way in which I experienced life.

As a result, life was extremely difficult, in ways that are difficult to describe.  From as early as I could remember, I was beset by deep rages and confusions, moments of splintering shadow and heights of extreme creativity that flickered in and out like candles.

.  While writing from the present I can see how it was all part of what would eventually lead me to create Into the Mythica, this was the very beginning of my human adventure, and it was challenging in a way that seemed unique to me, where I felt I had a condition that sundered my very sense of self, shifting and changing even the memory of who I was from day to day in a seemingly endless maelstrom of broken mirrors.


At the time, I called it “shapesculpting“, a combination of shapeshifting and a feeling that the sculpture of my self, the very substance of what I was made of, was shifting uncontrollably, changing the very fabric of who I envisioned myself to be.  As a result, for many years my life was a constant struggle simply to maintain my sanity, to make sense of an overwhelming deluge of sensations and textures from which I could make no sense.  To make things even more difficult, I, like so many others, was deeply traumatized by the distortions that have defined the old paradigm of humanity, and had to find a way to heal myself, gradually discovering the arts of transformation that are the key to the journey to a more heavenly earth.

This created all kinds of problems, for while I was living in the so-called ordinary world, it was a shifting, changing thing, where I could not rely on being the same version of myself from one moment to the next.  I was constantly struggling with a sense of instability, of my personality and perceptions changing, influenced by forces far larger and more primal than what things appeared to be on the surface.  I had tremendous difficulty assimilating the most basic aspects of human existence, all of which occurred for me as strange and often painful, like the substance of a dream.

It was a challenge that was both singular and communal, for the environment in which I existed was ill-suited to handle the peculiarities of my state of being.  It was the 1980s, a time of psychiatrists and pharmaceutical solutions, far removed from the integrated and psychically precise practices that define the modalities of the current world, where I was in so many ways a fish out of water, a being living in an environment which was not capable of supporting it’s growth.  And while I had a loving mother who tried her best to find ways to assist me with the difficulties I was facing, the simple fact was I existed in a paradigm of consciousness far outside the range of perception that defined that time, requiring a delicacy of interface that was simply beyond their capability to grasp. 

Of course, as a child, I did not realize this.  My reality was a sense of endless overwhelm, of feeling assaulted by the very essence of the world, flush with bouts of tremendous anger and confusion that would mark my journey for years to come.

Lost in Translation

The Inspiration

It may sound funny, but it was the roleplaying that reminded me of the real world.  That inspired the sensations beneath my skin that I tracked to the oceans of the magical realms.  It was a form, one that sang to me of something greater.  To an elemental remember laying between the letters and pictures.


And it would influence me greatly, laying down the impressions in the akasha which would germinate and become the vast and realized deep magic of the Mythica herself.

There is an ancient magic that powers the form of all storytelling.  Of all movements into different aspects of who we could possibly be, and it has a gravity that manifests worlds.  When we understand this, when we TRULY understand this, we live the mystical version of our potential life.

Yet this is not a prize for the shallow-hearted.  It is a thing that must be earned, facing the trials that come to gain the treasures along the way.  It will not be easy, yet it will be the most satisfying thing you could ever do. 




Everything starts somewhere.  Throughout my teenage years and my twenties I was deeply enmeshed in the roleplaying game “Dungeons and Dragons”, going on endless adventures through worlds of myth and magic.  Over the years, I would deepen my understanding, moving from player to the storyteller and eventually building out my own game system and world.

It was a fascinating form of storytelling, one that challenged and stretched my imagination.  Where I could adventure through an endless series of worlds, all constructed from the substance of imagination in a shared space of creativity with a group of friends with whom to share the experience.  There was a dynamism to it, an endlessly changing landscape of different stories and characters, all of which served the development of my character, my persona inside that universe.

During this time, I found sanctuary in the world of Stories, in the fabulous adventures of heroines and heroes who lived in worlds of myth and magic, living lives of epic adventure across landscapes filled with all manner of magical beings.  I read voraciously, devouring the genre of fantasy, science fiction and horror, exploring the many worlds presented by any number of authors, all of which felt to be more real than what I was experiencing in the outside world.  It was a strange circumstance, where I identified more with the characters that I experienced in the ‘fictions’ than I did with the people and places that I experienced in the so-called ‘normal world’.  Where, from my perspective, the aspects of existence modeled in those books were somehow more tangible, more relatable and more true to my experience than what I was being presented with in ordinary reality.

Like so many children who find inspiration in the genre, I was fascinated by the idea of mystical powers, of psychic abilities, of wonder and transformation, and I filled my world with everything I could find, collecting comic books, movies and novel’s which carried the vibration of that fantastical place.  Like other fans of the art, I would read and re-read the adventurers of my favorite superheroes, keeping the chronology of their adventures safe within plastic sleeves, neatly organized into boxes that I would re-visit time and time again as a font of inspiration.  I collected movies in a similar way, discovering how to make copies of rented films and putting them on video cassettes to be watched and re-watched over and over, gaining a form of grounding that helped me make my way through the alien and distorted nature of the outside world. 

In particular, I was deeply influenced by a roleplaying game known as “Dungeons and Dragons”, an interactive form of storytelling in which one adopted the persona of a character, an avatar within a fantastical universe through which they went on an epic adventure, fighting monsters and acquiring treasures in service to an endless series of mystical quests.  It was in many ways the perfect fusion for me, a place where the vastness of my imagination could take flight, where I engaged in both the act of playing a character and eventually running the game itself in the esteemed position of the “Dungeon Master”, the storyteller who organized the world through which the characters experienced their many adventures.

For those who aren’t aware, there is a deep magic to the art of roleplaying, one forged from the most basic elements of story, that of sound, attention and imagination, one intimately linked to the most basic elements of theatre itself, where to experience a mystical journey one needed nothing more than a storyteller, one’s attention to the tale and the imagination that filled it’s worlds with color and light.

For those who aren’t familiar, in roleplaying games one adopts the persona of a character, their avatar within that Universe.  As part of the genre, the characters of Dungeons and Dragons related to the archetypes of the fantastical world, that is, wizards, clerics, fighters, bards, thieves and more.

In particular, I played what they called a paladin, which was essentially a holy knight in service to something larger than themselves.  It was a thing which resonated deeply within me, and one that would influence the Quest for years to come.

Blessings of Lightning

It was sometime in my thirteenth year that I invoked the spell that would eventually become the Mythica.
In particular I had resonance with the storms and the rain. There was a quality amongst the cracks of lightning and the endless mirrors of falling water that soothed me, that felt resonant deep within my form. Countless times I would wander through the rain, feeling it blanketing me, soothing the tremors within.

It was during my early teenage years that my life changed completely, where the turbulent energies that were defining my existence began their long process of coherence.

In that moment, amidst the lightning and the rain, I felt the Divine.  The energy of Story, of Song and Dance, move through me.  My sense of self shifted, and I was able to feel the essence of story herself pouring into my form.

This fundamentally changed the way in which I viewed my writing, where instead of creating tales of worlds outside of myself, I felt the magic of story turn inward, making me the character, the protagonist in my own adventure.  Such set the tone of a journey which has lasted ’till this day and beyond.

Born Magical

I never had to believe in magic.  In fact, quite the opposite.  My life was a constant stream of overwhelming energies, of sublte sensations and colors, somatic and incoherent quakes across the field of my being.

I would shift constantly.  Changing shape, seemingly without my control.

A Squire of Story

There’s a power in Names.  In the Stories that sit behind the silver screen.  In the real magic that radiates to us, reminding us of the worlds beyond our horizon.  For me, the Squire theatre was a sanctuary.  A place of communion with the magic of Story.  Looking back on it now, at my journey of knighthood and the magical arts, the name seems oddly appropriate, for it was there that I became a squire of Story, my eyes full of belief in the glow of the silver screen.

I was sixteen years old when the movie Labyrinth came out, and I saw it at the Squire.  It had such an effect on me that I sneaked out of the first showing room into the second and then the third, watching it three times in the same day.  The idea that one was moving through a labyrinth of their life, on an epic quest of self-discovery deeper into the world of magic was etched into my character, setting the tone for the adventure that would eventually become Into the Mythica.

Exploring the Unknown

As a child, I read voraciously, absorbing all kinds of stories about grand adventurers.  In particular, I was fascinated with the idea of explorers, heroines and heroes that found their way into new worlds, documenting their journey into the unknown.  Of beings that somehow found their way to a hidden kingdom or alternate reality.

One of my favorite stories in this genre was “Journey to the Center of the Earth” by Jules Verne, a tale about a group of adventurers that follow the clues left behind by an explorer which lead them on a journey beneath the surface of the planet into an entirely new world.

In many ways, this story deeply influenced my exploration of the magical world of the Mythica, where I would come to leave my own golden breadcrumbs for the people, leaving them clues to make their own journey beyond the horizon of what they knew.