Mittwoch, 27. Juni 2012

Great new post on Dark Mountain Blog

Find out about the lessons of Burdock:


Summer Fair in the Bethaus smithy-Crappy weather, but good fun!

On Saturday and Sunday we had organized the Summer Fair at the Bethaus smithy. We were privileged to have Craig Herbertson unplugged and live on Saturday. Craig is a Folk, Rock and Blues musician, and a very, very good one, if you ask me. Enjoy!
There was an abundance of delicious cakes, coffee and quality food as usual, provided by Jochen, our ex - submarine cook. You know what happens if you´re cooking bad food on a submarine? You have to scrub the deck*ggg*... So great food galore!;-)
 Craig played his fingers sore, but he had fun at that-or so he said;-).
 Willi dropped by also, and sat down at Craig´s table, and we had some singing and clapping and coffee and woodspirit-lookalike-contest*ggg*and enjoyed the music.
 Don´t you think we did not work that day!*ggg* I made this Sgian Dhú blade as  a gift for Craig. Spring steel, selective temper, and stands the test. 3mm spine thickness, 95 mm long, and it will get a plain stag antler handle, maybe with a clan crest, but we´re still designing. Guess Craig enjoyed it...
 Willi made some mini axes, too. Here he´s working with his Dremel mini power tool.
 Then Olaf dropped by to have me make a knife for and together with his little one. Olaf is head chairman of an archery club in Wuppertal and a real knife afficionado. I am not always agreed with his stance on knife collecting, but it simply feels good to have other people around that do not think knives are the essence of Evil!
 Mind you, for some brief moments, even the sun came out!
 This is Willy doing the finishing grind on... what...?!
This one-the knife I made for Olaf´s son. Spring steel, selective temper, spine thickness 3 mm, length roundabout 11 cm. I actually liked it a lot and would have kept it myself.... but as is, they got it at a bargain, nothing at al, to be precise *grml*.
 I also started a drinking horn stand for my sweetheart... This is the head.
 This is the tail...
 ...and the thing overall... has to get a bit longer still.

 Two mini axes / hatchets by Willi, a snake he made for his wife,
 And the "dwarf knife" he started at the industrial museum.
 I also made a dragon head knife. This is a detail of the work in progress, no blade yet.
 The handle is partly bush knife style.
 Willi at the forge.
 I then started an integral En - Nep from a railroad screw. Here the tang is being formed.
 ...and a hardy chisel out of the same material.
 The blade taking shape. The knife will see less than 1 % stock removal.
 The dragon head knife with blade formed.
 Topmost is a barbecue fork Willi made. I really like this a lot, cleanly made!
 Willi apparently does, too;-).
And my hardy chisel ready to rumble!;-) I like the stained and spotted surface, it was rusted deep, and the structure I find interesting.

So, to sum it all up, it was a very busy weekend, with a very wet Sunday. We made the best out of the lack of visitors, and had fun playing around and having good food. It was all less than ideal, but what could we do? Nothing but having fun as it was and planning for the next event. And fun we DID have, met a lot of nice people we hope to meet again.

And, if you look closely, the fair wasn´t even going so bad, for some visitors that actually mattered found the way into the smithy and will come again. We are now planning for the autumn fair which has yet to be scheduled. Watch this place!

Knifemaking tutorial at the Bethaus smithy-Keepin the fire burning

 On Friday I had a tutorial scheduled on knifemaking Thorid and Bärbel dropped by to fit a handle to a blade we forged some time ago. I was there early, so I had time to forge something for myself, too. Then those two friedly people arrived at 3 p.m. and we soon set to work. I had drilled a hole in the handle, some stag antler from a wildstock farm in the region, beforehand...

...and Thorid filed the hole to fit the tang.

This is the blade we forged from spring steel, 3 mm spine, with a selective temper, that stood the test;-).
The handle filed to fit.
Then we forged a bolster piece by chiselling out the hole for the tang, too, and then filing it to fit.

Thorid did well fitting the handle and, even if he was being very "cool" and "chilled" obviously had fun.

 We then burned the stag to give it some colour and glued the whole thing together. Since we epoxied it in and it´s a thin blade in the first, we did not peen it over a buttcap, for Thorid wanted the handle to be a bit longer. Below is some leather I brought to them as a little nicety;-), for sheath making was not subject of the tutorial.

 And Thorid was proud!
 Seems, Mummy*ggg* was proud, too, and righteously she was!
 They brought me this piece of mahogany wood I accepted as a part payment. They were low on funds;-) and I understand that well. Also I like the concept of bartering and trading niceties, and I simply refuse to get paid properly;-). Plus, they are really nice people, and it was a simple joy to work with them!
 Then we did a theoretical summary, for the project was a school project for a Anthroposophic Waldorf school. I accompgny this project and will write a report on that.

 After the tutorial, I set to work on my own blade. Strange damascus by Matthias Zwissler, torsional rose pattern. This will be a light crane bag user;-), provided I. Get. That. Darn. Crane. Bag. Together. Finally.*ggg*

 And as I rode home I was thinking it could get a name, but could not think of any, when this occured:

A great sight to behold, and the knife has a name now... funny, how the cogs of life work.

I rode home with a feeling of deep satisfaction,, tired but content. Blacksmithing does that for me. There are times when it´s raining hard, you´re soaked through and have the prospect of forging another 10 hours in the rain, but there´s never a trace of doubt about it. Viktor once said I had it in my blood, and though I find this being abit too strong a compliment for the factual quality of my work, I feel the same. I am still crap at forging really good projects, but I could not do without anymore. Much of this satrisfaction has to do with teaching to young ones. There is no better way to learn than to teach, provided you keep an open mind... in that way I want to thank Bärbel and Thorid for the experience, it was a joy to work with them!

Donnerstag, 21. Juni 2012

Street band with no name (yet;-)) playing at Kultopia alternative café in Hagen

It was upon our return from our weekly (my annual*ggg*) wednesday ride of our club when we came in from a muddy singletrail ride for a burger and a beer, two or ten;-), when out came the instruments of this young gun street band on their first gig. Beatbox, guitar, vocals, period. Great. We had a beer and quite some fun, and I invited them to the Summer Fair at the Bethaus smithy, which will take place on the weekend.

Mittwoch, 20. Juni 2012

An Triskell - DÄRÄRDDE!!!!

I just started this spontaneous painting. It was almost in an act of Zen. Nothing fancy, just a Triskell, if it were made with ordinary paint, but it is made from ritual paint I made from soil taken from the stronghold of the giant´s gate. I don´t know what will become of it, I just felt like doing so. To me, it symbolizes the virile power, and my inspiration at the moment is testament to that.

Schwelm blüht auf! - uncivilizing a city;-)

 Now this darkmountain blog certainly got me by the balls, for it´s what I have been doing for years, with great pains for the most part, and I did not realize there were other people like me out there. One big fancy of mine is the "Schwelm blüht auf!" project I undertake with my employer, the GSWS. At the core of the project is something like "official guerrilla gardening";-). We sell wildflower seeds at non-commercial prices to private households (1,50€ per package for 2 - 3 m²) and corporations alike.
 Also, the city management does use the same mixture now, so I can show you how it looks like in the entire city now;-). I am a bit proud of that achievement, for just two years ago, wildflowers were nowhere to be seen in cities. Now the neighbouring communes have jumped on the train - at least private households did.
OH, and we do not exactly encourage guerrilla gardening, do we? Ummmmmmmmmmmmmm.... er... let me put it this way.... erm... we have no control over what you do with those seeds, do we?*ggg*

There will be a photo contest soon, on who has the wildest garden in Schwelm, and all that is officially sanctioned. I have hope.;-)

Flea market finds...

I rummaged through the darkness of my cellar and what did I find? A cardboard box full with some forgotten goodies I got on a flea market in Solingen years ago. I missed them dearly for two years and then forgot about them. Funny, how a human mind works...;-) seems I did not need them so dearly at all;-). Anyway, I found them again, and now I am very fond of them. An ancient draw knife out of high carbon steel with a nice, thin profile, and extreeemely slicey kitchen / whittling knives, high carbon steel, 1 mm thick. I paid, if I remember right, some 5 € for a box, which incorporated roundabout 15 kitchen knives also...

I was enthused to make that find... I recommend this: Forget about your flea market finds, then find ém again, it´s like reliving the joy you had when you first found them;-).

Sarouel pants for the woods...;-)

The magic troll is constantly pumping out one work of art after the other, when stitching and needlework (and many other crafts, by the way)  are concerned.I am all crap with the needle, so I decided to put up to the challenge (which is none at all;-)) and stitch my own. This is a Sarouel pants I made, for I decided I would rather not wear some wraparound fisherman pants as often, and the scheme I thought up was quite simple. In fact I decided upon sewing the parts together only when I was making a wraparound fisherman pants and the parts simply seemed to fit. In other words, just felt like it;-), deciding otherwise, that is. It´s made from soft cotton, 3/ 4 length, with elastic waist and leg bands, and comfy to boot. I tend to wear garments like these more and more, even in the woods, simply feels lighter and does not compromise anything. I learned a lot by making it, and this is an aspect of bushcraft often overlooked: If you can make a trouser yourself (and it´s made without any sewing machine with 120 m of yarn) you can also repair it in the woods or try to make clothing in the bush. To me, it is also an expression of a lifestyle and a stand I make;-).

Freitag, 15. Juni 2012

The wilderness within - uncivilisation, a poet´s war

That dark mountain project got my mind racing. The receiving of its aims and its manifesto coincides with a development of myself that is currently on the way. All in all, I recognize the hand of the Fates in that, the dynamics of the forces of the land. But this is secondary.


What does it mean to me?

To make something out of it, I must first lift the shroud on civilization a tiny bit. It is funny: We all talk about being "civilized" and being proud of it. What does that mean?

We do not fart or burp in public, we do not have sexual intercourse in public, we do not go nude, there are restrictions on gestures and obscenities, we MUST go shopping, we MUST have this and that (try telling your employer you have no TV nor personal computer nor radio or even a newspaper abonnement and you get a picture). It is smiled upon being religious or believing anything, Christianity as well as Muslim belief, and laughed at being witch or druid, shaman or whatever. It is even worse with Buddhists, for they are instrumentalized by the wellness industry (as are Taoists). There are taboos and restrictions everywhere and yet we live in the most liberal of societies, meaning, you will not be persecuted for trespassing, not as gravely as could possibly be. Latin "civitas" meaning citizenship, controls by social measures the individual. It is commonly feared being tauted as antisocial, and we are led to believe that "the system" is right and righteous. While it has succeeded in providing the minority of middle Europeans and Americans with a relatively long period of peace and prosperity, it was achieved by a grave price to be paid, and we lived on a loan.

The European union, for instance, was founded in the belief of its stability. Do not take me wrong. If countries collaborate with each other, that is a good thing. Open frontiers might be disputeable, but for the most part, we benefited by it. The concentration upon economical profit of the few, however, has led to a financial crisis that might as well be a death blow towards the whole system. This is so because the union achieved rested upon economical values alone, and no union of the actual people. This is so because of the belief in the almighty financial standard set by bankers, brokers and other wizards and high priests of economy. Do not get me wrong: I am no dewy-eyed dreamdancer most of the time, but there´s one thing I might ask (as a man with a historical approach to ontology) to illustrate the culprit.

We postulate a sacral meaning in archaeological finds of, say the bronze age, when the ritual tool might as well have been, say, an umbrella stand. What, then, would following cultures postulate when they excavate the interior of a bank, pompous and megalomanic as is? With all that marble and brass and glass and fancy furniture? Just asking.

This system, however powerful, has reached its limit. Nothing wrong with that, shit happens, and it has happened before in history. What actually IS wrong, is that the whole bubble that´s now bursting was built on lies in the first place. And although I do not want to offend anyone´s beliefs, it was the predecessor of Mammonism who set the groundwork for the methodology of lying and advertising. I daresay the example of Galileo Galilei might do as an illustration. Nothing wrong with modifying opinions. If I´d learn the Earth were round while I thought it a disc my whole life, I´d have a discussion, and maybe then modify my opinion. That this is not only due to the almighty Enlightment movement, anyone can learn from the works of Platon and other philosophers, where there was a culture of discourse BEFORE the time of Galileo Galilei, and the manuscripts were available at that time. What did the church (I am talking church, not Christians) do? They burned him. I guess there are many kinds of problem solutions, and this has to be one.

Another example as to advertising is that most Christian churchs are built upon the sites of ancient pagan temples (The Kölner Dom in Cologne is an example). Many Christian fairs have a pagan background, as chrismas (Jul) and Easter (Ostara). They were chosen for a recognition effect. Then unique selling points were created. And negative stimuli were established.

I want to emphasize that I do not speak against Christians (once more). I only use this to illustrate the point, and Christianity is in the same treadmill as any belief other than that in the superiority of the economic system. Jesus himself threw the merchants out of the temple in Jerusalem, and we might at that. And Jesus was a man who spoke his word in a world where this was not wished for and where one could be punished far more gravely than we can nowadays. So my respect goes to Him and the God he stands for, even if it were for these things alone.

But all this does not work anymore, for we simply cannot tell the truth from the lies by rationalism alone, for rationalism in itself is (partly) a lie. We are not exclusively rational beings, and the so-called ratio we employ is just a disguise for our greed, our hate and envy, and those seem to be the pillars on which the system rests. These pillars have been tauted as "Evil" by cultures and myths ever since the first story was told.

If that is so, we have - as rationalists, and true rationalists at that only one option:

To postulate that we cannot know and tell the truth by secondary reception through opinions and the force-fed propaganda of a system built on lies.

If that is so, and we want to think on, we have no choice but to ask what value is still current.

I have chosen the path to go back into myself, into the woods of my soul, into the twilight. Any truth, I found out, has to be simple enough to be reduced to the max. What does that mean? First I have to ask the big questions:

I was born. What was before?
I live. Where am I headed?
I love. How do I make the most of my life and my love?
I die. What will be then?

It is a question of fear. Man is but another animal, but an ill-equipped one with no claws or decent teeth, but with an abnormous degree of self-reflection. And hubris, by the way. And we know that we will die. All culture is based upon that fear, all religion and all myth is based on the passing of life and the coming of death, and Mammonism feeds on that fear and its more complex subdividions.

- being not loved
- having no sense in life
- having no income and material prosperity (ultimately the fear of starvation)
- becoming sick and therefore weak
... and so forth.

If we as individuals work on our fears, we rid the system of a means of control over us. I am an ugly, fat, balding bastard with a funny stature, and yet I am loved by a beautiful woman:**ggg*. I have no TV, no playstation, and my bike is soon on the verge of collapse, but if I can´t afford it anymore, what the heck, I love hiking, too. I cannot afford hiking boots, so what, I´ll make myself some mocassins or walk barefoot.. When hiking, I know some plants to eat, fruit and other natural edibles to collect. I have a strong and deep belief, and I know my soul is far older than this life, I now know it to a degree that can only be described as exstasy. I am a poet, and while I am afraid to die, I am not afraid of Death anymore. I love life a lot, but there can be rest behind the dead, blank, wall... and I suspect there is a garden of twilight behind.     

And even if all that were idle thoughts, I would simply refuse to do as told.

And I am angry at the system, for it shits on everything that is holy to me. Friendship, courtesy, love, respect, care, the soul, and even the body.

I want to fight it, for it is the Grey, that I will fight, "Vrtreach the Cursed", omnipotent though as it seems. Is there hope?

There are many of us out there, not only in the the dark mountain movement, but bushcrafters, storytellers, craftsmen, artisans. And we have dreams, and life, and virility, for we are not entirely bundled up by the system. We can always discover the wilderness within, the world of myth and creativity. "Die Gedanken sind frei!" (Thoughts cannot be restricted).

But what is that wilderness within? How could we possibly retrogress? Shall we live as apes in the trees, feeding on bananas?

To me, there is darkness, a darkness different from the twilight within, but generated by it through misinterpretation. It is a challenge of the collective soul that we must face. There are helpful psychological properties we can rely on, though-we must not go without guidance.

To me, the figure of Telesphoros in the Jungian interpretation means a lot.  C.G. Jung had a distinct opinion towards spirituality. He estimated belief and spirituality as crucial for the mental and physical well-being of the individual. The current crisis of meaning in post-everything society can also be a chance. The Telesphor to me always has the function of a psychopomp. He is the eternal child, guiding the path into the deep and the twilight, "playing a board game like a child, the kingdom of children", and he leads the way "to the land of dreams". We all have this land within our souls. The otherworld is always connected to our world via the chord of our sould, and it has never ceased to commune with us-it was us who ceased to listen. It is still there, in the woods, in the experience of deep flow in forest environments:

D. Flow (Csikzentmihalyi) involves high-stakes outcomes, high intensity, intrinsic motivation, balance of demands and abilities, merging of awareness and action, absorption into the activity, present-centeredness, healthy loss of ego (or ego-boundaries), and self-transcendence. It is a primary characteristic of optimal mental health, and Flow is characteristic of many nature encounters, both nearby and wilderness-based. Mitchell shows its connection to mountaineering and, presumably, many kinds of wilderness experiences: "The mountains offer the antithesis of alienation; they offer the potential for flow." Goleman argues that meditation fosters Flow and uses this concept to explain a variety of effects and experiences of meditation.

Since I take Flow and the concept of Sartori, as well as the term Eucharist / Eu-Kairos
and the Druidic concept of the Awen as being if not identical, but motivated by a similar experience, and all those concepts offer strategies to reach it, and strategies there are, important to master the crisis, for this experience is a direct link to the subconscious. To reach it can rid myself of all the lies I have been force - fed, of all the names society forces us to fight upon. One could say I follow the psychopomp, the eternal child-and it is a very actual inner child, as you can see in this blog;-)- into the deep, symbolized by the cauldron of virility, the dark and fertile Earth. No lies here, but the real cake. To become uncivilized, we must follow our inner child and let loose. We must listen to the wizard in ourselves, the sage, the warrior and the dragon as well as the beast, especially the latter. We have been told our inner animal were evil. And that might be the case if it were about ravaging. But the Hornéd God is NOT the devil burning and roasting souls in the purgatory. The substance of the latter I very much doubt, if one pope can simply uncreate it, and there are so many lies, I simply cannot tell if either concept be true. What I CAN tell, however, is the unpersonal experience of ultimate inspiration by flow / satori / awen / eucharist / eu-kairos / meta - kairos, and from that cauldron an endless flow of myths and stories, of essays and pictures and knives is flowing, of feelings, psychic and corporeal sensations. By allowing them, I feel much more whole than I have ever felt before, and I feel capable to love. I love people, I love the Earth with all her animals and plants, I love the stars. This is the way of the Hornéd God, gentle as a stag and treading lightly upon the Earth, the lover, but also the hunter, and the prey at the same time. He, in turn, is but a spirit of the Earth, embedded in the law of the universe, and do I understand a black hole? There certainly is the ONE. But this GOD is so grand I cannot begin to imagine his grandeur, and I can imagine a lot of things. But I must not. I must not give it names, as long as it is there for good. I CAN talk to spirits, and I will not burn in hell for it. They are smaller, more intelligible entities, items of the Law of the universe that I can understand. To me, there is not "Thou shalt not make images of the Lord, your God", but rather "Thou cannot". And it is not that "thou shalt not have other Gods other than me", but "thou cannot". With terror I look into the abyss. The void between the stars dwarfs any human concept of hell and heaven at the same time. And at the same time it dwarfs the feeble efforts of a mad system, and even my fears, and even my death. And , here finally comes the culprit, I can allow my soul being a part of it. And with that power of the otherworld, the virile essence of the eternal cauldron, the abyss of inspiration, I can forge the sword that will not be the doom of tank and rocket, but the doom of the idea of tank and rocket, of whip and credit card alike.

And forging this sword I will. I will put on "that mask of burning gold" (W.B. Yeats) and the mantle set with stars. I will forge the blade in my spine to even finer delicacy, and I will allow my dragon to spread its wings. And fly. Above the ground and deep into the Earth, the rich and fertile soil. In forests deep will I wander as a stag, as a fox and a hare. I will feel the lust of the running deer and the fury of the wild boar.

I will allow my lust and my rationalism, my anger and my love. I will be giggling and crying and dancing and fighting and making peace. I will destroy, and I will heal.

Thus, or so I believe, the curse can be broken. 


There´s a good fellow living in the thicket;-) ( a robin?*ggg*). I cannot relate to his writing style, but the message I can relate to:

Another one from the dark mountain project.

Donnerstag, 14. Juni 2012

Check. This. Out.

I stumbled across this blog here.

If you do not shy away from thinking, and thinking consequentially and even radically, this might be the cake.

There is also the "dark mountain project". Its manifesto you can read here.

Of deep woods, of rock and stone and ruin and rain-thoughts on woodslore

The magic troll says I´m a junkie. ;-)

And she´s right.

I simply felt that urge to visit the giant´s gate cave again, which is quite a peculiar and inspiring place for me. It is a strong place with a vibrant atmosphere I have never experienced the like before, and, trust me, I have been to some peculiar places in my time. Submerged deep in the woods, the roots of strong and ancient trees seem to grow right into the soil, which seems to pulsate under bare feet. The sun is a faint jewel emebedded in a green sky. Leaves are dancing in a gentle breeze, and the air smells of the strong and bread-like scent of Earth undisturbed by man, even if it is not.

 From the hiding in the thicket, things get a whole new perspective. And, even if you might get the impression that I have now gone completely off my rocker, what with all that natural spirituality stuff you read on my blog, it has nothing to do with human concepts. I give it names. Man has done so since the first caveman roamed the land and cowered in the embrace of the earth, and many a myth has sprung forth from human inspiration. Fertile and virile like the Earth herself, it sprouts forth so many variants of alternative logic. This is wonderful. Misunderstanding that, man fights many wars, and it is all about a name.
 But deep down in the thicket, no names are given. No explanations are given, no answers, but then there are no questions, too. Just life, and the moment. Life of a fertility and a nearly violent energy, that just flows and takes you away into the realm of the green and earthy fire that burns and pulsates beneath your feet.
 In the stronghold of the Earth, your soul dwells naked in the soil. Waves of enery pulsed through my lymphatic system, along the lines of power that I stimulate in my meditative training-but this time without myself having any influence on that, and it felt good. My first impulse being fear, I smiled upon my little intellect that was being so jumpy, and calmed my spirit, and just let it happen. Yes, I am now becoming a part of the soil. Yes, I am now becoming something even more different than before.

And no, you must not feel this to be a bushcrafter. Woodslore is not incorporating this. You must not book in to this kind of spirituality or that to be a decent woodsman. Not at all.

What I found out, however, is, that the more I wander through the woods, and the more kit I make myself, the more I learn, the less I carry. Carrying less, I start focussing on my surroundings more and more. Having this spiritual eye on the world that I have, I open up to things.

 And my spirituality does not exactly have a name. It needs none. For it is mine.

 Recently, without encouraging it, mind you, many people came to me to ask for my spiritual guidance. What am I, your babysitter*ggg*?

 I am no master, and I have a deep suspicion towards people making that claim, for I experience that those are people telling other people what to do, and I suspect for either financial profit or to boost their own tiny ego. I have met the like, and the examples are legion. In the thicket, it does not matter at all what way you choose, as long as you get the problem solved. There are, for instance, many kinds of tinder to light a fire. What works for one condition does not necessarily work for another, but in other cases, it does. There are no masters in the wood, and even the difference between animal and human (is there one in the first place?) is marginal. If you so will, we humans are ill-equipped animals in the best of cases. No claws, no fur, no good hearing or eyesight, bad instincts and the like.

I find it persistently becoming harder to talk about the details of my spirituality, for it has something to do with emotions, psychophysical, psychological and corporeal effects, feelings and intuition. There are many pictures, many myths, but most people want them to feed their ego on them, to be better than someone else. I am not better than anyone. The asset is, deep down in the stronghold of the Earth, I must not. No explanations given, no fighting over names. I sat down and meditated, and let my mind sink deep down into the green twilight that has given me my name I commonly use. Ron said "More Merlin, less macho..." and this appealed a lot to me (boosted my ego*ggg*). Merlin is a message to me, and I really am on a path that seems to be similar (even if I would not dare compare my path to the one of Róf breoth wóden, his Anglo- Saxon title). But I tend to flee the bulk of questionable human companionship more and more in favor of trees and Earth and water. This is a kind of initiative journey, and I am well aware of that. After 20 years of learning, the first ring of the spiral has closed, and I am now on the beginning of a new one. Three will be there for me. I know my death. But I also know my life, and it is wonderful, for the force of the land, for that power I am really becoming addicted to feel sift through my body and letting it go again. It simply is like a gentle and loving touch. Harsh and violent are the ways of man in modern society compared to this touch.

There is also violence in the Earth, but a righteous one. On my travel, however, nothing could be felt about it.

 From below, the sky looks faint. This is the womb where legends and fairy tales are born, and I let loose my racing, raging intellect, to be born from that place also.

As I sat and meditated, I agnized a hare in the heart of the Mother, the moon and the huntress. I saw the fox, and the dragon. I saw the virgin, and the hunter hornéd. Before my hypnagogically entranced eyes, the Siddis appeared. And I let them go. I called upon them and conversed with them, in a way words cannot transport, and then they went on their merry way to make room for the power of the ground. Green fire raged through my loins, my heart and my brow, first filling me with fear again, but I let go the fear, too.

 And from the darkness of my underground womb I stepped out into the light, through the giant´s gate again.
 And I walked through light-enthralled groves.
 But well remebering the power of the earth, I danced a layrinthic dance of light and shadow. Why? Because I simply felt like it;-).
 And, by the way, don´t look so romantic*ggg*: The road in the valley made enough noise to remind me of the world in general!*g*
 Through the tunnel to make for the hills again I went.
And I passed by these ancient stones, the ruins of an ancient watchtower, forgotten in the deep realm of the forest´s green.

 And as I went on my journey, I came across this tree, a mirror of the sky. How come the sky being mirrored in the ground? In the water, in the tree, and in the fire of the sun glinting on the surface?
 The ground was covered with a thick matress of sweet woodruff near the place.
I ventured on towards the Raffenburg, a ruin of an ancient hill fort dating back to the eraly medieval ages.
 I climbed this rock just because I felt like it;-).
 Underneath its foot, again a cavern led into the ground.
I like the atmosphere around these ancient walls, and Jandark and many others of my friends know that place well. We had many a drink and many a Samhain ritual there, many a laugh and many contemplative talks. I treasure these moments of my life.


 The clouds were gathering, and the first rain drops stared to fall. It was a warm drizzle at first, and thunder was rolling in the far distance. It was a very special atmosphere, and even if I got soaked through, that did not even matter to me.
 The rain became a right downpour, but it made me feel alive, as I wlked through the woods towards the road to take the bus home.
Of course, the bus ride home was a right culture shock;-).

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