In the beginning, the silence was broken by a sound, a vast, resonant unity. AAAAAAAAAAHH! Sound and silence became rhythm. Rhythm grew into syncopation. Harmonies emerged. Melodies found life. The Great Song, born from nothing, is still being sung today. We are all singers of creation.
Stories are the Lyrics of the Great song. My story begins in a land, far away.
Once upon a time, there lived a Great Wizard King. This King, Dionysius Rex, knew the secrets of the wind. He tamed the fire. He shaped the earth. He let the water flow through the power of love. His magic was strong and his heart was pure. He learned how to fly. He shared this gift of flight with those he loved, and with those who sought his wisdom and knowledge. In time, he raised a family. He taught them all the Arts he could, and he showed them the power of love. His eldest children, both daughters, raised children of their own, passing down the ancient secrets as well as they could. When the last of his grandchildren came of age, The Great Wizard King, Dionysius Rex, passed from this world into the next; His bright spirit burning through its vessel of clay, returning to the Source.
I was 21 years old when my grandfather died, in love with life and its myriad possibilities. Nearing completion of my education in a college of Bardic Art. My prime focus was Sword Play. A True Martial Art devoted to the practice of non-violence. The earth shaping arts, taught to me by my family served me as well, in building sets and props, teaching my fellow students in the use of tools of power. All the world was a stage, and the stage was my whole world. I led Rebellions. I was Crowned King and Beheaded. When my schooling was complete, I traveled north to tell the story of the Spirits of our Land. I danced the Dance of the Deer People and the White wolf. I entered into the Lodge of my ancestors. I returned to Spirit. Further to the North, I traveled seeking wisdom. I apprenticed myself to Masters of the Bardic Path. One year of my life, indentured to the Masters of the Purple Rose. I was asked to teach the Art of the Sword to Master’s students at Wayne State University, in the post-apocalyptic city of Detroit. The years of hard winters and the dying city wore hard on my soul and I longed for clearer horizons. I set off on the Great Road with my guitar, making my living as I traveled. Trusting in the Way, I found music in New Orleans, Chicago, Zion, Santa Rosa, The Redwood Forest, and Ashland Oregon. I adventured, seeking the sparkle of gemstones to the Southwestern Desert where I decided, after a lifetime of procrastination, to run off with the circus. Circus Pandemonium was The darker side of Wonderland. A Gypsy Seer warned me of my folly, and urged me to find a brighter path. I returned to Ashland for my first Beltane celebration. This is where I met my Queen. 7 years would pass before our hearts became one. Here is where I left the human world, for the Realm of the Faeries. I read a scroll, which was illuminated by one of the greatest Fey Seers of our age. The scroll spoke of a magical market, which appeared only once a year. A Madman had once told me of a circus that would visit this market. I choose the Bright Path. I met Heroes, Wizards, Witches, Faeries, and Griffins. I stepped out of the World, and Into the Mythica.