13 rocks, 13 stones

The thirteen tales of his life

"Diving into the Wreck"
The land of which gathering takes place, not only is safe-to me, yet contains some type of magik not well defined. Strange things happen to the mind. Days are smeared together, clouds take on shapes, there are strange lights glowing from the woods, during the darkest night, stars fall, and animal noises are heard from your tent.

Fairy's are deleated overlooked from the no-talent show.

I was planning on reading a poem, during the Annual no-talent show. This choice was made prior to embarkation. Risky perhaps, for most displays are quite flamboyant, and jovial. None-the-less, I thought, it would BEST display, my high school forensics background.

During 2007's gathering, Lark introduced me to the piece, while watching clouds roll during a lazy afternoon. Having not heard it before, I would spend an evening, coping the poem, into my journal. Adrienne's words, discription of a scuba dive to a shipwreck, had hit a cord: I found insight within.

During 2008's gathering, moreso to stock the internal fire with more wood, I had Lark read the poem, during an afternoon of sharing, with Salamander and Mamaki.

It was only mandatory, obligatory, and ritualistic, for me to read the poem. It was my turn.

As the week progressed, the nature of holding court with Salamander facinated me, held intrique. Yet, I still maintained gaurded, and held an open mind. As he had prior stated "we could go deep or shallow as we want". I was game, on my own silent account, that I would need pushing into the "lake", Salamander would have to do that.

As the week progressed, dance cards, got filled. As much as time isn't an issue per se, it gloams over like looming rainshower. We finally decided Thursday, after brunch would be a good time. Dive into the river, its probably a good idea.

What I realised out of the conversation, not only a new-found respect for Salamander, but a clarity and a peace. The discussion was similiar to therapy, sans the $263.00 fee. Sometimes best things in life, are free....

Being my third gathering, I focused my thoughts within, my involvement with the fairys, what brought me to the fairy's, and of the "wreck".

The "wreck" being the topic of conversation. Unknownst to be, I had held court with Salamander in '07, therefore only a refresher course had to be given. We'd had been here before.

His questions were unorthadox, unexpected, and fresh. They also contained the maritime allagories, that I salavate at the mention of. He suggested, and agreed that returning a certian someones phone call wouldn't be a good idea.

The ocean, seldom gives up its dead. Shipwrecks lay buried, corroding into the elements. The Titanic has become a type of tourist attraction. Dives to the luxury liner, keep asking questions, revisiting, probing for answers. For which there may be none.

What I saved from the conversation, was the absolute peace I felt afterward. I was in that moment, and that moment was o.k.

Gifts come in many forms, karma recycles and returns differently. Over the last few years, my life has changed. That is why I returned. That is what I was looking for.....

...inidently, the poem I was going to read was "Diving into the Wreck" by Adriene Rich".


*I "cleaned" up my friends pages. If I accidently removed you from the list, please don't take it personal. Just shoot me a comment, and ask WTF. It could be because one hasn't posted in his or her jounral in years, or I got click happy.*

How long was I, in this place? hours? Minutes? Decades? Certianly not, but possible. For on the land, time pieces are merley a hellish hinderence, a useless thread tied to "That" place. That place of wal-mart, of dead-lines, curfews, and periods, moments, defined and placed into categories. Numbers.

Because I have all the time I need.

I realised this, as I woke up from my slumber this morning. I drempt, and possibly slept walk, examining the fabric curtains, the moonlight through the window. "Am I in my tent?" I asked myself, as I slowly drifted onto the queen size matress, and warm, DRY, blankets.

No, this wasn't my tent. I had indeed returned from Kawashaway.

After such an amazing experience, still riding the energy produced and somewhat contained, I find myself today wanting to be alone, adjusting to my mudane home.

And drown out to some Kristina Das. The cd's were my self-welcome-home gift.

Slowly acclamating myself to the this old world from the land beyond. I had lunch with imyaj, had a wonderful conversation with mom and dad, and Jim (of Jim and Dennis) came over as well. The house was well kept, and Mr. Phat Borris was awaiting....of course I talked to Al-the-healer as well....we are having dinner tonight.

Slowly, that which was, will succumb to be locked in memories and totems....as if it were nothing but a dream.

This year at Kawashaway was about aniversarys. The 21st gathering, the 20th on the land, and the 19th of the Radikal Faeries. Or something to that effect. During the ten days, there was alot of reminicing, recalling, return to events that happened in the past. How things were, and how they have ermergeged, grown.

There is a partial of land available to us, for expansion. As we were piecing together the past, we were figuring out our fortune and our future.

I met Willow in the wood. A young soul, who was on the same cruise ship I was in 2007. There is no doubt, there was a reason for him to return to gathering after a 7 year hiatus.

This year was an aniversary for me. A year. A calander year, from start to finish, a foot race, of the moment I decided to heal myself. I decided, I made the choice for myself, to make a change. To LIVE THROUGH THIS. THIS LIFE THING ISN'T FOR SISSY'S.

Much like last year, I returned to no messages, or letters, or e-mails.

Funny how things run full circle doesn't it.

Except that I have changed. I have grown. I have started to heal.

My daily routine was to awake, and do meditation each day, on what I would learn, and what I would teach-to the day. I would have brunch, and dinner, wash dishes, and spend the early morning reading, doing art, or talking by cander light......


I return, from the woods. Pulled in about 8:00p.m. I will be posting my journal entries, and the experience over the course of a few weeks. I took 1,500+ photos as well.


All in due time....

Its a long road

Its a long road
Originally uploaded by kevinmergen
Two years he walks the earth. No phone, no pool, no pets, no cigarettes. Ultimate freedom. An extremist. An aesthetic voyager whose home is the road. Escaped from Atlanta. Thou shalt not return, 'cause "the West is the best." And now after two rambling years comes the final and greatest adventure. The climactic battle to kill the false being within and victoriously conclude the spiritual pilgrimage. Ten days and nights of freight trains and hitchhiking bring him to the Great White North. No longer to be poisoned by civilization he flees, and walks alone upon the land to become lost in the wild. - Alexander Supertramp May 1992

*See ya'all in 2 weeks.

A home at the end of the world
"he isn't lost, he left".

Retreat, hippie gathering, mens festival, boundry waters, camping: I've labeled the radikal faeries many things. Some people just don't get it. And that is o.k.

One doesn't need to "get it". This journey is mine. You have your own. Choose as you will.

My parents are asking for contact information, just in case they "need" to get ahold of me.

Justified, I struggle with what little information I have, to release.

One walks into the wild, because they 'don't want to be contacted'.

Kawashaway lacks running water, electricity, modern conviences on the simplist level. Mobile communication devicies fail--there is no reception.

Mundane names and your mudane life are disregarded. One is associated with his mind, actions, thoughts, and at times, how well he can suck cock.

Even if they were able to somehow relay a message to me, without knowing my "fairy-name", the "telephone game" easiy can be dead in the water.

Here's the deal: if you havn't heard a peep from me, come Aug 15th, enough of you have my contact information. Start connection.

I leave in 30 some hours... and counting....

Monday Morning Yoga Update
I've taken two classes with Sid.

What I appreciated most about today, is seeing the regulars shuffle in, and familiar faces.

Was honest with Sid, about my latest blunders in yoga. She listened, and we continued to converse long into the hallway. She asked me to come back, and I will. Informed her that I would be gone for 2 weeks at a mens festival...

She asked if it was that "fairy thing".

She knows White Ash. We hugged, and I felt good energy.

I havn't felt that type of energy in a long time.

The end has started...
Monday Morning.

The countdown and tying of loose ends has started.

I am 99.9% packed. Although I still feel after editing down a third time, that I have overpacked. I'm erroring on the fact that I am sleeping in a tent by myself, and that this is my second year, with the idea of staying the full 11-12 days.

I know there are some people that I may not get a chance to see before I leave...imyaj, you are so one of them....

I'm using this gathering, as a real chance to heal, to reflect, and just spend some time alone... and sleep all day.. and not worry about ANYTHING.

Readers who have followed the saga, along.. know exactly what I am talking about....

Its been a full year, since i have been up to gathering....

and last year was so FUCKING amazing... I can't wait to see what is instore.

Yoga termoil
Went to Yoga today.

It was taught by a english german accent speaking female Hitler.

I can't win.

Al believes this started a month ago, however I tend to disagree. This is the FOURTH time in a ROW, that yoga has SUCKED major balls.

I don't know what the fuck is going on. I'm so better mentally than a year ago, and yet my power house, is just..well wacky.

I feel like Goldilocks and the three bears. FOR REAL.

Tomarrow morning, Sid is teaching. *fingers crossed*. There has been *substitues*, and maybe just well.. not good strong energy.

I'm going to go to the studio EARLY, and have some "me" time. Then I will do her class.


Game over.

Prepare the way
Driving, long distances, is therapeutic. Watching the miles tick by, singing along to songs from the heart, while the mind wonders ahead.

Finally, the event I have waited for ALL fucking year, is arriving, by the hour. The end is in sight.

Tonight I said my farewells to my social circle, and relaxed. Tommarrow I'll hit yoga, and hopefully be on "plan". Wednesday will be here sooner that what I think.

Tonight I pack. The major hurdle is not the clothes, nor the supplies for 10 days of camping in an area with no electricity, no running water, and no internet. Once I am an hours drive away from Kawashaway, I'll merge into the vortex of no longer being trackable. I'll disapear...

..... I went into the woods to suck the marrow out of life....

This period marks an aniversary of sorts, of where i was emotionally, physically, and maturity wize, a year ago. A whole year. 365 days. The full circle.

The major hurdle is not the clothes. It is what to bring to keep myself occupied. What art supplies, what "things" will nuture me, help me heal....

I have some books, some art supplies, and misc "stuff". Will whittle the list down, and see what I come up with....


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