This past weekend my future wife and I finally got to spend a weekend of our free time in the Slavonian city of Osijek, Croatia. A place I have wanted to see since before I ever left the United States last year. It is a lovely old city with a rich history dating back to well over a thousand years ago and more. You can still see the feel the presence of the Turkish who captured the city hundreds of years ago. You can even see the remnants of the Roman rule of even longer ago. What I liked the best about Osijek is that you can see the fragments of so many different cultures, yet it is all so merged together that it is seamless in its appearance. Making it a uniquely culminated treasure all of its own. Hotel Central, of Osijek, was built in 1899. A fact you are made fully aware of the minute you lay eyes on the beautiful old building. As the oldest hotel in Osijek, it is antique by anybody's standards. It is truly a gem, hidden away... yet blatantly dominating command of the center square located in the middle of the city. You can feel the resonance of energy from centuries gone by the minute you walk into the lobby of Hotel Central in Osijek. The place is decorated richly in the style of the early to mid 20th century. I had to pick my jaw up off the floor as soon as I hit the reception area. Checking in was fast and simple. There were no issues. The staff are professionals but still manage to pull of friendly in all the right ways. The minute the door to my room opened I had to do a double take on the room number just to make sure I was in the right place. The view of the square was equally amazing as the overall five-star atmosphere of the place, let alone the room itself. I could imagine being a World War II soldier taking leave from the action to indulge in a bit of luxury for the weekend. The setting was perfect. The ceiling was roughly 6 meters tall, the room was filled with a gorgeous vintage style furniture. Everything had lovely wood grain. We will be staying here again in the future. Aside from the buildings in the center square of Osijek itself, a statue of Ante Starcevic was the first historical landmark that we saw. It stands almost directly lined up with the entrance of Hotel Central. The statue is an immortalization of Ante Starcevic "The first father of the homeland," as he is known by Croats. The Cathedral of St. Peter and St. Paul is not even half a minute away from the Hotel Central in Osijek. It stands on one corner of the square, the tower having a magical view of the center of the square. I have seen many amazing photographs of the city square that were taken from said point. The massive neo-gothic cathedral started construction in 1894 and finished 6 years later in 1900. It stands 94 meters tall (nearly 300ft), and measure more than 6000 sq ft. Franz Langenberg is the German architect who designed it for the Roman Catholic Church. In the early 1990s, it was damaged in the homeland war hundreds of times. It is the second tallest cathedral in the entire country of Croatia. Over 3 million bricks were used in its construction. The second-day Zvjezdana and I spent traveling through Osijek was really poor weather wise. We still managed to see a bunch of awesome stuff though. A couple of the most interesting things being the remnants of the fort built centuries upon centuries ago in order to defend Osijek from invaders, as well as the oldest physical district of the city including churches several hundreds of years old. We actually rented a hostel in that area on Sunday night, which was really a cool experience as the area was mostly deserted for the time being. Earlier on Sunday morning, our first stop of the day was to see the Cat Momma and the famous Cat House of Osijek. Built during the years of 1922 and 1925 by Pauline Hermann. The gorgeous over-sized house would become her permanent home. At one point in time, there was a small public park attached to the property surrounding the house. Pauline herself was quite the controversial figure in the history of Osijek, Croatia. She came from a well-to-do family and married into another well-respected family line as well. She is known best for her zealous love for animals. She owned everything from cats, dogs, birds, to such exotic pets as a lion at one point. Needless to say, she was quite an interesting piece of work. The coffee bar inside of the Cat House was quaint and pleasant. Though it ended up being packed out by noon. It was a very nice stop-over before catching the tram back to the center of Osijek and onto the oldest district, Tvrdja. It was there we rented a room and spent the rest of the day exploring. Ana's Place, the hostel we ended up finding, had a cozy little room for us that was quiet and warm. The staff was kind and super friendly. They even made us coffee. We would definitely stay there again some time. Have you been to Osijek? What was your favorite thing about it, and what did did you think of the Cathedral? Let me know in the comments section below! Thanks for reading! Happy traveling, folks!
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My wife, Zvjezdana, and I recently made our second trip to Zagreb, the capital of Croatia. The first time we visited was back in December of 2017. So far we have seen the city in rain, sleet, wind, and snow. It will be nice to visit during sunny weather one of these days.
Despite poor weather conditions, the largest Croatian city(by area) is a site for any history lover to see and experience. Kaptol and Gradec being the most significant historical sections of the city. Kaptol was originally founded by King Ladislaus I of Hungary way back in the year 1094. Unfortunately, most of the first settlement and diocese was effectively destroyed by Mongols a century and a half or so later in 1242. Legend has it that the Mongol invaders used the Cathedral in Zagreb as a stable for their war horses. The Cathedral, which was built in 1217 was rebuilt in the late 1200's, 1600's, and 1700's. Other historically noteworthy features of Kaptol include St. Francis and St. Maria, both Gothic churches, which were also constructed in the late 1200's as well. For the first few centuries Kaptol had no real fortifications to speak of and then in 1469, for fear of Turkish invasion, towers and walls were raised for the defense of the region. Construction was completed in 1473. These defensive structures, including Prislin Tower, which is still standing to this day, helped to defeat Turkish forces two decades after the completion of their construction. In addition, structural defenses were also added to Zagreb Cathedral, the tallest in all of Croatia, during the years of 1512 to 1520, most of which still stand. Many of the homes constructed centuries ago are also still present in modern-day Kaptol. Today, in Gornji Grad, Gradec both towers and walls built for defense nearly 800 years ago are still intact. These fortifications were constructed between the 1240's and early 1260's to protect the newly formed settlements located on the hill of Zagreb. Bela IV of Hungary in the early 1240's established Gradec as a free royal city, basically making it a feudal territory, or property, of the King via the Golden Bull of 1242. The original layout of the city was that of a triangle, equipped with four main gates and several towers inter-connected with the thick stone walls. The oldest coat of arms of Zagreb can be found etched into St. Mark's church in the middle of St Mark's square in the heart of Gornji, Grad. This coat of arms dates back to the late 1400's. The old city hall of Zagreb is also located here in Gradec, dating back to the early 1500's and underwent reconstruction in the 1700's and 1800's. There is enough historical significance to the old city of Zagreb to write an entire encyclopedia on. For history buffs, one could never run out of interesting sections of the city to explore. Our trip this time, however, was for business and not pleasure. Though we did manage to extend our stay a day longer than necessary for business in order to do a bit of site seeing. We stayed at the King and Queens hostel, a truly royal establishment. No pun intended. It was one of the best hostels we've had the pleasure of attending. I really can't say enough about it. The staff was friendly and professional. The rooms were clean and tastefully decorated, in fact, the whole place was extremely clean and well designed with a nice creative and artful flair. It was the middle of winter-time and was snowing outside, so it was a huge plus that the entire building was pleasantly and adequately heated as well. The selection of food offered to us in our free breakfast more than made up for the small fact that guests are required to wash their own dishes. We also enjoyed the private terrace for smokers. It made a lovely environment for us to share a few drinks and have a nice conversation. We plan to stay here again on our next trip through the region. We also recommend this spot for anyone planning to stay overnight in Croatia's capital city. The main purpose of our trip was actually to visit the US Embassy so that I could take care of some very important paperwork. The place was basically at the very edge of town, almost removed truly, with the presence of a modern fortress surrounded by high fencing and guard booths. However, my business inside took less than 20 minutes, which truly shocked me. I only had to deal with 3 separate employees, 4 security stations, and 8 police officers. I'm not exactly sure how the process would have gone if I was not a US citizen. I have heard stories. After leaving the US Embassy we headed directly to the Croatian Ministry of Foreign Affairs in order to get this new document stamped with the official seal of the Croatian Government. This also took only 10-15 minutes and involved interactions with 2 employees. There were no guards, no security stations, and no police. Later, we wandered around the big old city for the rest of the afternoon and evening. We stopped at a couple of coffee bars, a little burger place, a really nice ice cream parlor(nicest one I ever saw in my life), and on to our hostel. The next morning we had coffee in one of the same bars from the day before and then headed for the train station and got out of Dodge. Have you ever had the pleasure of visiting Zagreb? If so, how was your experience? We'd love to hear about it in the comments section below! Thanks for reading! Stay tuned for our next adventure. Namaste! The drive to Pittsburgh with my mom turned out to be calm and uneventful to my surprise. I had expected to be nervously sweating the whole way to the airport seeing as I was headed for a whole new continent and to meet the woman of my dreams. We stopped at Burger King, of all places, for my last meal in America for who knows how long. I had a chicken sandwich and french fries with a Coke. I can still taste it, and that isn´t necessarily a good thing because the grease in the deep frier was past spent and needed to be changed, or at the very least heavily filtered.
I ended up driving my Mom´s Kia Sedona for about 75% of the slightly over 6 hour trip. Bless her heart, she had school work due at midnight that night and not only had she not even started it yet but she would have to turn around and head 3 and a half hours south to reach her hotel room in West Virginia, where she had a job to do the next day, before she could even start it. My mom is a master of sacrificing for those whom she loves. I respect her because of that more than I have ever shown her. The airport in Pittsburgh itself was practically hidden away in the hills of Pennsylvania. It was pretty big, though it was no Denver or Atlanta that is for sure. I had flown across the U.S. a couple of years prior and flew in and out of Louisville, Denver, Tacoma, and Chicago. Now I added Pittsburgh to my list of American airports that I´d had the "pleasure" of experiencing. I will always remember the Denver airport as a small city in itself. Even Iceland´s main airport and Schoenfeld in Berlin didn´t come close in side or impressiveness. I remember thinking to myself that the rumors about a NWO headquarters being located under the Denver airport was perhaps not such an outlandish idea as some might suppose that it was. The line to go through TSA security in Pittsburgh looked massive, it stretched well past the roped off waiting area. To my surprise it took less than 25 minutes to get up to the agents. Another short 10 minutes and I was through the body scanners, tying my boot laces, and shoving my laptop back into my computer bag. Shouldering my backpack I headed towards C60, it was the furthest gate in the entire place to my knowledge. Arriving to the terminal I began to remove my passport and tickets from my pocket and as I did so, to my great surprise, the lady behind the desk pulled out a microphone and spoke into it with saying something like, "Jordan Quinn, please come to the service desk at gate C60." I was so nervous they were going to tell me I couldn´t fly out of the country for one silly reason or another... nothing is surprising anymore. Thankfully it turned out to be no big deal. A couple from the Netherlands hadn´t been able to secure seating in the same row and had asked if they could switch tickets with me. I obliged even though at first I was a bit disappointed knowing I had lost my window seat for my first flight across the Atlantic. Oh well, that´s just the way things go sometimes I told myself and truly I felt blessed regardless, after all I was getting to leave the country and pursue the life I truly desired. Nothing could bring me down. 20 or 30 minutes after our scheduled boarding time we were finally on the plane and ready to go. The flight was slightly over 6 hours long, it is the longest flight I´ve been on so far to this day. I will never forget coming into Iceland, it was still dark but the sun was just beginning to lighten the sky enough to make out the dark waves below. The coast was lit up with lights and a boat or two was bobbing up and down in the water. It was truly a pleasant sight. Due to being the middle of December it was pretty chilly out in the open air of Iceland, though it was far from the sub artic tempatures the name of the place tends to mislead people into anticipating. To my understanding, Iceland is more green than it is Ice, and Greenland is more Ice than it is Green... point being, don´t judge a book by it´s title! The flight leaving Pittsburg had been delayed, so was the flight leaving Iceland. I landed in Berlin almost a full hour late. I had basically two hours to figure out how to get 25 or 30 kilometers across the city to the main bus hub in order to catch my bus to Zagreb. This is when my phone decided to stop accepting wifi from any source what-so-ever. Talk about fighting panic. I tried for 30 minutes to find a signal that I could connect to before I realized it was futile and just started asking random airport workers and security for directions. After speaking to 5 or 6 individuals I finally talked to a guard who pointed me to the train station. I had been looking for a shuttle bus and now changed direction. It was well after 1pm and I was trying to catch a bus out of the country at 2:30 PM. I ended up paying triple what I needed to for my train ticket (7.5 Euro instead of the 2 Euro it should have been) because the ticket machines were in German and I couldn´t google translate anything with my phone being out of service and unable to connect to wifi. On the first train I spoke to a couple of guards who again pointed me in the right direction to catch the next train which would finish carrying me across the city and deposit me about 1 block from the main bus station. I got off where they told me, I found a local buying a ticket at one of the machines and recruited his help in purchasing mine. I couldn´t actually understand what he was saying, and he pretty much just took the money from my hand and did it for me. I was paranoid that he was giving me the wrong ticket but it ended up being exactly what I needed. 20 minutes later I was off the second train and headed towards the bus station. It was 2:30. The buses left while I was standing in the rather large and slow moving ticket line. The next bus wouldn´t be leaving for Zagreb for 7 hours! I was depressed at first, like with giving up my window seat on the plane from Pittsburgh, but quickly recovered when I looked around and realized I was in Europe and half of my journey was over. I had driven several hundred miles, flown several thousands, and now would take a 900 mile bus voyage to finish it up. I walked around Berlin a bit, never straying to far from the familiar streets directly near to the bus station. I walked into a couple of stores, checked out a couple of food places, took some pictures like any other lame tourist would, and even paid to use the public bathrooms for the first time in my life. I had a tiny bite to eat and smoked half a pack of cigarettes while I waited for bus number N60 to show up. I was never so happy to step onto a bus in all of my life. It was also the first double-decker bus I´d traveled on. Way cool, much nicer than the Greyhounds or Coaches back in the States. Austria, the Czhek Republic, and Slovenia passed pretty quickly. The 16 hour bus ride didn´t seem nearly so long as it actually was. I don´t quite remember where all we stopped other than Prague and Vienna, both of which I pretty much adored due to the vast differences in culture and architecture as well as the general energy. Europe is nothing like the States. Finally I reached Zagreb after the hour plus long wait in bus terminal at Vienna. I saw Zvjezdana waiting for me on the curb and my heart melted on the spot. TO BE CONTINUED... I decided on Monday, November the 27th, that I wanted to try to apply for an expedited passport and was standing at the service counter at the Chicago Passport Agency being approved for one two days later on the 29th. In this blog post I will describe to you the details of that particular mini-quest.
The round trip bus ticket form Louisville to Chicago and back cost $81 online, or $127 in person at the Greyhound station itself, whatever sense that makes. Scheduled boarding time was supposed to be 2:45 am, with a departure set for 3:05 am, but the incoming bus was a good hour late. We ended up rolling out of Louisville and over the river into Indiana around 4:20 am. We had a 45 minute stop-over scheduled at Indianapolis which was turned into an 8 minute stop due to running behind. I relieved my bladder, bought a coke from a vending machine for $2.50 (to torture it some more), and a Twix for another $1.75 from another machine. The only plus to over-paying for that junk was that someone had paid it forward (intentionally or not) with a bag of BBQ potato chips left in the bottom of the vending machine for me to help myself to (which would have been another whopping $2.00 otherwise). We re-boarded and headed out for Lafayette and Chicago without event. Once on the open roads and flat lands of Indiana we eventually made back up the rest of our missing time and arrived in Chicago precisely at 8:40 am(9:40 am back in KY), five minutes ahead of time. The bus stop wasn't too crowded that time, when I came back later that afternoon was a different story. I relieved my aging bladder once again and made my way out onto the streets of Chi-Town, but only after a somewhat fair priced large cup of coffee from the only food joint in the place. The coffee was $2.50. Harrison and Jefferson was the first intersection that I came too, which took practically two steps to reach from the front doors of the bus station. I had my phone out with google maps pulled up and the passport agency on 101 W Congress Parkway punched in but my data was extremely slow and I was having trouble locating my cardinal directions to get headed correctly towards my destination. Two locals were posted up on the corner hustling something or another and I decided to ask them if they knew which direction W Congress Parkway was located. Unfortunately neither one of the men knew which direction the street was, and neither of them had any clue where the passport agency was located so they weren't too helpful at all. Oddly enough, the next twenty minutes to half an hour was one of the brightest moments in my day due to just standing on the corner kicking it with them as human beings. I didn't matter to them that I wasn't a gang banger and that I didn't have tattoos (or that my skin was a different color), and It didn't matter to me that they were obviously peddling something they probably shouldn't have been. After some point I asked which way down Harrison the river was, thanked them, and made my way onward. It's always refreshing to meet cool people, but to be able to openly discuss politics, the world, and things that truly matter with people who truly understand will always be the experiences I treasure the most. And isn't that really what traveling is about to degrees? Exploring new places, discovering new cultures, having unique experiences and expanding our understanding of people and the world as well as raising our levels of appreciation towards it. I remember that I felt blessed for the type of day that I was having. Stopping on a bridge along Harrison I snapped a few photos of an on-coming boat in the water below. It appeared to have a small dinner party of about 8 people in action on the main deck that was visible. A man walking a Scottish terrier, a man jogging, and a woman on a bicycle all passed me one by one while I was taking my time and enjoying the view around me. I followed Harrison until I reached S Financial Place and I hooked a left. At the next street I hung a right and I was on W Congress Parkway, my destination reduced to less than a 10 minute walk and before I knew it I was standing in front of the doors to the Chicago Passport Agency. I decided (very unwisely so) to go find a place to get something to eat, a cup of coffee, a pack of cigarettes, or possibly all of the above. I thought about searching up food places near me but remembering how slow my data had been earlier I skipped it and just starting walking in a random direction. Possibly two blocks away, if even that far, I came to a fairly busy intersection with a small gas station on the other side of W Congress Parkway and crossed over. One pack of cigarettes and a medium sized (horrible horrible horrible) coffee came to a total just over $15.50. I honestly wanted to be shocked that cigarettes in Chicago were more expensive than in Seattle or the Capital city, though I can't say that it actually surprised me at all. Returning in the direction of the Chicago Passport Agency, I sipped my coffee and enjoyed a cigarette. I had plenty of time to kill, almost two hours until my appointment, so I walked around a couple of city blocks for an additional half hour, explored a bit of subway, and headed back a good 45 minutes before I was scheduled to be. The entrance itsef was mostly glass with a bunch of security. I believe I counted 5 guards in the main area before being pointed to a hallway on the side of the room. At the end of hall was another security check-point which I had to remove my jacket, pocket change, and everything else including my boots before passing through the scanner. I found a bathroom a short distance down the hall from the elevators that sat around the corner and just beyond the security check point where I relieved my bladder once again, half the reason I decided to come in so early in the first place was that I couldn't find a public restroom and my bladder was again more than full and needing some serious relief. I washed my hands and headed up to the 9th floor where the application acceptance area of the Passport Agency was located and got in line. Two people were in front of me and in just about five minutes time I was presenting my documents to the first Agency employee. A quick look-over of my things and they were handed back to me and then I was pointed to another line. There was only one person in front of me and it was fairly fast. Once I was called to one of the probably twenty service windows my things were again gone over and handed back to me along with a ticket with a number and then I was told to have a seat. 10 or 15 minutes passed before I was called again. The actual acceptance agent who ended up helping me (Corey R.) was super proficient and after inspecting my birth certificate, state i.d., and travel itinerary I was approved and ready to go in a very short time. I was told that typically I could have taken my passport home the same day except that their printers were malfunctioning at the moment and I would have to have it overnighted for an additional $15.45. The overall service was fast, friendly, professional, and honestly the last thing I expected from a government facility of the sort. The total cost, $210.45, consisted of the $110 for the passport book, a $25 execution fee, a $60 fee for expediting services and of course the additional charge for overnight shipping with FedEx. Getting your passport can be quick and painless, though the thought itself may seem like some next to impossible task. It's really quite simple. The first you need to decide where you are going and research your destination. Look at things like the cost and location of hotels and food joints, and don't forget to look at all of the possible modes of transportation to travel before making a decision. The price differences between a bus, a plane, a boat, a train, and driving yourself are considerably large. It also doesn't hurt to take a few minutes and write down a few cab companies ahead of time. The second thing you will need to do is to gather the necessary documents for proving your identity. You will need your birth certificate and your state, government, or military identification card as well as a fully completed DS-11 form (the form for first time applicants - renewing a passport will require an even easier form that you can find here) which can be picked up from select post offices which act as passport agencies, from regional passport agencies themselves, or downloaded and printed off from various locations on the internet. Next you'll want to stop and make sure you have steps one and two completed, just keep in mind that whether it takes hours, days, weeks, or months to get your passport is ultimately going to be up to you. Create a checklist for yourself, mental or otherwise, and go over everything with a fine-toothed comb. Your only going to have to do this once, take your time, you don't want to be denied for writing the wrong date for your father's birthday and miss that trip to the Bahamas with your girlfriend like I did when I first applied 15 years ago. Third, your ready to make an appointment with the US Passport Agency nearest to you (you can locate the one you need here). They seem to be pretty decently dispersed across the country. After you select the one you want to visit you can make an appointment by calling the national passport appointment hotline @ , or you can simply request an appointment via an online wizard here. The fourth and final step is planning and carrying out your actual physical journey to the Passport Agency that your appointment is scheduled with. Make sure that you arrive 15 minutes early because your appointment can be deleted/denied after you are 15 minutes late or more but I suggest going in even earlier if at all possible. I arrived 45 minutes early for my appointment and I was actually done with the entire process and back out of the building in one hour flat. The Chicago Passport Agency was truly a well oiled machine the day I was there but I can not speak for the facilities in other cities or testify for the experience of applying normally through the post office or mail. Best of luck if your applying for your first-time passport. Slow down and do it right and it'll be a breeze! Feel free to comment with any questions! Thanks for reading, happy traveling! A message from US Passport Agencies: Proof of immediate international travel, the Expedited Fee, and an appointment are required for each application submitted in person at a Passport Agency or Center. To schedule an appointment, visit the Online Passport Appointment System. You may also call the National Passport Information Center 24/7 at 1-877-487-2778 (1-888-874-7793 TDD/TTY). OR To check the status of your application: https://travel.state.gov/content/passports/en/passports.html Autumn is the best time of year to hunt mushrooms almost anywhere in the world. Here in the Eastern side of the United States there are millions of mushroom species to be found. Honestly? Outside of the Seattle/Tacoma area of the PCW, or possibly some remote mountain range located on the Japanese peninsula, there is more than likely no better place in the world to find these wild guys. Don't take my word for it though, come and find out!
I took at least half a dozen trips hunting mushrooms this September and I didn't come back empty handed even one time. I know that I found at least 100 hundred species if not more in the first 3 trips. Several edible strains as well as magical strains were easily had, I cleaned, cut, and cooked bolins, portos, puffballs and some other random edibles to my delight. I had wanted to try this strain of mini puffers for years now and never seemed to catch them when they were the right sort of ripe. 100% clean white on the inside, the faintest hint of yellow, grey, or off-white and they have already turned toxic. The Mushrooms in the above slideshow are mainly Amanita and Cubensis... which are both highly magical by today's standards. Indigenous Priests, Medicine men, and Shaman sought after and utilized these particular strains of mushrooms for their psychotropic nature. Mushrooms, once referred to as "Flesh of the Gods" by our ancient Ancestors, have been used by people for centuries upon centuries for various religious and spiritual purposes such as contacting the dead or speaking directly with the Great Spirit. These mushrooms are highly dangerous and can kill you if consumed improperly. The knowledge of mushrooms was hard earned by our long ago relatives following the herds of animals they were hunting. They found that the mushrooms grew where ever the animals had pass through, and especially where they had left droppings. True knowledge of mushrooms is something that is dying out with the remains of indigenous cultures around the world being tamed and forgotten. The holy men of the Tainos people, the first tribe encountered and destroyed by Columbus, snorted powered mushrooms through hollowed out "Y" shaped bones during religious rites, as Mayan priests dried and ate them for similar reasons. Mushroom hunting can be fun, it can be more than that, but it can also be dangerous. Do not try eating wild mushrooms if you don't know what they are. If you are not 100% about a mushroom you should NEVER attempt eating it or giving it to anyone else for consumption. Welcome back to my blog, readers! I am finally back in the saddle after a six month hiatus. I will be updating my blog a little bit differently from this point on. Instead of looking back I am going to focus on the now (places I go and things that I do), and what is ahead as well (places I plan on going and things I plan on doing). I will more than likely be posting in the general categories of nature, survival and everything outdoors, including DIY projects, tips, and tricks. Thanks for reading up to this point, I hope you continue to do so!
One of my newest projects is my youtube channel: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCRJv-Ol_eilxCrFIkx9irEA The second week of May, 2014, marked the beginning of my adventure into the Arizona high desert. It was already dark when we arrived that first night. Three elk bulls were standing at the edge of the forest down the dirt road from the little semi off-grid cabin we were renting.
The largest ponderosa pine forest on Earth was located about a dozen miles from the cabin. It was a lovely hike around the lake, though I only made it once. I spent most of my time hiking the wilderness around the cabin, which consisted of about 15 acres. When I got tired of hiking that I wandered off the property and down one trail/dirt road or another. Three Ravens were also living in the area where we stayed. Both of us being Poe fans, we named them accordingly; Edgar, Allan, and Poe. Almost everyday we'd throw scraps of raw meat, fat, and vegetable scraps into a large circle made of stones and the trio would come and devour it. I believe we built some sort of friendship. The largest wasp on Earth, or so I was told by a local Ranger in Williams Arizona, graces the region. Trust me I believe it, those things sound like fighter jets when they come flying by. These wasps will actually sting tarantulas in their holes, and lay eggs in the spiders still living carcass. I enjoyed a lo t of things about that place but those wasps did not make the list. During my time in Arizona, I created an outdoor sanctuary or sorts. It was completely hidden by a tight grouping of cedars. A trail marked with stone lead weaving into the inner sanctum, an ancient style stone altar sat centered opposite of a crescent moon laid out in stone. Continuing on past the inner sanctum the ground was inlaid with stone depicting the triple moon symbol and opened up into a full working circle, complete with large stone markers at each of the cardinal angles. A short time after completing the circle as I called it I felt compelled to perform an experiment of sorts. There is a sort of energy that can be felt, observed, or experienced out there in the desert that I had never felt anywhere before (I still haven't) and I wanted to follow up on a hunch. I had read from several sources over time about a race of little people, not fairies with wings, and not munchkins or dwarves or hobbits. I am talking little people, like the nine to seventeen inch skeletons excavated in other states out west. In my reading about the little people I seemed to recall that they were said to have an almost obsessive compulsion towards certain types of shiny things; gems, crystals, metals, etc.. I was also aware of legends of portals having been created to enter the domain of the little people. I laid out small path in stone, from the inner sanctum of the outdoor sanctuary, the path lead to a naturally formed mini-altar in the base of a cedar. After I finished the path to the altar, I dedicated the altar to the little people, and I blessed it and the surrounding area. That evening I sat outside the new path meditating on passing through the veil and entering the otherside. Once things felt right I crossed over out of the circle and onto the new path. I sat cross legged and meditated on the little people, on my curiosity about them and wish to become known to each other, and other closely related thoughts. When I finished, I placed three stones on the altar. A river rock, some other basic rock I've forgotten, and a favorite smokey rose quartz of mine. The next morning when I went out to the circle for my morning meditation I glanced over at the mini-altar and noticed that nothing was out of place except for the quartz. I searched for quite some time. The shiny pink stone was no where to be found. I checked for days. It was gone. I experienced many deeply personal and spiritual occasions in that desert. I will always remember it fondly. Such a harsh environment, such wonderful treasure to be found. I arrived to a small Kansas town with a population of almost exactly 300 about the middle of July a few years ago now, back in 2013. I had been invited by a small group of "friends" that I had made from an online circle of pagans, occultists and spiritualists to come live with them at the house they had purchased a couple of years previously. They were quite the trio, let me just tell you, and not quite at all what I had expected based on how they had presented themselves online. Of course that is always a risk one accepts when meeting people in person from the internet. Anyway these three really topped my personal list of individuals who ended up not being who or what they claimed to be at all. I think some people have gone a little far into the rabbit hole a little too fast, but hey, that's just me. I could go into some really sick, strange, and disturbingly bizarre details about this little nomadic cult of three, but I will restrain from all of that, and believe me when I say that it's not hard for me to pass up talking about the subject. Period. In the very same breath however I will admit, just like with most bad experiences I've had, there was plenty of good lessons and positive things that came from it as well. All in all, after what must have appeared to the "leader" of this "troth" or "clan", to be some sort of warped power struggle for control of these couple of "followers" minds because I had attempted to open the eyes of these two "brilliant" minds who were blindly allowing themselves and their spirituality to be degraded daily by their so called spiritual leader (and all for her own twisted enjoyment and self-security), there was an attempt to frame me with a serious enough crime to do a lot of years behind bars and ruin my good name. Lucky for me the Sheriff was a wise enough man to see through their scheme. I really wouldn't have added this blog entry at all if it wasn't for the fact that I am going for an honest chronicle of my Journey. Kansas is not a favorite state of mine, and that is a hell of an understatement. After right about a year of the Bloody Kansas life I got out of dodge, headed for the Arizona high desert. The winter of 2012 took a toll on my soul. It really did. My girlfriend and I were renting an apartment located in a small town in East Tennessee. It wasn't the greatest of neighborhood, there was lots of drugs in and out for sure, but the entire town was pretty bad off as far as that is concerned so there wasn't much to do for it. I was deep into my studies at the time and was struggling to find work due to an injury I had sustained the year before, so basically I had way to much time on my hands for thinking.
A pattern has emerged every time in life that I have found myself with days upon days of alone time or time to quietly ponder things to myself. I have found that I can not relate to many of modern societies, values, morals, and beliefs. I have found time and time again that I can not settle for the material comfort and trimmings of entertainment offered from a cozy home and video games, films, television shows, or professional sports broadcasting. I always come to the same sort of conclusion: I seems like I don't really fit in. I am not dogging anyone for playing games, I used to play games for 5 and 10 hours at a time 10 and 15 years ago. I am not downing anyone for going out to the movie theater or renting something from redbox from time to time, I do the same thing. I am not belittling anyone who enjoys watching basket ball or is a football fanatic, I used to play soccer when I was a kid and still enjoy shooting hoops now and then. What I am however saying is this: I look around and people seem to be so distracted with trying to stay entertained that it makes my head spin. Reality is happening, but most people seem to distracted to even realize or tell the difference between real life and the fantasies and dreams they are living. It is true, our mind shapes our own reality, I would have to agree. I am going to skip going off on a tangent here, I really could rant and rave about how people misuse this ability in the worst sort of ways. I am going to bounce right over that subject and get back to the point: the winter of 2012 had taken a toll on me and my peace of mind. Everywhere I looked I saw drugs, and not just pot and the occasional line of coke or ball of hash, but heroin and oxycontin, roxies and opanas. The little town of Tazewell was a cess pool of needles and melted down high grade opiates. Out of the 20 something apartments in a one block radious from my own apartment, well over a dozen of them were heavy drug users, thieves, liars, cheats, cons, and low or mid level dealers. In the year that I lived there at that apartment there were 3 deaths by overdose. Needles were involved each time. It was a thick and sickly atmosphere to live in. I don't believe that I was every comfortable for more than a few minutes, and I don't think I was ever really happy there in that apartment. I associated with a few of the neighbors that were "clean" as well as a few of the ones deep down the drug induced rabbit hole. I met one gentlemen a few years older than me, a local baseball and football hero who had started a meth addiction when his father passed away 10 years previous to our meeting. His father had died of prescription drug abuse. Now his son was smoking meth on binders and abusing pain medicine every day. He was a good man and I tried my hardest to help him see the light, to see his potential and strength every chance I had. After practically a year of this it became painfully clear that no matter how hard I tried he could only ever change if he wanted to... and he didn't want to. I hate it to this day that Dave could not save himself or seem to let anyone else give him a hand. I will forever feel as if I left a man behind. After a point I began to become bitter and cold about the neighborhood and those who inhabited it with me, and then I started to see the whole world in the same light. It was nothing new, it was simply that it could not be escaped. It fed on itself and the cycle was eternal. Nothing good, everything bad. No hope for anyone other than the mega rich and powerful. No love. No mercy. Only pain. Only darkness. I truly do believe that place tainted my very soul. I know that it made my heart sick, I still have residuals sometimes when I think about what it was like there. It was like watching death walk about mascaradeing as life... and doing a horribly shitty job at it. I never want to be back in a place like that again and at the time It was becoming way too intense for me. I had to get out of there. I should back up for a minute and mention here that when I had first arrived in the area I began to form a very small and tight knit coven. My girlfriend and I were both pagan practitioners, as was everyone else who became involved. We were all different sorts of pagans; Wiccans, Witches, and Heathens for the most part. I believe that continuing my studies and earning my third degree in Wicca was a saving grace for me at the time. If I had not been preoccupied to a certain point by my studies and my teaching.. I couldn't imagine how much more miserable I would have been. I can not describe the feelings of despair and misery and of just being lost souls that the place had on everyone. Eventually spring would roll around and the freshness of the earth would began to lift my spirits and dust off my dirt covered soul. Working in the little 25x6 or so garden space beside our apartment did magick for me. I can not even begin to paint an accurate picture in words that would come close to doing justice to the goodness that being outside in that dirt did for me that spring. Even then though it was still an extremely sad place to be. Turning the soil in the garden and smelling the earth was wonderful... and then you would find a burnt spoon, a gaterade bottle or discarded lithium batteries. Signs of meth manufacturing by fiends and of needle bangers melting pills to be plunged into their veins. Even the rebirth of the precious earth was not enough to break the heavy disenchanting spell cast by the neighborhood. I had a disturbing dream one spring day. It was early spring I remember because my other half and I had both been managing for a little pizza place down the road. I had left the job a couple of weeks before I had the dream. Sometimes things in life happen that you can't really describe the importance of to others who didn't experience it or who weren't involved. This is one of those times. In my dream I woke up in my apartment. It looked exactly as it did in real life at the time. I was in my bed. I sat up and looked around and there was a man nearby and he was looking directly at me. I could tell he was in great pain from his facial expression. "I should have went to the hospital," he practically wailed "I should have went to the hospital!" At first I didn't understand what he meant, other than he obviously felt like he should have went to the hospital for some reason. That is when I took a better look at him, just trying to understand. He was very thin, too thin as a mater of fact, very boney. Long dark and greasy hair that looked like it hadn't been washed in ages fell a bit past his shoulders. Eyes sunk into his skull with dark rings around them. He was a very sad sight. I was reminded of the fiends around the way, constantly strung out, constantly losing weight and looking like shit altogether. Bless their souls. The man said it again, "I should have went to the hospital," and then with palms up he stretched his arms out to me. Almost immediately I understood. A large black abscess on each arm where the arm bends, on the opposite side of the elbow, where people tend to stick themselves with their needles. He had overdosed. He had shot up some drug into his veins, probably missed a few times because of being so messed up, and caused an abscess on each arm. He had most likely died from the untreated wounds and that is why he kept repeating the bit about how he should have went to the hospital. It all made too much sense to me, especially given the area. When I woke up from my dream I felt sort of sick. I felt sad, very very sad. It had felt so real, as if I had just been sitting there in my room chatting with this dead man. I could not shake the dream from my mind, the look of the man, the sound of his voice, the sadness in him and... the regret. I couldn't erase the image of his pleading eye, arms stretched out towards me, gigantic sores larger than .50 cent pieces on each arm black as night. It left me with a very ghostly feeling. I was so affected by the dream of the dead man that later that day when I was visiting with one of the residents who had been living in the area for going on two decades I couldn't help but mention it. Barb and I were good friends, in fact she had become like a mother to me. If I ever needed anything and she had it, it was mine, and that went both ways. Anyhow, I am sitting on the couch telling her about the dream when halfway through it her demeanor changed slightly and I saw her sort of go stiff. By the end of me explaining the dream her face had gone white and a few beads of sweat had popped up on her forehead. I told her that it had felt so real that I couldn't get past the feeling of it actually having being real. As if it had really happened, as if I had actually held a conversation with this man. Taking a long draw on her cigarette, eyes a bit larger than normal behind her glasses lenses, she looked me straight in the face and commenced to tell me that It more than likely was real. That it was more than likely a man named Marty of who had lived in more than one of the apartments on the block before he had passed away not long before I moved into the area. She told me that I had described the way that he looked during his final months perfectly minus the black sores. Marty had laid in the apartment for 3 days before his body was found. He had indeed o.d.ed. The needle was found beside him. I was stunned and couldn't believe it. Barb let me know that he had not been a bad man, that he had only lost his way to the drugs. That his daughter Katie and most of his friends had abandon him to his drug fueled downward spiral months before he perished. That is when I realized I actually knew Katie, a chipper 18 year old girl I had worked with only weeks ago at an establishment in town. She had even mentioned being distanced from her drug using father shortly before his death I recalled after making the connection. I was sort of shocked at the "coincidence"... and then I began to think that it was perhaps no coincidence after all. I think Marty needed to be set free. |
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December 2018
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