Peter - Chapter 11

Peter - Chapter 11
Lipton could see light ahead. The higher most trees were thinning out and the lower burrow of the hill fort was visible. Having been under leaf cover for nearly two hours, breaking out from the woods into bright sun light at the hill fort edge, felt revelatory. A rebirth. The woodland womb had been a steep march in cool, dark canopy. Peters story about the Clun Coven had killed the time but now they were delivered from the trees into the light.
Peter: "Some hill fort, eh?" Peters pride in showing this hidden treasure of British history.
Lipton:"You can see how secure it would have been. You'd see any attackers a good three hours before they arrived."
Both looked down across the green fields below, stretching out, up towards Church Stretton, the nearest land of comparable height. A five bar gate delivered a point of rest and wonder after the long uphill hike. Slowly reoxigenating their blood as adrenalin fell to allow a natural flood of endorphins. The experience was something both Lipton and Peter had forgotten during their heroin use. Turning eyes from the view to look at each other, brotherly smiles spoke beyond words scope. The opiate addiction that had softened and spoiled, in equal measure, so many years, the lives of both, was over. Their neuro systems returning to normal. This was the stipulation Jesse had insisted on. Both had long known that shamans needed pure systems to read the reality around. The complex interconnection of life, bacterial, animal, vegetable, fungoid, viral, spirit essence and the vast array of trans dimensional entities, was of such fine harmonic balance, shamans must have their own multiple mental, spiritual and bodily systems equally balanced to be at one. For it is a single organism of which we are an aspect. The shaman, the Druid, people of all lands, as consciousness evolved, had individuals that retained this sensitivity to the environment. Pagan spirituality invariably was the initial system of understanding. These select individuals were of crucial importance to the tribes survival. Their abilities to recognise the underlying roots of invisible dangers. Disease, madness, spiritual disharmony, weather, the numerous forces affecting the groups, forces beyond human control, invisible to the majority, were only understood by the shaman. Each culture had differing, independent metaphors to describe this other parallel world. Their many roles, medicine man, priest, philosopher, rendered them respected and protected. Without one, a tribe would die off. They maintained the connection to the earth. The bridge or channel for humanity's communion with the one. Animals intuitively react to the changing conditions, changing direction in harmonic turbulence. Mans evolution built on his specialism, came at a cost.
Lipton: "That story you were telling on our climb. Don't sound the actions of the shamans I'm aware of. Those demon eel fish, burrowing into arsitovag, eating a hollow flesh tube linking twat and mouth. Most I've met don't cross dark dimensional demons with fish. Are the Clun coven freind or foe? These suicides. Is this another similar thing? Another spiteful curse? I'd always thought the pursuit of money and status was as much a pitfall as heroin. Worse, in fact. If you break a leg up here, you'd prefer some gear. Money can't help when away from civilisation. Leave them to it, I say."
Peter: "That story is regarded as true. However, it was 1200ad. It was not written down for 400 more years. It's sculpture or evolution each telling must have favoured details the story teller knew would bring in a shilling when he passed round his hat. It wasn't done in spite or jealousy of aristocratic greed, they'd seen a gene line developing, evident in the torture and persecution those posh families dished out. They nipped it in the bud for all, not themselves. It's a shame no Bavarian Druids ended the gene pattern that led to hitler. More of importance is how it serves as a tool to understand how the Drulords, in Orcadia, Eire, Wales, Cornwall and Ireland see the Clun. They are revered as the purest line. Untainted nor diluted since the Roman genocide. Their persecution was systematic. The others found places where no outsider could find them. Though this lot escaped to Clun. Perched on offas dyke. Roman Christian England one side, Welsh independence the other. A perch from where they could watch the virus of the mind Roman invasion brought, yet they could have run into Wales if the bullying turned to full on genocide. There they sat out Roman occupation. They were never popular. The locals had turned to Christianity. The brutality they endured could be exaggerated. But, whatever happened, it changed them. Shamans as we know them serve the community. The Clun are psychologically disturbed. They work for the common good though man is less respected by them than all other animals. They consider the other groups of Druids collaborators. Gaia, all wildlife has a virtue beyond their fellow man. To bring man down. Establishment man. Mainstream man. Only by the culling of vast numbers do they see possible rebalance. We hate straight folks. But not like them."
Lipton:"Could be its they who are right. True, the story had a relish in the horror. The gnashing of the vaginal meat of the ruling class, it reminds me of Robin Hood. All people who grow up in England with a class system that ensures the wealth is in the hands of a few. A royal family that derives power, not from having fine minds, not by vote, but by birth. Inbred idiots. Humanity's worst, given the power. An unassailable system none can enter. Robin Hood rights these wrongs. The crash of Dianna too. The snob princess. Killed by her own vanity. Her love of the camera and self adoration, brought to its ultimate conclusion. Moral tales. To give hope. But in truth, life isn't like that."
Peter: "I don't doubt it. But they have grown to believe it is too late. The environmental damage too severe. We feel time is short. Permanent change is here. We've talked many times on this. But man is an animal. Anything he does is natural. We don't think of Gaia as dying in mans control. We have hope. No man, Druid or not, can stop what is to occur."
Lipton: "To think mankind has the power to destroy all life is a continuation of mans self deification. As delusional as thinking he can stop the climate change he has caused. This plague of human over population will be cut down. Gaia has systems of self regulation. This extinction man initiated is horrific. I can see the Clun coven view. Western civilisation was a project of unmitigated self centred stupidity. I can feel it. You must too. This point, the failure of science and reason has left man alone, with no god. His project in tatters. Humiliated and scared. They are stood in their suits, looking at the horizon, wondering what method of population reduction it will be. Plague, pestilence, famine. But it is in the post."
Peter:"Don't you know it. The others I have spoken to are content. They knew it would happen right at its start. The point of their hidden pockets was to preserve the craft, the connection to the earth, waiting for this to work its way through. Most are looking forward, knowing their grand children, or theirs are going to be there. To take up the baton. Ready to return the craft to the small groups who survive this human decimation."
Lipton: "Don't the Clun lot feel the same?"
Peter: "Who knows? I guess they must. But each walker goes missing I'm the hills. These suicides. They have achieved an incredible feat. A few more years and all they despise will be gone. Just a century more. Patience for a last few generations. We need them to hold out. If this suicide epidemic goes noticed as some Clun nutters perverted weirdo witchcraft, all that waiting. Year on year, from Roman invasion till now, will all be for nowt if the coven are split up in to jails and nuthouses. They need saving from themselves!"
Lipton: "I see you point."
Peter: "I'm not sure why we've been drawn here. Why the twenty remaining Druids aren't intervening. From what I was told in Orkney, their agreement when the Roman genocide killed off the majority, was to form the five covens, independent from each other. They have stuck to this rigidly. If one group had been rooted out, under torture, they wouldn't know where the other groups were. None of them guessed all five would still be here. The Cornish lot are gentle folk. They operate within mainstream society. Obviously they keep their nature secret, you wouldn't guess to see them. Some inter breeding over the years has diluted the blood. But their still plenty pure enough. Never met the Irish, nor the deep Welsh. The Orcadians, well, I'll talk of them another time. They're all aware the change has begun. The storms and floods have them readied."
Lipton: "So how do they see things panning out from here?"
Peter: "Well, I can only tell you the Orcadians vision and the Cornish. Climate change is at tipping point. The trickle we are seeing soon becomes a downpour. Remaining rainforest where the earths finest shamans live is secure. Warmth increases. Once ice caps melt the oil industry find new hidden reserves. From now till 2150 or so, mankind has a technological super growth. The polar oil renders the Middle East unimportant. Religious wars leave Syriam Iran, Iraq, Israel, Lebanon further into Turkey, Russia even Easter Europe one desolate radioactive dessert. Earths ingenuity will no doubt find a way that life forms can use the toxins but that's way distant. The polar ice caps gone ushering in the serious chaos. Weather conditions beyond our conception. 90% of all life will become extinct. The planet will go through a desolation similar to earlier ice ages though this will be a liquid soup. Already we've entered the bacterial period. Plague when it comes wipes out continents of people in a few short years. Viral mutations become the earths dominant life form. Till the host pool is gone. Western Europe becomes a fungoid jungle. After the bacterial period the fungoid era follows. Human numbers drop into the thousands. Near extinction. Once planetary re stabilisation returns, humans return to about half a billion. This figure stays. The isolated pockets of humanity are aware of the others but never communicate. Their history lesson dictates a new humility. In time, each of the few ares of human habitation evolve into separate species. Five new animals. All of different ability, nature, mind. It is for them the Druid preserved the gnosis. Shamanic or Druidic man continues. Hidden away whilst the western project works its way to its own destruction, then continues after they are done."
Lipton: "Fucking hell. The Druidic time tunnel."
Peter: "That's my brief synthesis of Cornish and Orcadian Druidic prophecy. But how many prophecies come to pass? Not many. Both covens had these stories, passed down to them. There was a romantic feel, like Greek or Norse mythology. But, to be fair. Given they'd not met in two millennia, the similarities were uncanny. The fungoid euro jungle, ace!"
Lipton: "I can see a lot of it myself. The warm moist winters we have have meant rat populations grow massive. Last winter it felt like a Petri dish."
Peter: "I know what you're saying. It's a bacteriological heaven. A huge population of host bodies to infect. Germs, infections and viruses must feel their time has come. Conditions are perfect. Western Europeans have over used their anti biopics. No shield remains. The 2015 migration of Syrians, afghanis and Somalians, all bringing in germs they're immune to but carrying. Plague is inevitable."
Lipton looked invigorated by the prospect. Punching the air, kicking at imaginary enemies with karate moves. "Fucking ace! I hope it's a zombie apocalypse. Like the walking dead. All the city shoe shiners in derelict office blocks. Us travellers would be the only ones ready. Slashing through the rotting fuckers. Down you cunt!" as he thrust an invisible sharpened steel pike through an imaginary zombie before him.
Peter laughed at Liptons glee, "why wait? They're already zombies in my eyes."
Both enjoyed the moment. These fuckers had it coming. Mainstream society were cattle, obliviously walking to the slaughter house.
Lipton: "You'll have to tell us about when you were in Cornwall. You've never said what you did in the Orkney Islands either."
Peter: "Yes mate. They were weird times."
With this jumble of thoughts spinning round their minds, they turned from the gate, calling the dogs back from the woods where they'd been running about, and walked toward the hill fort entrance path.


Humans were a bit of an oddity of evolution. Physically awkward, inferior to most in speed on both land and water, inept at negotiating the terrain. Vulnerable as pray and struggled in most environmental conditions, all had been gambled on the intelligence. Through trickery and deception, the use of tools, a cruelty beyond all others, enjoying killing for pleasure. Man found himself top of the heap. Consciousness enjoyed by all animals reached increasing levels. The amygdala, the brain organ controlling unconscious bodily functions in animals, is covered by the neo cortex that cloaks the animal sub brain. This organ does the thinking, conscious stuff. Through evolutionary drift, the human neo cortex ballooned in grotesque disproportion, crushed and folding, as its surface area increased, the restriction of the skull meant a folding of its outer skin. Man became conscious of being conscious. One step beyond. Able to reflect on themselves, to explore the wonder of being, wallow in their greatness. The stories they told, to themselves and others, became their defining ability. This self reflection delivered the illusion of seperation. It felt as though they were spirits, occupying a body. Illness may suggest animal common laws, brain damage also pointed to the mind being dependent on a working brain. But awareness of self, individuated, looking objectively on reality, gave man a feeling of superiority. Animals were forever in the moment, no self consciousness means full embrasure of the now. Man floated about, worrying about the future, recalling the past, rarely here, unable to join the dance of life other than as an enbarasing dad dancer. Much later, the feelings of being a spiritual being, the pilot of a flesh vehicle which they thought of as there body, a seperate temporary device to carry the spirit, grew to be normal. Even those who knew of evolution still lived like those who liked the infantile stories that made sense of their being. Benevolent creators, rewarding the good, punishing the bad. The illusion grew to a common acceptance, their spiritual natures were confirmed by the discovery of a superior being. This made sense. It did seem odd that all this was chance, that we were mere animals. Man knew all along he was special so this super beings discovery reassured them. In a gift of true love, this great being sent his only son to earth to explain how he'd made all there was. His favourite work was man. He said we were his favourite. His son was sent to man so they knew. Everything else he made would die but they were all there as a background for the humans. Humans were a bit like him. Not gods but half way. They had to use what was around them as an experiment. He explained that man alone had a transcendent spirit. The earth and all its species didn't matter, use them up creatively. But, to get to heaven after your body dies, he explained, you must believe in me and love me. Asking them to close their eyes and count to ten, whoosh, he was gone. Hiding himself. Once Christ left, God kept hidden but he was still watching.
Human consciousness began mans drift away from the environment. Spirits being eternal and not material showed that they were the important part, all the rest was of little worth. A support system to the flesh journey, the test man must qualify to go on, free of body, into heaven.
The shaman, a physical reminder of mans animal nature, his line of communion with the earth, survived in few places. In rain forest. In hidden tribes. Shamans of many types, continued their communion with the planet. Quietly embarrassed as the rest of mankind became delusional and pompous. Christianity may be the height of anthropocentric beliefs but the abrahamic religions share the focus on self importance to the divine, evident in mans singular gift of consciousness. The resultant opening of moral decision, something animals appear not to have, is mans responsibility. This 'gift' sees human life as a test of moral choices. The pinnacle being the test of faith. The gift of reason, presented by the divine absence, must overcome itself to believe despite evidence. Shamanic connectivity has no similar concept. The world is evident, she offers entheogens that permit communion and clearing of a veil that hides the many other dimensions. The Christian mindset holds of a single divinity, a single outer reality of which humans perceive to degrees of accuracy. The divine abscence being the only true other, renders any spiritual vision delusional. The shamanic mindset sees all life inter connective. Each living a different personal reality. Consciousness projecting its own, individual worlds.
Self consciousness had problematic effects on mans peculiar divergence from the other animals. Whilst engaged in one activity, they were able to think of another. Through story man could carry out horrific acts whilst creating a dialogue of reasoning that could reverse the true nature. No action was of itself of any specific morality. Context in the story delivered an acts virtue. Other animals were trapped by reality. Other apes used similar skills, but none so extremely as humans. Story would, in times fullness, permit man to walk blindly in to his own destruction. By a collective belief in our greatness of mind, though the planet appeared to be changing, flood and storm, tsunami and plague, all dismissed in a collusion to look away. Like in all mans great stories, it was when all seemed lost that the hero would snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. A lion would kill to eat. A man could kill to eat, but also he could kill and make it good, to save others from a murderer, to appease imaginary beings. He could rape a neighbour for the good of all, by explaining to the community he had seen his victim plotting with a demon to bring disease on them all, his duty, a selfless act for the common good would see his stature grow. The less gifted in mind could see this man must be exceptional as normal rape was obviously wrong. The rapist being of noble birth must have higher wisdom. Pride in his deception revealed his goodness. The superficial hid deeper truth. The story mattered, not the action. Thus, it may seem wrong to catch a monkey, open its skull to insert wires connected to an electrical box. The shocks may look like a grotesque torture. But this was science. Intelligent men were learning how to prevent future suffering.
One very special mans life story serves to explain how things would go. Yes, he had killed, but it had come to him his victim was on a mission to kill the others in the special mans group. This he knew from divine gnosis. He wasn't a murderer, but a hero who had just saved them all. He must be in touch with a higher being. Informing the villagers of this unique connection, they gave him pride of place. Further requests from above became more frequent. Reporting the higher beings instructions to the group, he would gather the things this being needed. By offering the being these gifts, this would ensure the special man could prevent the invisible being spoiling their harvest. Though seemingly strange the requests were understandable only to the special man to whom the higher being had explained all. Lower minds must not be angered, for they could not hope to understand. The being was wiser beyond their simple minds. Fools may not understand why their daughters required cleansing through the special mans phallus, nor why each must donate gifts to him. By lowering their heads, clasping hands, and closing their eyes they may, if sufficient work was applied, be given some of the special mans advanced talent. Those who could not see felt ashamed. This being was invisible to them but by cunning pretence they were able to find acceptance within the special mans inner circle. Singing songs of praise loudest. Most enthusiastic in the burning of apostates. As the being took more of the special mans time he found less to harvest his crops. Speaking to the group he explained he must let them down. His piety was indeed, beyond question, yet even the purist of soul, still had to eat. He shrugged, said he was sorry, but what could he do? If he starved, they'd all have no access to the higher being. The being might bring storms but he simply could not talk to the being and do his work. The village gathered to discuss this problem. The special man was of deep generosity. After much begging from the people, the special man showed he could bend to help them out. He would give up joys they shared, working in the field, carrying the water, clearing the bottom soil. But he could only be able to give his life for the common good if all the people brought him a portion of their food. Everyone now happy, he would talk with the higher being all week, locked in his large house, discussing the beings requirements to ensure there was no famine or pestilence. On Sunday, he would report back, explaining what was needed. As the being explained his secrets, placing them in the special mans mind, just as other common folk experienced their simple ideas. Writing these teachings down in a book to be handed to his son. There were always going to be the odd idiot. Some men, of deep arrogance argued that because their weaker eyes could not see the beings greatness, he wasn't there. They spread heretical lies. Claiming the special man was not at all special. They refused his kind offers to purify their daughters. How angry were the tribe as, inevitably the years crops were devastated by the beings decision to allow the weather to do as it wanted. These atheists, in their selfish pride had spoiled it for everyone. The special man reluctantly accepted responsibility the being had chosen him alone for, he'd see what the higher being would accept in way of apology and try put right the harm the atheists had caused. Being a pure and caring man, it hurt him more than them as they burned at the stake. But this was the higher beings decision, he was just the messenger. He was forgiving and good. It was late, but, out of great kindness, he agreed to see the daughters. Great joy spread amongst them as the special man agreed to purify them. The girls knew he had purified many, this good work had left him tired and limp of cock, yet with soothing oils they were able to massage his divine phallus, back to life. All were grateful as he neglected not one, all enjoying the purification. But his duty was to the group, not to one man. Another regular problem came about through madness. Being the sole chosen line of communication to the higher being, only he could have mystical revelations. Most years one or two heretics would have visions. Such madness was permissible but, if the loony claimed he had congress with the higher being the special man explained it was him who invariably got a bollocking. He'd report this to his community on Sunday explaining that these apostates had to be excorsized. All knew the pain he endured. No man, let alone one so special, could see others suffer. Even heretics. Normally, to clarify to the group the heretic would be tested. Any culture should permit the man a trial. If they were telling the truth, the being would intervene. So, by a number of creative methods the special man was offered from the higher being, fire, chopping of bodily parts, dunking in water, even simply beating the heretic with sticks could get to the truth of the matter. Most confessed their lies after losing a limb or two, but extreme cases saw such deep insanity, men and women would lie until death. This finality an unquestionable confirmation of heretic lies.
Becoming each day more special, the work he must undertake became hard to shoulder. There was also a king. The tribes richest and strongest man. To clear up any issues regarding the Kings status, the special man accepted a large chest of gold coins. This gave him space to discuss the Kings position with the higher being. Reporting back, he could proudly reveal, the king was the beings ruler of choice. He rarely changed his mind but there were a few leaks in the special mans roof, a place where all gathered to hear his reports from above. Being now close mates, the special man informed the king that, if he helped pay for the houses upkeep, he'd make sure the being would continue to sanction the Kings status. To be fair, of late the king had been round the village, making sure all residents felt safe. His burly group of freinds would always look out for them, given his subjects helped pay for the lost wages the burly fellows incurred whilst unable to work due to protective duties. The king and the special man became very close. After delivering some barrels of mead to the special man, the king was pleased to hear the higher being had informed the special man, stretched by the tribes growth, that the royal cock had now been officially sanctified. Another tool of the divine to purify the many young girls now coming of age. Passers by often heard the sounds of holy cleansing. The burly Kings freinds would bring the girls to the special man, where, together with the king, taking sustenance for this holy work in flagons of mead, both would share this pious duty.
As the village grew, gods support saw it blossom to a town. The king and other business men whose practice confused the more simple of mind, sought his unique stamp of godly support. The details, placed out of context could appear exploitative but, by investment in his church his official sanctification absolved the men, clearing the issues for those who had misunderstood.
So many were the beings needs these days, even the special man tired. One Sunday, he asked his flock to show gracious thanks by initiating their first boys, as gifts to his service. Such an accolade marked the purity of a family. These boys would work with the special man, tending his needs, helping him in his essential work without which all would be at risk.
Witnessing the poorer people, those whose pitiful offerings met a sadness in his eyes, both aware there was little he could do. There weren't all that many seats at gods table. He would comfort them. The meek would inherit the earth. Buried in soil, indeed they would rot away. Those who gave more generously would leave them to the earth, rotting as they ascended in to heaven.
The boys handed over to the special man, could help support the poors case. The special man would argue for them with the divine, explain their financial situation, putting in a good word for them. But he couldn't promise anything. Few stood much chance of entering his kingdom. Gods love saw his chosen rise in life. Money was the mark of having had divine support. Poverty, despite their familiar cries of denial, spoke more eloquently than words. God quite clearly did not like them. He was all seeing, rewarding his devout. Still, the good church he built had an open mind. If they had no money, the special man could find use for their boys, even the younger wives were an acceptable offering. His choir grew. The fornication of the poor had grown problematic. Sinful, animal breeding. The animal underclass were an embarrassment. In communion with the higher being, he'd asked for clarity. Men had souls. Women did not, like animals, mans to use, though, best not let them know.
Having amassed a choir of many young boys, he found he was ready to lead by example. Stood before his people he took a vow of celibacy. Thus he was able to stand on high ground, purity intact. Purifying the girls no longer. The pious, who could show their depth of faith by significant contribution, were sanctified. Authorised to perform the holy act. Those most holy gave most money through which the special man gave the authority to purify. His choir sang in angelic voice, but temptation rose within his heart. Seeking divine councel, his mind was put to rest. The being had a rival. Not as powerful, in fact, should he desire, his higher being could squash this rival. But, in the kindness of his gift of consciousness man now must choose to love him. The dark rival would place temptations, hither and yon. A veritable minefield to negotiate. Being special did not render him free of dark temptation, but, smiling at his favourite the higher being promised if evil entered the boys, if they became his rivals agents, the special mans work had amounted such vast deposits, any trifling matter of being tempted would be counterbalanced. Indeed, even if he let each and every boy use his evil to try sully his purity, he would be forgiven. Such was the special mans relief he set about his campaign of ritual purification with an enthusiasm beyond all his holy work before his vow. The boys temptation found him duty bound to purify. His phallus, because of his celibacy, was now free to cleanse all of his boys. The devil rendered their bottoms a tempting fruit, and in kindness the special man would, through the holy phallus, purify his choir. In holy buggery the special man showed his deep piety. On occasion, as the Holy Spirit took him over, some boys were broken. But never once did he fail to bless the child's soul as it slipped aloft. His heart could not but pity them, for sinners they surely were.
By now, any thought of living without the special mans unique access to the higher being, was terrifying. All now knew, without his love and protection, they would be open to immense varieties of danger. Not only famine, disease, poisoned water and storms were held at bay by the special man, but far worse. The higher being had educated his special man of concerns so deep there implications stretched in to time without end. For centuries before the higher being chose the man to speak to the people, the shamans had been hiding the truth. The higher being had explained to him why he knew of how special he was, even before his revelations. The tribe were no animals. Far from it. Most of the old beliefs had long ago left this place. The shamans recognised The disease early on. It's pattern inevitable, it could play out its destiny, without them. To remote isolated clusters they ran. Preserving the knowledge. In safe storage for when the curse had destroyed itself, in hope enough was left to rebuild from. The few of shaman beliefs who had stayed, stood on that Sunday morning, as the common people learned that they too were special, not like the special man. But more special than animals. The special man told them all how they shamans had fooled them. Those of shamanic knowledge felt the special gaze fall upon them. He smiled and looked at the rage of his people, angry at such long term trickery and its effect. And to those who he knew would soon be killed he asked, "forgive them, now they know what to do," his love did not stretch to the beasts.
The special man was very nearly a God. Deep down he'd always felt he was special. The confusion was lifted and he now saw what had confounded his mind, all slipped into place. Just as his mother had told him, breast feeding him into puberty whilst mothers of lesser boys, rejected their suckling at only three. She had told him just how special a boy he was. He'd long forgotten that he had invented the higher being. His freinds had been cruel, blind to his special attributes. After he told them all about the being, how it had seen how special he was. The attention delivered all he had wanted. This was all now forgotten. With everyone now of devout faith, there was no doubt. The reality they all lived coalesced, any anomaly dissolved by the acid of the communal mind. The higher being, the one true God, had chosen him through divine wisdom as his agent. His divinity manifest in human form, the true prophet. His piety so deep, all would concur, free of personal vice, a man so holy he had now suppressed all ego, all self, giving his flesh over to God. He could not fix a point when the being spoke to him, and he spoke to the people. A translator. To now. A man of God. The Holy Spirit had entered, animated his body, the words from his mouth, were no longer of man. When his lips now moved, it was God speaking. His deification saw him walk in majestic movement. The Kings burly group, ready to smash any sinner who caused him offence.
His people, though shadows of his special glory, listened to these revelations. Through worship, money and submission, their earthly pain was to be endured. Through rejection of physical pleasure, worship and cash. Their faith would be tested by gods abscence. By belief despite evidence, through war, famine, strife, heaven was guaranteed. If mystical visions distracted the weak, they were to be dismissed as madness, the Devils temptation. Only the one true invisible God could secure safe passage.
The others, through his work could now be told the hidden truth. All would survive death. The shamanic conspiracy restraining man from his destiny had enslaved all of them. Fooling all in to thinking they were animals. That this earth was a whole system, man a mere aspect. The new God freed man from all this. Earth was just a backdrop, animals without soul, man was gods love. As this revelation spread, man became free. Liberated from the lies of animal limits, life became just a stage, souls the true unit, spirit beings. The environment no longer a sustenance and host, to be loved as each other, could now be stripped back, farmed so we could breed more. Man stepped free.
The king and his clan, with divine permission, now cleared the wild lands. The special man recalled how things once were. The hunters would thank the animals spirit for giving them its life. Never killing more than sufficient. How this must have angered his God. Idolatry, this beast worship. The wild was tamed, mans civilised world. The people many. The beasts killed and driven away.
But he had grown an old man, special yet tired. The people knew the higher being was reaching down to gather up his child to heaven. How they sang and cheered, grateful his good work was to be rewarded. He lay on his deathbed. People looked on. His mind flickered, now, readying him for ascension. A niggleing memory, tickled away. A small fib, told when he was young. What had it been? He could not bring it to mind. Looking out at his people, all who had grown so much. Pride brought tears. And stood there, quietly watching. Not singing like the rest. This man he knew. The shaman. His boyhood friend. Why had he come? The white light would come soon. He'd been promised this. But, it felt odd. It was like night time. Much more so. A nothingness. No god calling him forth, just dark, empty............

The entrance to the hill fort was far more clear than the time softened shapes of most. Walking through, up and onto the hills top, the core of the village, both Lipton and Peter felt a warmth. The land seemed to recognise them. As though their arrival was awaited with love. And, in reflection both felt affinity to this land. The magnitude of the engineering, built my hand, stick and horn, was utterly humbling. At this height, over many years, many generations, a people of a common mind, most would be aware it's completion would be long after the children of their children had died. The earth moving and shaping into the series of defensive ridges, that alone must represent decades of labour. Their imagination had to recreate the wooden fences, the pikes and timber gates, all long decayed. From all sides the view was open. To the south was Hereford, Ludlow. North, craven arms, church Stretton. East, prime farm land, then on to leintwardine, clungunford. West was Wales. Darker hills. Tougher farming.
Peter: "Whoever built this knew that dark times were ahead. The mindset must have been looking far into some inevitable future. No one would build something so consumptive of time on mere worry. They must have been certain. Their people were at threat. It wasn't the builders lives at risk but their future, multiple generations ahead. Nobody thinks like that now. No one begins a work they know they won't see finished."
Lipton: "It's a striking feature of all the ancient works. Stonehenge took many thousand years. Generations must have come and gone, talking it through, planning possibilities. A millennium of combined thought before any work began. Imagine, from the death of Christ, till today, in the same number of years, Stonehenge wasn't halfway to completion."
Peter: "Steadies the mind, eh? What keeps repeating to me is how different those people saw themselves. They can't have felt seperated as we do. They were singular men of one mind. The scope was collective. Each person an aspect of a far greater whole. To spend lives in hard labour, many born, living and dying, offering their entire life's energy for a project, a goal that the vast majority would never reap any personal benefit. The project of western civilisation, in its many details, has led to a reverence for the individual. It's conclusion leaving us all seperated, on personal journeys. All now confused, disillusioned, alone. Through reason and science, we thought we would become enlightened as to the true nature of our existence. The result was the complete opposite. The universe became not our special place, but a vastness beyond the human minds ability to imagine. Earth. A lost dot in impartial infinity. Physical laws, directional forces with purpose have now been revealed as random, impartial. As our measuring developed a shifting reality, drifting into temporary patterns existent in that one place under those conditions, before turbulent drift saw the patterns slide. Time and space, of substance we can't grasp never mind see. Trapped in a subjective point, equipped with sensory limitations, sense data the brain deciphers creating a picture, a reality existent only in our minds, nothing close to what we know is there. No hope of ever knowing a single truth. That is the conclusion. And to cap it all, we've caused such damage to our planet. Initiated an extinction of so many species. And we may still die along with the animals who died as collateral cost for the project."
On reflection, the Clun coven had a point. But if they strike out again, like in 1200, summoning up serpents, demonic eels that ate out babies brains. Further still, when fully grown ate a vicious tube linking the vagina and mouth of aristocratic ladies. The authorities would destroy all they had worked towards.
Lipton: "We have to check them out. If this suicide epidemic is the preparations of some dark act, we must reason with them. Find a way to keep everyone of the old belief onside."
The dogs were ahead of them. In a hollow, layed in a heap. They'd sleep here.
Dropping the rucksacks from their shoulders, the two men, archangels of Jesse, shamans of natures selection looked around. This hollow had been the bed of many over the years. The land formed to a protective pocket, hidden from the winds. It felt as though their prescence here had been expected, the inevitable conclusion in a complex pattern of time and molecular physics. It felt right. Both looked to the sky, together something had drawn their eyes. Three Eagles, high up, circled. Their majesty of sublime quality. Both men were knowledgable on wildlife. Lipton a hunter and man of the wilderness. Peter had been raised by a naturalist father, evolutions wonders were his earliest memories. These were golden eagles. A pair had nested in a secret Cumbrian location in recent years, otherwise only seen in remote Scottish highlands. Spotting an isolated eagle in the Welsh borders would be an extremely unusual and remote possibility. Three, without question, a vision. Peruvian shamans see Eagles as spiritual entities, of mystical qualities. Messengers able to fly between dimensions. Seeing an eagle under any circumstances has significance. Entranced, the two visionaries entered into mystical reverence. Understanding beyond any linguistic reduction flooded them both. This revelation gathered the confusion of all pieces they'd accumulated since their recent meeting. Liptons suicide attempt, Peters spiritual disturbance, the urges and impulses, the instinctual pattern of their journey, the multitude of sensory warnings, the spirit messages from benevolent allies from other dimensions, all coalesced into a whole. A jigsaw of the unconscious. A planetary alignment. So many inexplicable fears had plagued them. Without any spiritual framework both assumed the psychiatrists were right. Psychosis, paranoia, smothered in desperation by heroin and alcohol. So many of their brothers who began their shamanic journey had died. Others institutionalised, zombified with anti psychotics. Their minds the receiver of countless voices. Messengers from multiple dimensions, unable to materialise but reaching out in desperation to any remaining aspects of their dying breed. Shamanic perception, once as common as smell or sight, had been driven out as civilisation developed. Communal consciousness that the native Britains shared, a species group mind, that had driven them to build this hill fort. Stonehenge, evidence of how this unity of spirit brought all into a singular purpose. A collective being. Every person aspects of the one. First step through divine selection man left other animals behind, second step vanity in human intelligence rendered the infinite knowable, third step individuals chose themselves over the species. The countless sensations, voices, irrational fears, visions and impulsions, in twentieth century Britain, materialist reality, stripped of spiritual dimension, saw Peter, Lipton, others still able to sense none material entities that shared the world, with no where to turn. No shamans or spiritual guides to help. Only psychiatrists. Abandoning belief in a spiritual dimension had left all phenomena of material cause. Both had been diagnosed schizoid, manic, other delusional conditions of neurological imbalance. This moment, beneath the circling Eagles, the completion of their shamanisation marked by the hard fought gnosis. The warmth of illumination filled both, a golden spherical glow surrounded them, the dome above connecting to the skies, the dome beneath them connection to the earth.

After the sun sank and day became dusk, the two men and three dogs, in the sanctuary of the hill fort, watched the dancing ghosts, flames flickering from the fire. The day had brought closure on dark years of confusion. Passengers in a delusional society, a bus driven by a blindfolded drunk, foot to the floor. Terrified as they sped towards death, the passengers around read papers, chatted on phones, or slept oblivious to the situation. Trying to make sense of it all by reason alone was an arrogant misunderstanding of human potential. Neither spoke, no words could express, no words needed, as all now was clear. Western civilisation was growing at an impossible speed. Environmental changes to feed the growth. Technologies developing in blind expansion, their long term effects unknown, spurting from pandoras box. Systems of biodiversity of complex interdependence, cleared away before their purpose was understood. The rain forests, the planets lungs, cut away. Polar ice caps, cooling systems melting, temperature rising without restraint. Too late to stop now, change was underway. The warnings from dimensions man now denied. Voices screaming from beings whose existence was deemed a superstition. The planetary organism in realignment. The dinosaurs fossil record stops at a single point. The mass extinction from what man never learned, had ended their reign. The earth retracting growth in frozen self preservation. The dessert of ice, an age of clearance before the next growth spurt, humanity the conclusion. The biodiversity, the harmonic balance that allowed us to flourish, interdependent systems of interwoven necessity. By the year 2000, anyone open to their sensory perception, anyone listening could hear the changes underway. Peter and Lipton, joined by a shared view, shouted out to the reality around. And it had replied. Their panic, tingling senses that alerted their minds, their instinctual awareness of mans period of planetary custodianship was in its final days. All the essences, beings, spirits and other entities modern man could no longer see, hear, smell or taste, in chaos and despair, screaming and nudgeing, appealing to the blind and dumb species. Now all was clear. Both men had blocked it all out, as mental health experts diagnosed their madness, alcohol and heroin, taking more as the volume increased. This spiritual repression had destroyed the others leaving just two. They'd navigated the storms that took their freinds, till the controls were ripped away, the weather taking them where it chose. Free from volition, driftwood abandoned to the waves. This conclusion to their realisation delivered awe and wonder, the scape of the new reality they had worked hard at, opening their minds, allowing anything through, now accepted through conceptual frameworks devised from many years of discipline. The truths brought the reassurance, the confirmation of their beliefs, defiantly preserved through many battles. To finally know they'd been right all along, brought inner peace.
Peter had an angle that allowed their gnosis. Knowledge of academia was not truth, information passed from person to person. From a position outside a system, through study, observation, experimentation, discussion with fellow students, man gathered information and theoretical hypotheses. History was creations of imagination, frameworks that positioned remains, fragments in to patterns of aesthetic sense. Always a guess. New discoveries, usually could be squeezed into open spaces. Till a chunk would be unearthed that had no gap it could be squashed into. New historians reshuffled the pieces again, forming a new pattern, the chunk now included. And science was even worse. A history of theoretical frameworks, mental constructions able to contain the data available. These metaphorical structures, existing only in minds, were much the same. New data would be squeezed in, anomalies rejected, thrown aside. In time this pile of uncomfortable rejected parts would grow too big to hide. A leap to a new paradigm, another structure of the mind, able to contain all the data. Standing for a perfect moment, then new data again would gather, the cyclic process an eternal series of falsifiable hypothetical conjectures, all suggestions of the reality we were forever separate from, further still, unable to see, smell, hear, taste nor touch. This final realisation of scientific limits, meant the religious superstitions so scorned by early scientific hope, we're just other paradigms, other mental structures with no more confirmation than any other.
But what Peter brought was his trade. As a wood craftsman he knew knowledge had two types. The objectivity of science, looking upon a system, positioned outside, measuring in cold cognition. Knowledge stored in the mind. Reducible to language or numbers. Things either known or not. He had suspicions it could be imaginary. Dancing as watched from the disco wall. 'Knowing that' had a sister called 'knowing how.' Know how was tacit knowledge. Somatic knowledge. Physical knowledge, in the body, not reducible to language or numeric formula. Knowledge only knowable from within. Subjective, participatory, expressed through the body. Dancing. Craft skills, tacit knowledge, know how, a knowledge without end. The knowledge of the musician, dancer, painter, warrior, craftsman. Through practice it could develop. The religion as he was taught at school was like history, facts, names, stored in the mind. Shamanic knowledge came from experience and practice. Know how. A skill. Western man had elevated objective study, the academic knowledge, being of the mind more valuable than tacit knowledge. The poor worked with the body, service to the higher classes whose knowledge of mind was superior. Physicality, touch, interaction with material reality, the working class trades, their physical nature connected to animals. Tacit knowledge is the knowledge of animals, the swallow and swift in flight is a beauty to behold. The wing and body of masterful subtle shiftings, responsive directly and without thought or reason to the infinite diversity of air pressures, currents, a dimension of constant animation, turbulence of air is in constant change, the bird hasn't time to consider then act, it must become a responsive reflection. Craft skill has to be learned through practice. Mans journey from animal origin, into consciousness, the higher importance of the spirit, the mind, our distinction from animals of no spirit or mind, only body. Thus, work of the body marked a persons lower status, the higher classes displayed their superiority by distancing themselves from physical interactions with material reality. The muscle atrophied, skin softened, reminders of any animal nature hidden from the self and others. Becoming seperated from the material world meant distance was desire able. Religions had origins of mystical experiences, epiphany delivering gnosis. These instances of divine intervention were jealously claimed. Churches with hierarchical preisthoods, authorised monopolistic singular access to the divine by their ancestral or familial connection to these epiphanies. Having sole authorisation, other mystical experiences were rigidly policed. Their unlicensed nature meant they were apostate States, delusions of insanity or demonic possession. The church preserved sole authority through murder, torture and imprisonment. Faith despite no mystical illumination suited the drift toward separation and objectivity. Religions of historical knowledge.
The atheism of Peters youth cleared through experience. Mystical States, experiences delivering gnosis. Not objective theory but participatory skill. The learning took years of practice. Sacramental entheogens brought visionary States. Allowed entry to different dimensions as real as his home. With time the body becomes attuned to reality around. Sensing its topographic diversity, the weather of spiritual change. Stripping away the barriers, the cultural indoctrinations, the unconscious denials, tribal prejudices, till, on the hill fort with Lipton, as Eagles circled to affirm his intuitions. Finally both became as responsive to the realities and dimensional diversity, the spiritual climate, as responsive as swifts in the wind, released from reason and the displacement it delivers. Animal again. Shamans. This condition of being hasn't been a choice. Men entered the priesthood, women entered nunnerys, an inner calling to become closer to God. Lipton and Peter had set out from home, kicked out at sixteen, to explore and seek out adventure. Did Gaia steer them or was the genetic make up, combined to early life experience, a fluke combination to set a path to the sacrament of the native pagan, the liberty cap mushroom. A powerful entheogen, its historic use stretching in to depths beyond measure. Generations could pass, shifting habits change, then as though the planet wished to speak, small groups would rediscover its use. An inbuilt system that kicked in times of planetary imbalance. A safety valve of spiritual injection. There are scientists who think that man is the first basic shoots of grow where the particles of matter that form the universe, have formed to a pattern that exhibits evidence of the universe becoming aware of itself. Lipton and Peters discovery of Liberty caps may or not have been a volitional act of the planets conscious intent, or an unconscious arrangement of particles that, be it them or others of like mind, combined to discovery of the entheogen, was a periodical flowering. Many dispute the concept of Gaia, the interdependence of biodiversity, seen as a single organism, all life seen as aspects of a greater, singular whole. But the knock on effects of damage to seemingly unrelated systems, points towards a harmonic and diverse organism. The temperature stabilising ice caps, the oxygenating, carbon dioxide digesting, rain forests, show protective or life support systems. Yet, inadvertent shamanification rendered them messengers or tools to help the planet. The project of western civilisation had brought about the global depletion, ushered in climate change, before anyone thought through the inherent problems of population growth. She was closing down. A period of less life. In time, earth would stabilise, new climates where new species would evolve. They both knew man could no more stop this than he was aware of the conclusion most likely in his delusional journey as spirit beings, above natural law. Lipton and Peter were never political types. Greens were nice but infantile. Free will was an illusion. Humans acted out predictable lives their genetic make up and cultural context decreed. However, both knew the Druidic project. Their bloodlines pitched forward in time, waiting out the Promethean projects conclusion, ready to return the craft to mankind, whatever traces remained. The deviant growth in the Clun line was a magnet, drawing them in. That much seemed likely. But what their role was neither had a clue. Today's awakening was a liberation from reason. Their animal natures restored, they would do what felt right. No plan. Yet a notion both felt, was what they were, how they had become, was a part of some natural planetary process of which they were no more understanding than a gene. Their emergence from the planetary life patterns would by the specific coalescence of forces and molecular arrangement, find them unable to do anything other than act out the role for which they had come in to being. They could not do anything but be the agent for which the earths bio complexity positioned them in the sequence of its cycle. Just as chemical messengers, neuro transmitters are triggered by dangers to the human system, an automatic communicative system to protect the greater whole. A God like overview was always beyond human understanding, not even an awareness of their relevance, was needed. They would perform their function.
And with this peace of mind, free of questioning the voices in their heads, now clear and certain. Any response they had would be right. They were not mad. Fire light formed a golden bubble of warmth and light, around the two men and three dogs. Here, hidden from everything but the stars. This was home. A sanctuary that was theirs. Together drifting into sleep. The depths of space above. The earth below, holding itself up to form this hill, like two hands cradling them before the heavens.

A crackle in the fire, some resin pocket bursting, a miniature blow torch, flipped Peter awake. The moons drift meant four hours had passed since he fell asleep. Dook, his husky cross was snoring, tight to his belly. Across the fire Lipton was awake.
Lipton: "Bar the obvious, what did you notice about yesterday?"
So much had happened he knew not what to pick.
Lipton: "Neither of us mentioned drugs once."
Then sleep reclaimed him.


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