Diary of The Journal Keeper

Entry Number Nine

Dear Friend,

First, may I extend to you the happiest of New Years wishes! I am finally home, and finally getting settled enough to put down my thoughts for you. As I enter into the New Year of 2005, I feel energized, with a new sense of purpose for myself. I feel much less doubt and am more driven then ever to engage in this mysterious journey, into a realm I cannot see, but finally do sense…

(I warn you, this will be a rather long entry, so bear with me!)

Reading where I had last left off, I think it was clear that I doubted my role as the “Journal Keeper.” I had always wondered if that night (now almost three years ago) when I found the chest in the stump of that tree and the discovery of the old Journal inside, I asked myself over and over - was it fate or coincidence? I had hoped that it was my inability to communicate with this other realm to be the real reason I’d had no interactions. (My fear of course being that no one was trying to reach me because the Journal was never meant for me to find) Interestingly, over the past few months, the more I looked into my fear, the more I realized it was that very energy, that fear that was denying me access into these unexplored areas of myself. Looking back at the words of the Journal Keeper of 1829, I could see that his fear of this unknown nemesis began to eat away at his focus, specifically to his responsibilities as the Journal Keeper. Was this happening to me as well? Was the fear of that unknown so powerful that I was losing my conviction to fulfill my role? The role I believed I was to play was to reveal the existence of the Journal, the photographs and share the truth of their existence. I felt as if it all was slipping away from me like quicksilver.

My doubts shifted greatly over the time I spent on the road. Motivated originally to try to touch some inner resource that I could not tap into in my normal environment but also recognizing that this “dark force” was still very present, (a feeling as if I was constantly being watched) I found myself needing an escape. I also needed to know if this should be the end of this journey for me…

So, I started out alone. It was not until I reached the faerie believers gathering on the blue moon in August that I realized how isolated over these past few years I had made myself and how paranoid I had become. Interestingly, before I was about to leave, I noticed one of the images I had printed off from the original 48 glass plate negatives, began to shift from black & white to color. (Again, I really do not understand what makes the faeries appear in the pictures. I know moonlight had affected the first 12 images but the rest of the images appeared to make no changes. Then a few months later a 13th faerie appeared on the image called “Faerica”, then a 14th called “Zaira” - exactly why I don’t know either.) This particular image that seemed to be changing was of a tree in a thick forest with shafts of light coming through the branches. It was one of my favorites because of my own obsession with photographing old trees. The shafts of light in the image had begun taking on a golden hue. The glass plate read “Anam Cara”. I could not read who Anam Cara was in the old Journal because that page had stuck to the next one and I did not want to pull it apart for fear of damaging it. So I wrote “Anam Cara” on the back of the print. For obvious reasons, I had decided not to bring the old journal on my trip (safely hidden away) but I did take this “evolving” picture along and hid it among my own tree photographs. I had thought to bring my photography with me in hopes of being able to sell them (and fit in) at these fairs and they were easy to travel with.

The Gathering…
After the quiet and solitude of 2 weeks walking along winding rivers & mossy forests on my own, the gathering was a welcome change. The energy was almost theatrical as costumed nymphs, gnomes & faeries swarmed the deep woods. Many knew one another and seemed to travel the circuit from fair to fair beginning in the spring into the late Fall - selling what ever they could to support their vagabond lifestyles. It was a carefree, fun atmosphere and after a short adjustment period, I understood how one could easily gravitate towards it. It seemed a mix of people from those who were looking for an excuse to run through the woods in horns and furry trousers to others seen high up on the hillsides, meditating, chanting and drumming. I worried that I wouldn’t fit in, like some sort of “non-seer alarm” might go off…thank goodness - it didn’t. I spread my photos out across a blanket and used them as a vehicle to converse with people. I met many entertaining characters there (but what I was really hoping for was a real connection). A makeshift stage was created and there was a continuous flow of musicians and entertainers, some of which were so creative I found myself drawn in. One elfish fellow who called himself “Skelly the Storyteller,” (dressed in green, pointed ears, turned up shoes) read from a beautiful golden fairytale book while effortlessly balancing on a gigantic rubber ball. I was entranced by his story and when he would quickly show the audience the pages from the book they seemed to almost come alive! When anyone would try to come closer to look, he would slap the book shut with a brass padlock! (This brought on a big laugh.) He drew a big crowd and I’m sure he did quite well judging by the amount of money passed around in the hat.

I glanced back at my blanket and saw a silver haired man kneeling down looking through my pictures. When he saw me approaching he stood up…a huge man who seemed close to 7 feet tall. He had long beautiful snow white hair to his waist and a charming face with white beard and mustache and brilliant blue eyes. He wore a leather crown around his head which matched his leather tunic. He immediately drummed up visions in my mind of what great kings past would have looked like. He introduced himself as Gawen McMurdoch and we talked a long time about photography, of which he was quite knowledgeable. Lost in conversation, I had forgotten about the old image I had hidden in my satchel, he picked it up and saw the words “Anam Cara” which I had written on the backside. He asked why I had named it “Anam Cara?” Taken off guard I said I hadn’t named it and really didn’t know what it meant. He smiled and told me it was a very old Celtic term meaning “soul friend.” He said soul friends are “connected in the most ancient of ways and cut to your deepest thoughts. There is no hesitation to open yourself up, for no judgment will ever be passed.” (I’m writing this from memory, so forgive my paraphrasing) “You are gifts to each other to assist one another through difficult periods of your lives, a real connection to your soul’s ancient past.” I wanted to ask him how he knew of what he spoke, but he quickly put his large hand on my shoulder and said goodbye and that he would keep an eye out for me. I asked if he traveled the fair circuit, and he said I could probably find him in any forest if I looked hard enough. And somehow I believe I probably could! He seemed to be a part of the old woods himself…

As the blue moon rose, the music got louder as people danced by the rays of light, splintered through the old trees. It really did feel like magic. It was a simple sort of magic, but I could really feel it. I gathered up my blanket and photos and walked back to the spot where earlier I had set up a small tent. I had crossed by way of rocks across a river, which were much harder to see in the night then they had been in the day, even with the blue moon as my guide.

Needless to say, I fell in the water before getting all of the way across. The cold water shocked me into a sort of disbelief- as I stood in place, unable to move. The water was probably shallow enough to stand up in, but the surprisingly strong current bowled me over. It took all my strength to keep the blanket, which wrapped up my pictures inside it, above water. As I struggled to find a foot in the muck, a strong hand gripped me by the wrist and lifted me ashore in one swift movement. At the time, all I could see was long bluish-silvery hair, illuminated by the moonlight.

As you might have guessed, it was my new friend Gawen. He obviously had been looking out for me sooner then I’d thought.

Unable to speak, I motioned toward my dark tent. He laughed and guided me into deeper wood, where he had his camp set up, and a roaring fire. I dropped down onto the grass, kneeling in front of the fire’s warmth. After a moment to regain my senses, I carefully spread out the blanket, inspecting my photos, including “Anam Cara.” They survived.

“You don’t want to lose that one, eh?” he smiled as he looked down on the print.

I could barely respond. I just shook my head. Normally, I’d have been embarrassed, being rescued by this man, but I wasn’t embarrassed. Not in the least. I felt absolutely safe.

“No. You can tell that one’s special, isn’t it?” Gawen smiled again, while throwing a large, dry log onto the already roaring fire. “More important then you’d think, I’d say. Taking your current situation in mind, I’d like to offer you an invitation. If you’d like, you’d be welcome to travel with me. It appears you and I have the same mode of transportation…” he grinned and looked down at two large, bare feet. “Anyway, you look like you might benefit from my experience…and you might stay a little drier, too.”

I smiled, wondering if this man knew more about my situation than he was saying. I gladly accepted his offer. Somehow, I realized that I’d just gotten back on the path I was supposed to be on, the path that proved I was the right person to have found the journal and that strange chest full of magical things.

That night I covered myself with my own blanket, beneath the blue moon, and the warmth of his fire. It wasn’t until the morning that I realized that the small diary I’d been writing in for the past several weeks had floated down river- That was the diary I’d planned on transferring to this journal. Oh well. The good news is, the important stuff seemed to be just beginning!

So as I took up with Gawen, hoofing the “fairy roads” as he called them, that we began our journey- and I really began to see the magic I’d been missing.
More coming soon!!!

JK