Overhead stars peek through the treetops, but to no avail on this moonless night. The path before the weary traveler winds deeply into the darkness, leaving one to question if they will reach the nearest town or village anytime soon. Suddenly, off to the side, the sound of a horn echos followed by the sound of hounds. It is the night of The Hunt, when Herne the huntsman and his pack run through the night. Who would be so foolish to stay upon the road to see such an event?

The hunt is a deeply touching myth, archetypal in nature we respond to it in our unconscious and conscious states. One of the forms Herne takes is the form of a man with the head of a horned stag, and is known by many names; The Lord of the Forest, The Lord of the Hunt, The Horned God, Consort to the Goddess and Green Man to name a few(although the last I question as to really referring to Herne and the hunt, and have not heard this name used very often pertaining to this instance). It is said if one is unlucky enough to be out when Herne rides with his pack, if overtaken the traveler will vanish without a trace or be found dead the next morning.

To our inner world, Herne is a very important aspect of our living. The hunt itself was a sacred act, long ago before night vision gun sights, spot lights, hunting by airplane and high powered rifles turned it into a field of conquest and rape, as opposed to a sacred communion and dependence. In many cultures, the hunt is also a return to the birth place(as with the Huchiol Indians). The ritual of the hunt was a rigorous one, involving fasting, purification and strict conditions in which to conduct itself including a code of honor. There was an unspoken acknowledge- ment there was a good chance one might not return, that one might become the hunted as opposed to the hunter. At the conclusion of the hunt, the whole community took part as did they at the beginning.

The inner journey is very much like the secluded path first mentioned. For us, Herne represents that part of our life which relentlessly pursues us. We are both Herne and the hunted. Our unconscious mind holds a vast landscape in which we find grottos of insights, paths of enlight-enment and forests of despair. Since Herne is a shadow Archetype, he is very powerful for inevitably that is where the human race finds the most powerful potential to grow. Herne is not only shadow, he resides in both worlds, that of man and of totems and takes on the persona's of both. He is that twilight place in us, where the spiritual and mundane worlds meet. The gates of the Sidhe, where our world and the spiritual world blend. These are the great points of power, where water meets land, dusk and dawn, mid-points of season and year. Where the flesh also becomes divine.

Within the deep wells of our knowledge and being, there resides The Wild Hunt, to drive us before it so we do not linger long in the perilous places in our lives. If we linger too long, we are overtaken and become the captive of our shadow whom we can not fight, only embrace. Again we are in the place of magik, deep paradox for the things we would cast out from us are often the best parts. It is also an event which all of us will experience at least once in our lives. Each one of us, if it has not happened already, will be overtaken by the hunt. It is relentless and once the scent of prey is caught, it can not be shaken. We may elude the hunt, for a time, but eventually we will come face to face with the pack and Herne.

Here, unlike the legends, is a great and wonderful event which is so awesome, it can be sublime. While death is present, for one can not encounter the pack and be left unchanged, we find a new vitality. We hear the wind around our ears, and feel it against our face. The heart pounds and blood races and when Herne sounds the horn our souls leap within us. Both a precarious and beautiful spot to be in and very likely to be overwhelming. Yet, we are drawn to the hunt, even if it be to mimic it or try and change it.

We also are allowed to share in the pack, at these times, and have the opportunity to see where we are from a different perspective. The chase may have taken us to the edge of a cliff, but the pursuit may have been to stop us from heading in that direction. In our attempt to distance ourselves from such a wild and unpredict-able race we may inadvertently do ourselves un- reversible harm. The pack may intend to guide you to a safe haven, instead of overtaking you. At our heart, we fear the huntsman for he is out of our control. His will is his own, and the pack only harkens to him. The pack are skilled trackers, wild and subtle in their ways but also with a deep wisdom. They challenge the very fabric of our being, for the pack is to be found everywhere...from the deepest glen to the crowded city street.

How do we live with such an aspect to ourselves? It is a question some spiritual traditions have tried to stamp out, make us feel guilty about and reduced it to superstition. Psychologicly(for Jung) we must acknowledge our shadows, turning them from a garden of thorns into bushes of roses. We must delve into them, find their heart as many fairy tales tell us to do with giants or ogres who have locked them away from the com-munity. The hidden places in ourselves are to be sought out and utilized for the purpose of transforming our lives into something better. Left unsought, they will grow rank, choking us and festering and poisoning the landscape of our psyche. Easier said then done, but nevertheless it is something which must be done. We can run from the hunt/pack, but sooner or later it will overtake us.

Our ancestors knew this so well, it became instinct to them. The Hunt, at one point, may have been a folktale to account for people who stayed out too long after dark, upon a desolate road. But the archetype was already there, and such folktales are simply reflections of a deeper wisdom. Our distant relatives shared a kinship with Herne the Hunter, for they too pursued their prey but with the knowledge such roles were shared, either in the hunt itself or the ritual where the mask of the divine was worn by the celebrants.

Listen to the sounds deep within you, and when you hear the hunting horns waft across the countryside of your psyche, know at this point tremendous power will sweep through your life. It is a call for celebration and transformation, when our blood runs as hound or rabbit. When our very nature is bringing us gifts to honor us.