“There is the path of joy, and there is the path of pleasure. Both attract the soul. Who follows the first comes to good; who follows pleasure reaches not the end. The two paths lie in front of [humanity]. Pondering on them, the wise [person] chooses the path of joy; the fool takes the path of pleasure.” Katha Upanishad It might seem silly, but I know for a fact that this golden path represents the choice presented to us in that Upanishad quote. It symbolises both the path of pleasure and the path of joy. I know this for a fact as I’ve walked both. During the first walking through a field of wheat, I chose the path of pleasure. So devoted to this path was I, that I even invented the Religion of Cake. Not only did I invent this religion, but I actually won a competition for Best New
This is PoppingJock, or rather, this was once PoppingJock before he got banished from his community and turned into a fence post. He’s got a lovely view over Abbot’s Cliff though; Jumpalina is to thank for that. PoppingJock was once a proud member of the Ancient Order of Kentish Karate who have protected the citizens of Kent since the time of earliest Doggerland. Like all members of the Order, PoppingJock was once a Warrior Tree who acted under the cover of nighttime to protect and serve the day creatures. During the day, Order members lived, and in fact still do live, under the hills of Kent. They’ve burrowed tunnels and great halls, which they reinforced with their dead. PoppingJock’s kin first came to Kent from the east via Doggerland in response to a call for help. Kentish day creatures were ruled over by two warring clans—the Blausters and the Rotters—who tyrannised
Here I learnt the story of the kingfisher. He has watched this stream rise and fall, empires of minnows with it. Here, at dawn, the deer come to drink and gossip and speak of where to find the most perfectly ripe buds. Here, the dragon and damselflies whizz and flit, landing hither and thither, dazzling all but the kingfisher with their glitter. Here, where it is always a degree or two warmer, silent people come and sit quietly with their breath, watching the play of light on water. The kingfisher remembers a time when there were thousands of his kin living along the full course of this stream. A time of bustling minnow empires, the occasional trout, and when the stream floor was covered in turquoise and emerald pebbles. This was the time before the miners came and left the stream with nothing but a golden, sandy blanket for a floor.
This is the lair of the rare Ducksect. The Ducksect first emerged as a distinct being in 347BCE and currently lives in Alice Holt Forest. It told me that it also has a cousin on its mother’s side in the New Forest, so I will have to venture there one of these days and try to solicit an interview. Ducksect said it’d happily put in a good word for a highly reputable publication such as mine. The Ducksect is a pirate and that’s why it flies its flagweb outside its lair. Its voyages on the sea started from a young age, and are, sadly, rooted in tragedy… You see, the Ducksect is the product of an unholy but loving union between a duck and a form of insect sadly extinct but which might be considered a form of beetle. Both beings were egg layers and madly in love and so felt
This is Rose, she is related to Deadloggosaurus, but is a much more modern descendant. She’s also considerably more benevolent than Deadloggosaurus, and is actually the gateway to the Land of Milk and Honey. You can find her on Holmbury Hill. The way to gain entrance is to present Rose with a jar of honey. If your offering is deemed acceptably delicious enough (tip: only present her with raw, organic, glyphosate-free honey), you will magically get pulled through to the other side. Don’t worry if you think you won’t fit through her gateway mouth, the magic will take care of that. You won’t get a scratch or a splinter, I swear. You should know that it’s only worth bothering to have this adventure if you are a dairy lover, as literally everything on the other side is made of it. Mountains of Stilton, sofas of brie, fountains of chocolate milk, etc., etc.