Night has fallen, the magic in the environment, the druids invoke the spirit of wheat to return to the fields, it is then that the great straw doll captures the spirit of abundance.

The great Celtic festival of the god Lugh begins, the time of the first harvests, between the summer solstice and the autumn equinox, time to gather food for the harsh winter.

Golden field, solar energy, goddess of grain, thank you for the gifts of the earth, its wheat, its oats and its barley.

October 12, Hispanic Day. They have asked us to launch something commemorative for the date and we have been thinking about how to approach the Conquest without being dragged by the Black Legend or by chauvinism or irrational nationalism, an exclusive jingoism in many cases. Nor did we want to go into details and nuances about the differences between civilizing empires versus predatory empires, or disquisitions about rights, cruelties and benefits.

This memory is perhaps more metaphysical and spiritual, an approach oriented to the epic, the deed, the courage, the patriotism and the identity of the peoples. Influence the epic of some brave men whose gods were born in Extremadura and who, dressed in swords, breastplate and morion, jumped into the sea seeking glory and fortune for their Empire, and who faced other mythical and honorable giants, strong and powerful warriors protected by their gods of War and the Sun, who worshiped the rain and the stars in their imposing temples and who fought fiercely while beating their drums carved in ahuehuete wood - Huehuetl is thought to have a mystical and ancestral sense , because its sound is related to the heart of the earth.

Thinking about the dimensions of that historic journey and that encounter, remembering those men on both sides of the pond is what we have intended with this design, a look at that world in which life hung by a thread, and in that being, courage, honor and spirit had a value that today we can hardly imagine.

If you have seen women running through the streets from one place to another being chased by some half naked guys in wolf skins who whipped and whipped them with bloody strips of ram, do not be alarmed! they are just remembering an old pagan festival, something lewd that yes, but it was a sacred rite of purification and fecundity celebrated in Ancient Rome every February 15 called the lupercales or Lupercalia.

The word comes from lupus, that is, wolf and its Roman god of fertility and male sexuality Fauno Luperco (Greek mythological deity Pan, the one who protected the wolf), a strange, hairy being, with legs and horns of a goat and large, pointed ears with a voracious and infinite sexual appetite.

One of the legends tells that in the ancient city of Alba Longa, the evil Amulio after deposing his brother Numitor from the throne, ordered to kill all his first-born, turning his daughter Rea Silvia into a virgin so that she would not have successors, but The god of war Mars was enraptured by the girl and they procreated the brothers Romulus and Remus, who managed to escape from the clutches of their uncle Amulio, managing to survive in the forests thanks to the woodpecker and the she-wolf Luperca who nursed and raised them. Years later they would return to their homeland to take revenge and kill him.

Due to the shortage of fertility and women in Rome, the oracle of the goddess Juno announced that the mothers of Lazio would be fertilized by a male goat. For this purpose, a ritual was held every February 15 in the Lupercal cave - there where Romulus and Remus were suckled by the she-wolf - where the most virile young men were selected - those ephebos who, on their initiation path, had lived in the forests as human wolves—, called loberos or luperci (friends of the wolf), and their faces were marked with the blood of a dog and a sacrificed male goat.

To make the rite more fun and interesting, virile members were created in the form of strips with the skin of the goat ... The libido to the surface, the lustful participants launched themselves in the carnal search for women eager to be impregnated, who agreed in a Shameless sexual play, whipping and spanking included, in a depurifying act that increased fertility.

Christianity erased with a stroke of the pen this fun bacchanal, so beneficial to health and to the women of Ancient Rome, moving it to February 14, Valentine's Day.

Naked, in front of oneself, next to the oak, the sun awaits us, it plays night vigil.

Let the log burn, let us burn the old,

and with its ashes we purify our soul,

their fertile sowing give us an abundance of heart and wisdom.

May the ancestors join us in the great banquet until dawn.

The life that sleeps under the earth will be reborn after darkness.

Yule.

The last Iberian was a human comet that crossed this world until it was lost in the Iditarot, that distant place of which the natives of Alaska spoke. Its splendor left us with a blast of light that, like the ancient shamans of the tribe, deeply connected us with the forgotten memory of the true meaning of life and its mystery, its cosmic meaning. An invitation to reconnect with that ancestral past in which we beat in harmony with Mother Earth, which desperately urged us to strengthen ties with nature as keys to living in the future, to embrace and save Gaia - who reacts when we mistreat her. , and not be carried away by the drift of modernity that tries to dominate it to maximize material growth.

He wanted to be a wolf to live in unpolluted lands. It was that lupus that was part of mythology - where Palaeolithic man, fully integrated into nature, merged with the wolf in a rite of passage - turned into a warrior to face aggression ... Our archetype was a A rebellious, indomitable, visionary, free and wild hero who did not allow himself to be tamed and who fought tirelessly for life, forests and threatened fauna. The spell of his word, his energy, his enthusiasm, his vitality, his strength, his message and his codes captivated and transformed with his light a lineage, that of the line of the free, that like cranes stretched by the lash of the winter know, if not to return, at least feel, perceive and look out to that lost paradise that you dreamed of, so that in the Iberian nights the beautiful howls of the wolf will not stop being heard.

[Text and Design inspired by Felix Rodríguez de la Fuente and the masterful Cuarto Milenio program: “Felix, the last hero” by Iker Jiménez]

American Indians: Great warriors, farmers and nomads. Sacred tribes with ancestral ties set among themselves throughout Alaska, Hawaii and the rest of EEUU, that formed the millenarian culture of the “red skins”. Native Americans like the Sioux, Arapajoes, Apache, Cheyenne or Cherokee and their famous leaders such as Geronimo, Crazy Horse, Sitting Bull that evoke the epic struggles of the Conquest of the Wild West.

The supreme product of Indian civilization was the warrior. His prototype contains a wealth of virtues that make him an admirable figure. And to be a good warrior as the Indians understood it, it was not enough to have extraordinary courage; He had to be, too, generous, detached, austere, noble: in short, a true gentleman, a true knight: a way of life and a "way of perfection”.

The irreverent and revolutionary Old skull, the spirit of fun. Skulls were used in the old traditions of satirical and ridiculous poems making social criticism and protest, dates 500 years ago. Also had been used in different plays like the ”Dance of Death” in the 14th century. People needed satire to help deal with the grim world (plagues and diseases) around them. But the symbol emerged in Mexico as a means of expression especially used with roguish and ironic tones against the nobles and powerful of the viceroy times. It is also used during the celebration of the day of the death.

Breath Souls. Breath of life. Last Breath... The old skulls, bones, stones and the earth whisper to us ancient amazing stories, but also too many forged with iron, blood and death....

There is a legend that says that in a place in the Pacific called Teaoturoa, lived a handsome warrior named Mataora who was captivated by the exotic and irresistible beauty of a woman from the underworld, daughter of Uetonga, descendant of the goddess of the night and the god of earthquakes and named Niwareka. He was so captivated that he asked her to marry him and she agreed to stay in his world. Things worked until one unfortunate day the brave Mataora went into a rage and violently mistreated the princess. Drowning in her sadness, she left her husband, returning to Rarohenga, to her old underground life. The clouds wept, the trees screamed, the rivers bled ... the warrior's supplications echoed in the depths of the earth. Sorry for his actions, he descended in search of his beloved to implore her forgiveness. Uetonga, who recognized him when he arrived, gave a great laugh because the hero's body paint had been erased along the way. Naked with shame, he exposed his pain in tears of regret, to which the merciful King forgave him by permanently tattooing him and showing him the art of Ta Moko. Reconciled, they returned from the afterlife, where they taught generation after generation this traditional Maori tattoo technique from New Zealand.

Are you scared? Face your dangers! The courage lies within you. Even if you are afraid, look fear in the face. Give yourself up, be genuine and brave, fight for what you love even if you take risks and sometimes you are misunderstood and do not please everyone. Let nothing frighten you and prevent you from facing your dream. Always play the game, you have a Lionheart.

Courage to face your fears and injustices, like that epic and adventurous medieval knight, descendant of the legendary King Arthur and friend of Robin Hood, the brave monarch Richard I who legend says faced abuse for justice and for his people in times of conspiracies, betrayals, ambitions and expediencies. God knows! In any case, courage!

"He was not the most honest or the most pious man, but he was a brave man" P. Reverte.

If you lived dangerously and your life was hanging by a thread, if you defied authority, defending your reason and rights with the proud point of your sword, if you sacrificed yourself and were generous and human, if you were fearless, reckless, arrogant, brave, adventurous, seductive, rogue, loyal, if you were capable of the most heroic but also the meanest actions, if you were guided by your code of honour, if you sought glory on the margins of society and the law, if you lost your innocence in the face of the harsh reality of mud and blood, and if, disenchanted, everyone abandoned you. .. then you were probably an Old Thirdsman, a tired hero in rusty armour, a forgotten anti-hero like a cursed Alatriste.

Enter the secret garden of the moons, a sacred place, full of hope, abundance and desire...a reunion with nature, the rebirth of life. Its immense mystery and radiance will light your way to the ends of the magical night...

Life is an adventure and we must not let it escape, do not you want to discover everything that this world offers you? Do not wait for the deathbed to look back and regret what you have not done all this time. Now is your opportunity, it is your moment, throw yourself on the horizon, take flight and cross borders, navigate to the beyond with the decision and courage of an eagle. Fortune favors the andes and daring, rest assured that the gods will reward you.

We are the horsemen who ride with beasts of pipes and steel based on black fuel, in this hostile land, the roads are nightmares, the cities are deserts and humanity feeds on men... the leaders cannot stop this avalanche, the storm from fear…

Driven by this confusion full of frustrated dreams, we unscrupulously take revenge on the burdens, we will annihilate with our sword, with hunger, with death and with the beasts...

The great earthquake dyes the sun black and the blood moon, the stars fall from the sky...

The great day has come... in the midst of this chaos hope will resurface...

Don't you want to ride like a horseman from the Apocalypse to hell itself carrying this iron cross? Discover new horizons and new worlds, cross the wild nature flying free to the ends of the Universe. Be bold, break barriers, the rules if necessary, help your people and do not forget that the trophy you carry is a symbol of loyalty, companionship, courage, rebellion and freedom.

We are the horsemen who ride with beasts of pipes and steel based on black fuel, in this hostile land, the roads are nightmares, the cities are deserts and humanity feeds on men... the leaders cannot stop this avalanche, the storm from fear…

Driven by this confusion full of frustrated dreams, we unscrupulously take revenge on the burdens, we will annihilate with our sword, with hunger, with death and with the beasts...

The great earthquake dyes the sun black and the blood moon, the stars fall from the sky...

The great day has come... in the midst of this chaos hope will resurface...

The magic night is yet to come. Our star king has reached its zenith to flood us with light, love, heat & energy.

Jump into the flames, let go of your fears, burn your ballasts and immerse yourself in the pure waters bathed in the full moon of June.

Remember Sirius, bright light from heaven that illuminates the Nile.

Celebrate the god Juno and the goddess Jupiter who celebrate their heavenly love in Ancient Rome.

Praise the goddess Lithia of the Wiccas who in love hopes to be fertilized.

Beware of the mystical, charming, and mischievous Celtic creatures that go out to tangle with humans.

Dance with the druid drums to the rhythm of dawn, at its peak the sun filters, flooding the ancient stones of the StoneHenge with magical light.

& adore forever the oracle of the spirit of nature !!

I am lying down, piled up with mine, it is summer, and it's time to finally enjoy the deserved rest. Beside me my companions with an immobile smile and a jaw set in permanent happiness. This time the women and children did not come, they stayed at home. The youngest who is with me is 50 bodies away, he has a sentence of 16. He came because he always wanted to travel the world and now, on his mobile phone from the waist up and down, he spends his days looking towards the sea through the small hole opened between the amasijos, the parapets and the stacked redoubts of those bastions turned into sandcastles, which together with contorted meat, brains and eyes out of their basins with the sun form a unique theme park. They say it was a bombardment. I do not remember. Now I just need to rest...