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Our Story

FATHER ERIC'S GREAT BECOMING

In 1711, at the age of only 10, the son of a thatcher was fed Jimson Weed by his peers in a prank that would lead to the salvation of His earth. This is the story of Grandfather Eric Carter.

The evening fell darkly upon Eric, and as surely as the clock would tick, he spiraled further into the (now coined) State Of Oneness.
In this state of Holy Knowing and Unknowing, he felt moved to participate in his family's great ‘Welcoming Of Jesus’; a sacred tradition performed at dawn on the first yearly coming of spring. The Carter children, led by their father, would dig a crucifix-shaped hole in the ground while Eric, the youngest boy of 9, would hunt a rabbit to put in the hole as a vessel for Jesus' arrival. The Carter's believed this allowed room for Jesus to bless their soil.

Completing this ritual covered in the sweat of 18 hours digging, and only in the company of His Moon, the most grand and intricate of crucifixes had been crafted in the soil. Flowers wove sacred geometric patterns on the exterior, and stones that lined the walls were most fit for His Coming. It was time to welcome Him.
Though, In a moment of liminal possession (and against the strict rules of tradition),as though pushed by the Spirit, Eric moved into the hole and lay there. And as God would have it, a rabbit fell into the hole and began gnawing at his left ear; though he did not mind, for he felt His Spirit come into his body.

Three days later, dirty and starving, he emerged from the hole with yellowed, bloodied skin and sang of his experience to his peers. When quizzed on his experience he could only recall that he was greeted with new colours, and heard a triangulated symphony of whispers, the roosters crow, and the snakes hiss. He delivered that there were other soils, other blossoms, both a hair apart in difference, and of a whole other world, and that they are here with us but we cannot touch nor live them; He decides when we touch our loved one, if they are exactly who we remember, if their atoms align in the same likeness. And it is He who keeps this order, but those who have been touched by His Hand could see and enter these other places. His song met no harmony from his fellowship.

In the coming years, 19 year old Eric would grow distrustful of his home and compatriots, demanding that they were not who they had been before the eve of his Great Contemplation. He continued that his brother's hair had suddenly become thicker, that the kitchen walls were the wrong shade of yellow, that the birch tree that cast shadows over the porch was 2 feet too small, and that the scar on his mother’s temple had switched sides. His family, afraid of his speeches, felt it was not Jesus that had taken his ear, but an unknown tree with its roots in bloodied soil. At 21 he was exiled from their pasture.
Eric, alone and obsessed with the spirit of what had possessed him in the hole, chased it to meet it again so he could return to his true home. Thus he lived very few moments of sobriety between 1712 and 1772. In his final years, with his skin the colour of a dandelion and his family long passed, Eric had become immobile and incoherent, he had never truly made it home.

"Versions of Eric"

On his final day, his wife Lucia, almost 14, lifted 81 year old Eric from his soiled wooden bed, laid him amongst the musk thistle and guided him to release his seed into 10 rabbits.
In the hour of his death, Lucia lay Eric in a triangular hole in the earth, and released upon him 30 rabbits, most especially those blessed with seed. Eric, with expressionless eyes but a smile of childlike grace, repeated unto himself: "Tall men march in their spirals and grow smaller. They shall never meet themselves, though they know themselves most well. Brother and Friend are exactly alike, you and He are the same moon! This is the nature of the Tetractys". He continued this mantra as rabbits burrowed in his chest.
Believing Eric's spirit moved through his body and into the rabbits. Lucia watched in awe as Eric bred with and feed upon himself, and after 90 days, when the hole bore enough rabbits for them to roam free at ground level, she released half into the woods, knowing they’d be hunted for game, and kept the other half to breed for "medicine of the soul."

The first born rabbit of His Seed

This was our founding fathers "great becoming". Centuries later, Eric lives through our farming quarters in the rabbits, alive and unalive, and the soil they’re buried in. Eric has blessed Us with anti-thymocyte globulin, antisera, plague antiserum, skin grafts, Bovine Tuberculin, and now, the Reality Pill.

"The Great Relief" - Depiction of the first use of our Plague Antiserum, a woman cries in relief at her saved sister.