When I was a kid, being an explorer was frowned upon. Perhaps because I was a girl, or maybe, because I was living in a violent Communist Regime, but the act of curious adventure, wild abandon, or unsupervised exploration, was ‘not allowed’. That being said, in a weird, paradoxical way, Communist Bucharest was mostly a safe place for children to play unsupervised, without the threat of being abducted, or assaulted, and so my brother and I were often left to our own devices in the immediate area of our neighbourhood (better known as the tiny park behind our apartment building). And man did we ever create the most epic adventures! Within the parameters dictated by the adults in our lives we climbed trees, creeped our way up onto abandoned construction scaffolds, crawled through bushes full of buzzing bees and sweet sugary lilacs. We dreamed of space ships and mountains, and diving into the murky depths of the Black Sea.
When I say we, I mean more me (lol) my younger brother lived to be my bestie, and though I mostly found him annoying (he’s less than two years younger than me) he was my constant companion, and the most hilarious sidekick.
Modern psychology tells us to heal our inner child, and when I think of my childhood, it is these couple of years, between 8-10 that I cherish. Before the dark times of losing my best friend to a car accident, or coming to Canada and being violently bullied, muddied the waters of my sunlight heart and my adventurous goals.
Perhaps the dark stories are for another day, I don’t want to go back there this morning, as I sit on a veranda in Corfu, Greece and marvel at the massive walnut tree in front of me, absorbing the summer heat, while growing its fruit. I am mesmerized by its heavy laden branches, swaying gently in the warm breeze.
No. Today is a day to write about adventure. Or at least the spark that fuels the flame that’s been dormant for decades. And yes, looking back now I see the light of exploration still burning in the window of my chest. Horseback riding on family trips, rock climbing while camping with friends, roller derby for a decade… the light glowing deep inside, slivers of red and yellow warming the surface of my skin. But I was too busy for looking beneath the busyness of my life. Distracted by work and study and kids and husband and parents, and work and study and kids and husband and parents and friends, and work and study. Too focused outward to look within.
And so the decades passed, good decades, I’m not complaining, or regretting. No. This post is about adventure.
It was Artemis who saved me. I know, I know, you’re all like “Duh Carla” and at the same time I’m sure you’re all rolling your eyes like, “Cliche much? Did I really start reading this post for a Goddess saved me story??” But hear me out. When Artemis reaches Her hand out to you, She’s not gently calling you into Her warm embrace, whispering encouraging sweet nothings in your ear.
No. This is a story about adventure. So when She dug her hand into my rib cage and found the waning spark of peripeteia, She yanked and pulled and dragged me into the path of my forgotten purpose. And yes, that sounds bloodier than you were expecting, but you have to understand that for a Capricorn (me) and a hunter Goddess (Her) there are no warm fuzzy gently coaxing communications. I was ingrained in my busy life. Feet dug deep in an unhappy marriage, hands holding tight to the boredom of my institutionalized job, buried in the numbness and loss of my true purpose. I had no intention to change.
And yet.
She yanked and pulled and dragged, and I did my best to ignore, distract and dismiss the call. In retrospect, I should’ve known She would not let go. Not since the moment I came upon Her in the Roman villa gardens when I was just an undergrad. Lost in a maze of green and gold I stumbled onto Her massive flowing fountain like a dream. Stone and moss and water pouring out of her multi-breasted torso (an inaccurate depiction my academic research has been absorbed in correcting). She stood there at the end of the road. Literally the end of the maze. Against the back wall of the Tivoli property, She stood fifteen feet tall, Her gaze forever facing the Roman display of wealth and conquest, and I knew, I knew She would change my life.
And She did.
Yes. Yes this is a story about adventure. The “Call of the Wild” to cite Jack London, but this is no story about a boy and his wolf. No. This is a story of a girl and the mountains, of wildness within and without. Of rock scrapping, thorn bush jabbing, dehydrating, breathtaking wildness. And while survival is a must, it is discovery that drives this main character narrative forward. Discovery of long lost temples, buried beneath mud and dirt, cracked open by tectonic shifts, pillaged by greed and corruption. The call to reclaim, restore, and reveal all that has been abandoned or abducted for centuries pulls me through olive tree groves buzzing with beehives on the high peaks, and snake infested marshes in the lowlands.
Mesmerized by the songs of cicadas I push through brambles and thorns to document Her sacred sites and bask in the energies of ancient ritual and sacrifice.
Yes. This is a story about adventure. A spark of lightning now thundering wildly in my bones. A return to bright youthful joy, with a glow of life wisdom and a flicker of academic learning.



PS, I think you’re amazing and have a girl crush on you! You’re literally Lara Croft personified!
Pretty ironic you’re a Capricorn aka half mountain goat half fish 💓