The Goat Whisperer Is Born

She ascended the steep mountain early in the morning on a hot summer day. She suddenly sensed the soft whispers of her Greek ancestors in her heart. The faint markings of goat herds created paths that were wild without clear markings that led through the pine clad mountains. Dried pine needles crunched beneath her feet with each step and the scent of wild sage filled the air. Dogs barked protecting the shepherd’s flocks and as she climbed higher their sounds faded off in the distance.

Many told her not to go, especially not alone and as a woman, that it wasn’t safe and way too dangerous. They feared she may get eaten by a wild pig (something that never crossed her mind before in San Francisco). There was something stronger in her than fear that was driving her upward. Those questions fueled her climb. What would she find up the mountain? What was she really looking for? What was looking for her? It didn’t matter that those questions were unanswered. She knew she had to go. Although this was her first climb and the path was wild, she didn’t know where this came from but there was a strong sense of where to go.

Her shirt was drenched with sweat after several hours in the blazing sun. She found a moment of relief in the shade just outside a cave. The cave was dark, damp and deep and she was unsure about entering not knowing how far it went into the earth. She rested on a rock drinking crisp water from the freshly melted snow she collected from a fountain at the bottom of the mountain. The fountain was one of the signs of humans attempting to harness this wild nature. She closed her eyes as her breath slowed down from the vigorous climb.

In that moment, she heard the muffled sound of a flute from inside the cave. At first, she was startled, assuming she was alone. The sweet melody seduced her and transported her to a dream world. Her breath quickened as a pulse ran through her body tingling her skin from head to toe. She felt alive in a way that she had long forgotten. The sound came close and out of the shadows trotted Pan (the half-goat, half-man deity of nature) with a matted coat of hair and a look of surprise on his face. He was clearly expecting one of the forest nymphs.

She was a woman from a far away land that had long ago forgotten its gods. Many people warned her that this was a different kind of place. That the mountains were wild, untamed in nature and the mythos lived out loud. And there she was, standing face to face with Pan. He looked her up and down with curiosity as he hadn’t seen a human creature in quite some time. After circling her with his hoofs clacking on the hard ground like tap shoes, he said, “you’ll do.” Pan offered to tell her secrets about life hidden deep inside the cave. He beckoned her by playing music on his flute. The breath between his notes awakened her wild nature that had been long tamed by civilation.

She wanted to trust Pan even though most myths painted him as an unreliable character. She felt conflicted because a part of her was filled with doubt and fear and yet there was another part of her that for some unexplained reason trusted him not to lead her astray. In the end, curiosity pulled her forward and she followed him into the cave. It was silent except for the echoes of their footsteps and the sound of her heart pounding in her chest. She lost sight in the pitch-black darkness. A shiver went down her back from the sudden temperature drop. Something greater was taking over and she could feel herself beginning to surrender to her role in a greater story. A place where the veil between human and mythos began to lift.

After walking in the dark for what felt like an eternity, Pan stopped and lit a match to reveal intricate paintings on the wall. She traced the rough lines with her hands trying to understand what was in front of her. While her eyes could not comprehend, her heart was tuning to the ancient wisdom. She stepped into the painting and became it herself. The separation between human and mythos dissolved. The great mystery was playing its part through her as she leapt into the unknown.

And that is the moment, when the villagers retell the story, they share that the goat whisperer was born.

Wild Mountains of Amelantes, Evia