Ares - or Mars as he was known to the Romans - is often thought of as the God of War, one who delights in battle and slaughter for its own sake; but in truth this is not so.

Historians suggest worship of Ares began in Thrace, and there is evidence to confirm he was honoured throughout Greece though particularly in Thrace and Scythia; but admit that little more is known of him other than Homer's depiction, wherein the Iliad his father Zeus is quoted thundering about his son's enjoyment of strife, war and battles. 'Thou hast the obstinate and unmanageable disposition of thy mother Hera, whom I can scarcely control with my words.' 
    Thus Homer managed to insult Hera and Ares in his desire for a good story at the expense of insight into their true natures. Ares is consigned to mythical history as a 'furious god, by nature wicked and fickle.'

We can only wonder how, and in what context Ares proved to the poet how wrong he was, and chances are Hera made it extra uncomfortable.

As a consequence of ten years' weekly encounters with Ares never once did he show evidence of rage and slaughtery abandon. Quite the opposite, in fact.
     Ares is a God of war but it is the war against evil, and battles are fought at many different levels and dimensions of existence. Ares is the soldier general whose responsibility it is to defend against evil forces. Ultimately Ares is the God of hope - or rather faith - that good will triumph over evil.
    Doubtless he can and is ruthless to the enemy, but never is he cruel to those who respect him. 

The appearance of Ares is preceded by a brilliant red flash of light. Ares is tall, muscular and fierce. He wears a military breastplate studded with gold, and a helmet likewise golden. He also wears the military pleated skirt of the ancient warriors. Ares has dark brown eyes and short brown hair, is clean shaven. His hands are huge and his forearms protected by wristbands.
    Around his waist is a wide belt in which is sheathed an enormous broad- sword. Ares' presence is fearsome, his voice deep and commanding:

"I am the mighty God Ares. In the past many mortals have trembled at the sound of my name, and so they should. I am all powerful."

Encounters with Ares nearly always involve tests of courage in a battlefield situation. As with every God or Goddess, Ares' powers include the ability to create any reality in which to place you. Although the combatants tend to be symbolic, their presence feels real enough and team-members describe crawling through bloody battles from a whole variety of ages - from slings and arrows to hi-tech weapons of the 21st century. 
    Be aware, these are not dream states - team-members describe them as extremely realistic. Blows can be felt. But these tests seem designed both to strengthen individual courage and demonstrate the utter senselessness of war between humankind.

However, from time to time Ares tests for other things as the following team member's account reveals:

'...As always with Ares the temple was flooded with red light and then his massive presence towering over the altar:

"...Your offerings and homage are accepted by me, the mighty Ares, tonight which is is now known as my night in your temple. So many temples now are mine. There will be more. My presence is now felt by many mortals. 
    I am seen and heard, which pleases me."

I was taken from the temple into dry arid landscape and I could see him in the distance standing on a small hill - I've seen him standing on a small hill before. He beckoned to me.
    I set off toward him but within a few steps it rained. It poured down. I was soaking wet yet I felt refreshed and the slog toward him didn't seem so bad. I was able to get near to him and there was a red glow coming from him and I felt much warmth from the glow, not just heat warmth but warmth of spirit.

Assuming it was to be a battlefield experience, I realised something else was ahead for me. I saw beside him a table on top of which was a collection of boxes, each the size of a small side-plate.

"One of these is a box of happiness. The others contain a mixture of misery and discontent."

I looked at them. They weren't very big. One was made of ivory, another of tortoise-shell, another was mother-of-pearl and one of tin. Another box was oak but beautifully polished. The last was made of pine.
    I had to choose one of these.
    Ivory? No. Nor tortoise-shell. I thought of the suffering. Same thing for the mother-of-pearl. There were the oak and the pine boxes. The oak looked lovely, SO highly polished but I thought of the tree being chopped down, the pine tree too.
    So I chose the tin box. Its material was taken from the ground.

"What makes you pick that one?" Asked Ares, "The cheapest, and of no value?"
    I said, because no animal has to suffer and no tree has to be chopped down.
    Ares, this mighty warrior God picked up the tiny tin box, it was so small in his massive fist, he opened it and out floated little silver stars, ever so tiny.

"You have picked the tin of happiness."
    I was SO pleased I had found it.
    But next it was battle-field test. All around the landscape there suddenly appeared men-at-arms, cavalry and the sound of combat. 
    I would have to wait before I could enjoy the happiness I had found.'

Temple Diaries: First Contact
Temple Diaries Journal Tuesday

Festival of Ares & Typhon
- 11th & 12th November