The River that led to the First Heathen Original...

15 Minute Read

As published in Life Stands Explained by C.J. Carew:

One hundred and one . . . 101.

That’s how many months separate the official publication dates of the first Heathen Edition (December 15, 2017) and this first Heathen Original (May 15, 2026).

I wish I could say that we planned it that way from the beginning, but I can’t. And I do not subscribe to coincidence, so — rightfully so — the universe has made it so, with its seemingly random yet strategic alignment of varying schedules and contractual deadlines.

But it’s perfect. It’s so perfect.

So utterly perfectly-perfect that I have tears filling my eyes as I type this.

Why?

Because of what that number can mean when you choose to peer beyond its surface. Yes, many college introductory courses begin at 101, and that is, in itself, perfectly fitting for a book entitled Life Stands Explained. But, at its root, in basic terms, 101 represents: form, void, form.

In Jungian psychology, it is the ego confronting the unconscious and returning changed, or the self returning after passing through emptiness, representing a cycle of initiation, void, and re-initiation. A wilderness between two identities; exile and return; death and rebirth; the moment when a person steps into something new, passes through uncertainty, and re-emerges still themselves, but changed.

In short, 101 is the Hero’s Journey in numeric form.

And why it’s perfect is because, as you will soon learn, the Hero’s Journey is, in part, why Life Stands Explained exists. (One could argue it’s the reason any book exists, but let’s stay focused.) However, it’s also perfect because, in many ways, it mirrors the journey of Heathen itself: borne of uncertainty and death (both figurative and literal), unsure of its literary destiny as its creator wrestled with his own destiny, he who has somehow managed, in eight short years, to begin and conclude two wholly and vastly different careers, all while engineering, sustaining, and maintaining a burgeoning Heathen catalog.

We launched Heathen Editions with one book, and now, after eight years, we’re launching Heathen Originals with one book, which brings to mind another way to say 101 — one-oh-one — because a definition of “oh” most assuredly underpins this form-void-form journey of ours—

oh, exclamation. — used to express a range of emotions including surprise, anger, disappointment, or joy.

—because “a void of uncertainty in which a range of emotions has been experienced” is the exact right way, and perhaps the only way, to describe the journey that has taken place between the publication of the first Heathen Edition and this first Heathen Original.

So, how did we arrive at this Original?

In the words of David Foster Wallace, the “screen gets all fuzzy now as the [reader]’s invited to imagine this . . .”

In late 2023, my friend Justin¹ contacted me and said (paraphrased), “Hey, I met this guy at a leadership event, he lives in Charleston, he’s spent a decade writing a book of philosophy, and now he’s looking for a publisher.”

I replied (paraphrased), “I’m not sure we’re ready to publish original works, yet — but I absolutely have to meet this West Virginian who’s spent a decade writing a book of philosophy!”

If you’re not from or in any way familiar with West Virginia, I’m not sure any words exist to accurately express the absurd-rarity of this exchange. Had Justin said, “Hey, check out this video I shot of a real-life, honest-to-God unicorn in Kanawha State Forest,” the immediate, staggering effect would have been the exact same. If I were made to choose a word, though, gun-to-head, then “incredulous” surely nears the bullseye.

And so, on December 22, 2023, we three convened, naturally, at the central and unofficial meeting place of West Virginia creatives: Taylor Books, 226 Capitol St., Charleston.

And since I’ve dug a little into number meanings already, I will say that, in hindsight, that 22 date is not lost on me. In numerology,² the number 22 is considered the “Master Builder” number, symbolizing the ability to turn ambitious dreams into reality through balance, discipline, and practical action. Certainly an auspicious number for this meeting!

I remember I arrived early, got my usual latte, and parked myself near a corner, still incredulous but now a little anxious, and awaited the arrival of “the philosopher.”

Justin arrived next, which I was thankful for because I didn’t actually know what “the philosopher” looked like, although, if I’m being honest, I was hoping for a wild-man hybrid-fusion of full-beard Walt Whitman and crazy-hair Tom Waits.

Then, a gentleman rounded the corner, and my first impression upon seeing him was, “unassuming, soccer dad, probably golfs — this must be our guy,” and, sure enough, Justin introduced me to C.J. Carew.

Next, we ordered a round of coffees, then promptly got down to the business of chitchat. Turns out I was correct about the soccer-dad and golf-playing impressions, but, according to the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator, I’m an INFJ, so that means I know you better than you know you.³ And life experience, married with twenty years of filmmaking know-how, has taught me that unless you’re auditioning an actor for Bozo the Clown, “unassuming” is always the best first impression. If someone arrives to a first meeting “assuming” and strutting like a peacock, good luck!

Another impression I perceived about C.J. after a couple minutes of conversation was that he seemed a little cocky — not a lot, just a little (certainly not enough to render the “unassuming” impression null) — which made me curious, “Were you born here?” I asked.

“No, I was born and raised in New Jersey. I’ve only lived in West Virginia for a decade.”

Aha! Jersey: where cockiness is ingrained like attitude in a rooster. But, I mean, to be fair, living next door to an assemblage of entitled New Yorkers is enough to make any persons cocky — generationally. *insert rooster crow here*

After a few more minutes of general meet-and-greet appetizer-talk, then came the main course: “So, tell me about this book of philosophy that you’ve written.”

And that’s when I noticed a discernible change in C.J.’s demeanor: down came the Jersey-borne defenses and he locked in to that “thing” I’ve begun to notice is present in all bona fide writers: an inimitable authenticity . . .

Imagine, if you will (re: DFW’s fuzzy screen), that, as C.J. began telling his story, all of the background actors quietly gathered their things and slowly exited, just as the background soundtrack volume gradually decreased, lowering in tandem with the background lighting, leaving C.J. spotlit in a chair, articulating a soliloquy so moving that your eyes could only ever do one thing: leak.

Artistic expression spewed forth like soldiers storming a beach, the cannons of inspiration sounded, booming names: Jung, Campbell, Twain, Seuss, Emerson, Frankl, Updike. In one moment, C.J. was recounting life when he was at his lowest, when life itself was at its darkest, then the next moment was accented with a hard-won, golden-rayed, silver-lined cosmic revelation disguised as a ba-dum-tss joke. I was moved, engrossed, I wanted — no, I needed — to know more, so the very first thing I did was attempt to convince C.J. that we were not the publisher for him, “We’ve never published an original work before, and if we were to, then you’d be the first, and that ride might be turbulent and a whole lotta not-fun as we discover that process.”

A wide grin tore across his face, “I like the idea of being the first Heathen Original. There’s something novel about that!”

I then spent the next several minutes trying to convince him otherwise, but he was undeterred. If I zigged, he zagged; if I lunged, he parried. Justin’s head moved back and forth as if he were watching a ping-pong match. I began to get the impression that C.J. showed up to the meeting knowing that we were the publisher for him, no matter what, come hell or high water, and that’s when I remembered: Jersey. *insert rooster crow here*

“Okay, okay,” I said, “Send me your manuscript, and we’ll go from there.”

A couple weeks later, I got my first look at Life Stands Explained — all 350 pages of it.

A couple weeks later, I received a revised copy.

A week later, I received another revised copy.

A week after that, another revision.

Two weeks later: yep, another.

“We’ve got a tinkerer!” I exclaimed.

It seems to me that writers generally fall into one of two categories: one-and-dones or tinkerers. Both can be maddening in their own way: one-and-done’s generally believe that they’ve already said best that which they needed to say and must be wholly convinced that revisions will improve their work, whereas tinkerer’s generally believe that they can say better that which they’ve already said and must be wholly convinced that revisions must end (soon; very soon; no — now) or the work will never get published.

I’m chuckling as I type this because I’m a tinkerer myself, so I know the struggle well. It’s taken me six days to arrive at this point of this Heathenry as I write and rewrite and revise, then revise some more, while I’m simultaneously waiting on C.J., ever the tinkerer, to send me his last and final-final-no-really-I-promise-these-are-the-final revisions for this book. But, I digress! Back to our timeline:

At the time, I honestly wasn’t sure what to make of C.J.’s 350-page manuscript. If I were made to choose a word, though, “unwieldy” nears the mark. Within it, there was a book, but I didn’t feel qualified to start hacking away at it to discover it. Part of that unqualified feeling was wrestling with the possibility that this might be our first Original, which meant our first time working with a living, breathing author, which meant that I didn’t know what our process for doing that was, exactly, because I wasn’t sure how to look a living, breathing author in the eyes and tell them that they needed to cut a hundred pages out of something they had poured their heart and soul into for a decade (re: turbulent discovery).

And then I got busy working full-time for the second of my two aforementioned eight-year-spanning careers, and all Heathen work went (mostly) quiet for a year.

During that time, in a moment of contention with my boss, I was reminded of the proverb — if you don’t have a plan for yourself, you’ll become a part of someone else’s — and I realized that I had allowed myself to get sidetracked from my Heathen plan. Here I was experiencing the exile and return, the death and rebirth — I had stepped into something new, passed through uncertainty, and was now re-emerging changed. My Heathen resolve re-forged in a fire of reaffirming realization. *insert rooster crow here*

And, within what seemed like hours of that realization, as if on some grand cosmic, celestial cue, C.J. sent me a revised copy of his manuscript (again) — all 250 pages of it.

He had, unprompted yet somehow knowingly, taken it upon himself to fiercely eliminate one hundred pages.

I read it immediately.

And within the macro of C.J.’s manuscript — the personal story he tells, the universal wisdom he shares — I recognized the micro journey of my own reaffirming realization, and that’s when I knew that the universe was doing that seemingly random yet strategic alignment of circumstances, and that’s when I knew:

This was the book.

Its time was now.

This would be the first Heathen Original.

A little over a week later, after I had quickly gotten all of our preliminaries in order, I sent C.J. the first ever Heathen Originals publishing agreement.

Then, seven weeks later, after some negotiation, it was signed and made official on May 19, 2025 — and here we are.

For the record, I will say that I greatly admire C.J. for having the courage to cut one hundred pages out of his manuscript. I know how attached he was to those words, so I don’t even have to confirm with him to know that that was his own micro form-void-form Hero’s Journey.

And in that personal act there is a universal lesson . . .

Joseph Campbell taught “the cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek” and “choose your sacrifice, or it will be chosen for you.”

Those one hundred pages meant all the difference in C.J.’s book getting published. He feared losing those words — that was the cave he feared to enter — but he willingly chose to sacrifice them, and in that act he found the treasure he sought — for you now hold that treasure in your hands.

And, I will say, C.J. has set a high bar for all Heathen authors to follow because now I will never hesitate to look a living, breathing author in the eyes and say, “C.J. Carew cut one hundred pages out of his manuscript, and his book was all the better for it. Are you willing to do the same?”

Finally, I want to bring your attention to a recurring undercurrent that you will soon discover in the pages ahead: it was only on my fourth read-through of this book that I became aware that water is present in nearly all of the turning points of C.J.’s life story — crossing a river led to the discovery of the book that inspired him to become an author, then, later, staring into a bathtub of water induced the realization that his life had to change. He even quotes a line from Ralph Waldo Emerson’s essay “Spiritual Laws” concerning a river, but I want to present the full passage here because there is much wisdom to be gleaned from it:

“Each man has his own vocation. The talent is the call. There is one direction in which all space is open to him. He has faculties silently inviting him thither to endless exertion. He is like a ship in a river; he runs against obstructions on every side but one; on that side all obstruction is taken away, and he sweeps serenely over a deepening channel into an infinite sea. This talent and this call depend on his organization, or the mode in which the general soul incarnates itself in him. He inclines to do something which is easy to him and good when it is done, but which no other man can do. He has no rival. For the more truly he consults his own powers, the more difference will his work exhibit from the work of any other. His ambition is exactly proportioned to his powers. The height of the pinnacle is determined by the breadth of the base. Every man has this call of the power to do somewhat unique, and no man has any other call.”

I have ruminated on that passage for weeks now because I am fascinated by the series of circumstances and events that have led to the existence of this book — how C.J. and I are like ships in Emerson’s river, where our obstruction-less sides have brought us together. To bring meaning full circle in this Heathenry, it’s not lost on me that the 2014 water cri–er, uh, *ahem* kerfuffle (occurring in a river, no less) is what brought C.J. to West Virginia; a kerfuffle without which C.J. likely would never have written this book, likely would never have met Justin, and Justin would never have introduced us.

Water is the oldest language the world speaks: the first darkness before creation, the mirror of the soul, the border between life and death, the womb and the grave, the flood that erases and the spring that renews. It is the unconscious rising in dreams, the baptism that drowns the false self, the river that remembers, the sea that forgets, the force that moves mountains, and the threshold every pilgrim must cross. In every tradition it is origin, danger, purification, desire, oblivion, and return — an element that holds both chaos and clarity, both dissolution and rebirth. To speak of water is to speak of the human condition itself: fluid, perilous, transformative, necessary, always seeking its level.

In short, water is the Hero’s Journey in elemental form.

Knowing all of this, I now ask you, dear reader:

What is the cave that you currently fear to enter?

What is the sacrifice that you are afraid to make?

If those questions stirred something in you, then that stirring is precisely why this book has found its way into your hands . . . no matter who you are, where you are, or when you are, you must know that it was not coincidence or chance that brought you into possession of this book — it was, of course, a seemingly random yet strategic alignment of circumstances — because how could it be otherwise?

That stirring is your threshold-moment — the point where the river claims you, the path before you clears, and the Hero’s Journey refuses to let you turn back. So unfurl your ship’s sails, catch these winds of change, and let’s move downriver as C.J. teaches us that PLAY is the way!

Sheridan Cleland
Co-Heathen
March 2026

Life Stands Explained: The Simple Fun Book That’s All About You — and why Something like Nothing is Everything! by C.J. Carew will be published on May 15, 2026, and is available now for preorder.

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