Three Ages of Merlin

Three Ages of Merlin


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Myrddin lives. In the rocks at the edge of the field and in the earthy scent of the grass. His inspiration, vibrant in the air and the sound of the stream and waterfall.  Connecting each of us in the joy of life abundant in the elements around us.

His wisdom touching deep within the laughter. The pleasure of good company reflected in the warm smiles on each face. Each showing a willingness to join the games and experiences. Time spent with the intent to enjoy and immerse within the pool of wisdom. We learn. We teach. We share and in the few days together the truth of peace was touched upon and yes, woken each morning by the sweet melodies of the piper, touched something sacred.

Through a guided meditation which led us along the path to Dinas Emrys. Drinking the cleansing waters of the chalice along the way. There upon the hill top we gazed into the seers pool. A message received. Did Merlin speak or the Lady of The Lake? Was it the spirit of the Old Ones that dwell within the mountains of Snowdonia that spoke? Maybe all, We each took something and the impressions are our own. A gift to be treasured.

Merlin looked on.

We moved north to Celyddon after the battle of Arfderydd. Myrddin Gwyllt. The wild Merlin. Had Madness gripped him fully? What is madness? Ask the wild man in the tree wearing the cloak of feathers and sharing food with the animals around him. You may not get an answer you understand but it will be no less true.

In a circle we sat upon the warm grass. Primal grunts and wild screams echoing from the surrounding mountains. This turned to laughter. Spontaneous and infectious laughter driving away all inhibitions. Then rising from the earth reborn as our wild, animal self to run as stags, prowl like great cats, slither as snakes and fly like the Eagle above the mountain tops. Drums, a drum from the deep brought us back to the circle where we rested and lay our wildness to sleep and became our whole self again.

That evening while the new moon was setting. Merlin himself came and told us his story. Entrancing us all with his tale while the stars lit in the deepening blue sky. Then doing what he does best, Merlin, picking up his staff went a wandering.

In the light of the following day Merlin was ritually bound. Imprisoned within Nimue’s Tower. But Merlin is always free to roam and goes as he pleases. Taking the treasures of Briton to the Isle of Bards. There he waits until Arthur wakes from his sleep needing the service and treasures that he holds. Merlin is always ready to share his wisdom if we ask and live in the service of truth, in peace and with nature.

Mother is calling and Merlin, her noble son.

By Jake