In a remote glen in northern Brittany, a man olden in years sat on an ancient power stone. The darkness pressed in around him. He was centered solidly within his body, calm of heart and soul. Truly he was blissful as his long life had been lived with integrity, vision and meaning. Knowing the measure of his self-worth, he was humble and grateful for the gifts life had given him.

He let the Earth Mother and the Spirits of the Darkness dream with him. He was old, very old. His life had spanned such a great amount of time. Few people could truly comprehend all that he had seen. Only his oldest students and the priests and priestesses of his Order could come close to his understanding of reality. For them, and with them, he shared his knowledge of the working of the Divine Spirit's flow in the world and within the people. He was very skilled in the arts of mysticism and healing, but he was also a warrior and protector of his people and all living beings. His life was dedicated to the liberation of all beings so they could realize their innate origin and connection to the sacred divinity that flowed within all corners of the universe.

His approach was lovingly open-hearted, yet with great forethought and discernment. It had been many long years since he himself had been initiated, along with his spiritual brothers and sisters, into their Secret Society. As he grew and matured he would inevitably become responsible for the training and induction of many acolytes from those long-forgotten generations.

As so many of his predecessors had, he took on the title and role of a Merlin. There were usually several Merlins alive at any time. Now, after such a great span of time had passed, only two other adepts from his generation remained. One was his sister, Bridget, and the other, a traveler that became known as Warren.

So the Merlin sat, contemplating the closeness he shared with Bridget and her deep, piercing vision. After well over 200 years, he was still amazed at her ability to see into the deepest essence of a situation. She could not access all of Spirit's mysteries, but her prophecy was unparalleled in its precision. Like him, she had learned the secrets of how to extend a life, far past its normal age. As an art of its own, it was a mystical dance between impeccability, time, space, dreaming, and substance.

In his dreaming, he could see Bridget's face clearly in his mind's eye. He knew that she could sense his dreaming of her. Heart Love passed between them across the distance of space, and they both smiled as they went about their separate endeavors. As he contemplated the coming end of his own life, his mind wandered to his long friendship with Warren.

The Merlin remembered how, at the age of 127, the young traveler leading his white horse, boldly walked trance-like into the temple's settlement. The young man had power emanating all around him, like fields of light and sparks. Enhancing his mystique, the man also carried a sword. Immediately upon his arrival, the Elders of the Order perceived that he had followed an internal vision to find his way to the settlement. He could not have found them otherwise. Because of the mist of illusion that surrounded the temple, only one permitted by the ancestral spirits would find their way there.

Warren's first encounter with the community was tense for everyone. His sudden arrival put everyone on edge. It didn't help that he spoke not a word of the people's tongue. Yet in spite of his vastly different appearance and language, they could see that he showed great dignity and courage. He was fearless when challenged by the temples' warriors. Warren had lived the life of a warrior. He had been fighting and negotiating his way from distant lands and eventually was led across the sea to this sacred land, all while following his vision. Warren was born on the harsh windswept easternmost stepped lands of his wild Mongolian tribesmen, his appearance was unlike anything the Merlin's Celtic people had ever seen.

It took awhile, but once the difficulties of communication and culture were bridged, Warren became a much-loved protector of the community. As a result, the Merlin felt a mutual bond of brotherhood with Warren.

Seeing the gifts the dark-skinned man possessed, the Elders realized that if he were to stay among the people of the temple, he would need to be initiated into the mysteries. The Elders entrusted Warren to the Merlin for direct training so Warren would be ready for the coming Solstice Initiation.

Warren eventually realized that his apprenticeship to a Merlin was a very unique opportunity. Because of his position and rank, the Elder Merlin was responsible for deciding the fitness of all the prospective male initiates.

In the darkened forest, the Merlin sat on his power stone, gaining mystical assistance from the energies stored there by previous Merlins and Elders. Delving deeply into his own memories for insights, he began reminiscing on pleasant memories. He didn't initially anticipate that this stranger with blood on his hands would engender such respect but, the old Merlin grew to love his student very much. During the training, he learned as much from the young man as the young man learned from him.

Many years had passed since that first encounter. Now over two hundred cycles of the seasons had passed since his birth, and the old patriarch was now the oldest Merlin alive. This night he must once more help to select the new generation of apprentices for his Order. However, this particular evening he felt a stronger urgency than he had felt in a long time. This would be his last Solstice ritual. He sensed that his companion Time, and his ally Death, The Transformer, were near. Still relaxed and without fear, he silently said, "Hello" to these forces he had come to know so intimately. He no longer feared them.

Turning his vision still deeper inward, the Merlin looked long into the great mystery within himself. Working to expand the reach of his awareness, he took note of what he perceived around him and pulled in every nuance. This summer Solstice evening was warm and heavy with the weight of humidity in the air. The stars could be seen over the hills and lands of Brittany. With a razor sharp clarity, he could See with his spiritual vision the living things that moved about in the darkness of this wild land. The scent of plants and herbs emanated into the air, and the heady vitality they possessed could be felt. The smell of the moist earth carried itself to his nose. Breathing deeply into his whole body he let it fill him. Although he was very old and the body was tired, he was more alive than ever before.

He sensed that this land was ancient and alive with a great, pulsating life-force. If he listened closely enough, he could almost hear the heartbeat of the Earth Mother Goddess. She was joyfully giving her blessings and prayers to this land, this sacred place on her vast body. He was Seeing her as she watched over her children as they went about walking, flying, crawling and slithering on her lands and in her waters. He could see the joy she took in their dances. Sensing her joy pleased him.

The Great Mother was singing a song to her children through their dreams. In that ballad, she urged them on to grow and multiply, to live and die, to grow and change. The cycles of life moved ever forward, creating a living crystalline fluidity that was always transforming into new vistas.

A tear of joy formed in...