“It was a dark and stormy night”…actually, it was. For a reason that remains a mystery to this day Kal and I had decided to go out that evening on a mission without a purpose. That purpose took us out on a sunny and calm evening heading deep across the North Wales coastline heading for The Druid’s Circle near Penmaenmawr.
Rather than walk up the full length of the path I was determined to make the fullest use of the car’s four-wheel drive system. Big mistake. If you visit Druid’s Circle from the Penmaenmawr side, I strongly urge you to park at the two sandstone columns and go no further unless you own a Jeep or a Land Rover – the ruts and holes will kill your suspension!
Somehow we gingerly forced the car to climb the steep rutted path until we reached a flat bit and I let out the breath I had been holding for five minutes. As we stepped out of the car, relieved, we stepped into a Force Eight gale! The wind was picking up quickly, and we hurried to get properly attired (well, I did anyway).
It was still light although dusk wasn’t far away. We stomped off along the now familiar right-hand path round to the top of the hill above Penmaenmawr. Twenty minutes of fighting with the wind and we were in sight of the stone circle as the light faded quickly. When we arrived we laughed – how were we supposed to dowse in this wind??!! Madness. Yet, when we tried, attempting to locate the best place to sit and meditate, the rods turned – against and into a gale!! Dowsing works, folks. It just does.
The dowsing rods led each of us to one of the stones in the south-western end of the circle and we hunkered down behind them. As I sat I noticed that the wind noise abated substantially. It felt like I was in the one place where I might be able to meditate in this howling gale!
Druid Diary excerpt for Druid’s Circle: DD-PMM-041010-1
[podcast]https://www.hedgedruid.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2010/10/DD-PMM-041010-1.mp3[/podcast]
I was right – this was an unusual evening in many ways, and it was about to become even more strange as I met with an entity that I had never encountered before.
The Shadow of a Stag
I stood up from my cosy windbreak and grabbed my rods – there was something I needed to check:-
- Was there a Spirit of Place in this circle this evening? YES.
- Where was it currently located? At a bare circle of earth near the centre of the stone circle.
- Would I be able to work with this Spirit of Place this evening? YES.
- Was the Spirit of Place able to help me with answers to my current quest? YES.
It was all very positive, so I did my usual negativity test, “Am I made of sponge?” – NO. OK, just checking! It’s one thing to have the dowsing rods confirm your intuition, but it’s quite easy to fall prey to imposing your own wishes on the reactions of the rods. It only takes a slight tightening of the grip on the rods to be able to force them to cross as you wish, or to prevent them from doing so.
Back at the tall protective stone megalith I sank into a meditative state despite or perhaps lulled by the fierce wind that tore the grass around me. Like falling asleep at a party the cacophony became a single white noise that slowly retreated out of my consciousness like water through my hands. I focused on a single point – the bare circle where the Spirit of Place should be. After only a minute or two I felt ready to call to it. I sent out one of the luminous threads from my energetic centre, from my assemblage point in front of my navel. Three or four others snaked out too in unison, creeping across the stone circle’s interior like glowing tentacles or the after-image of a sparkler on a November night.
As they touched with the power centre they curled upwards around a tall shadow that seemed to appear as though transitioning out of the night sky into silhouette against the moon’s light. As my eyes tracked upwards along the dark figure’s length they reached its head. The figure had the outline of stag’s antlers! As I pulled my eyes out a bit to take the whole image in at once the figure lightened enough for me to catch a glimpse of a man standing proudly, bare-chested to the waist but with fur-lined legs leading to cloven hooves where feet should have been.
One word sprang into mind straight away, “Herne”. As it formed the stag-man threw his bearded and antlered head back and laughed, turning to look me right in the eyes for a split second. The eyes pierced intensely but the smile was genuine. A voice that was mine, yet which had an air of authority and antiquity spoke inside my head:
Herne: “What do you want of me, Son of Merlin?” (There was that appellation again, the one with which I was uncomfortable).
Me: “I wish to ask you about my spiritual quest. Can I do that?”
Herne: “You may. Ask away.” The figure was now back in dark silhouette with the face hidden in contrast to the moon’s light behind him.
Me: “My current task is to journey into the Underworld and wake the Spirit of Merlin. Where is the best place to do this?”
Herne: “You know this place already. It is Merlin’s place.”
Me: “Dinas Emrys?”
Herne: “Of course.”
Me: “How can I pass safely through the Underworld?”
Herne: “You must learn to become invisible.”
At this statement I looked up and could not see Herne any more. He slipped back into relief out of the shadows and laughed at me, as though to say, “Yes, like that!” I asked him about the shade of Arthur being my guide, about linking to Tintagel, and whether to use the words that Bran had given me in order to wake Merlin, all of which he politely confirmed and slightly elaborated upon for me. I felt very much satisfied that I had done my research properly for this intricate task.
I thanked him and asked him if there was anything else that eh thought I needed to know before we parted. At this he turned to face me again, leaning towards me slightly as though dispensing some secret that he didn’t want any9one else to hear:
Herne: “Of course, you do realise that I am you and you are me, don’t you? Merlin, Arthur, me, you – we are all one. I am them, you are them, they are you and you are me, You do realise that, don’t you?” he said enquiringly. “We are all connected as one within you.”
He nodded his head as though the matter was settled and as though I knew what he meant. I noticed the cue, and began to wrap things up, offering him love and gratitude for his help, and thanking him for making himself known to me. He seemed very satisfied with that, and with a big smile he squatted down on his haunches and with an almighty leap he jumped up into the Moon and disappeared.
I was reeling. To have met Herne (or Cernunnos) felt like a great honour, and a most unexpected one at that because he had not been in my thoughts at all for a very long time. I met back up with Kal and we agreed that we would freeze to death if we didn’t move soon, so we packed up quickly and began to descend along barely moonlit paths, hoping we didn’t stumble and twist an ankle. We trusted to providence and she delivered us safely back to the car as we chatted excitedly about our experiences. I grabbed the recorder and we began to recount out tales. Here’s mine:
Druid Diary excerpt for Druid’s Circle – Gwas’s Tale: DD-PMM-041010-2
[podcast]https://www.hedgedruid.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2010/10/DD-PMM-041010-2.mp3[/podcast]
If you want to hear Kal’s tale, then I will be posting his audio on the Podcast page for download.
Gwas.
