Why do you ask me about death when you do not know how to live?
Death and Change
A total change in consciousness may be caused by any of a myriad of states—love, danger, illness, tragedy, drugs, or visions. Whatever the catalyst, the result is to experience a totally different view of the world. For Merlin, death was the prompt and with it came a fearful madness. Our modern age would refer to ‘post-combat stress’, and certainly the effects of war must go deep into the psyche. Any conflict fought in the Dark Ages would have been a bloody affair and not easily forgotten except by the most battle-hardened veteran. Debate continues as to the precise location of the relevant battle and even the identity of the enemy. Did Merlin fight alongside Rodarcus, King of the Cumbri, against Guennolous, the King of Scotia (Scotland)? If he did, in this conflict three brothers of whom Merlin was very fond perished in the battle. Alternatively, the death of Gwenddolau, his friend and mentor, slain by the Saxons at the battle of Arderydd, might have brought about his insanity.
If the latter account is correct, the historian will imply that the Celtic culture is dying with Gwenddolau, and has its swan song in Merlin. Rhydderch Hael, the victor, is a Christian king, and Merlin fears he and his men will persecute the wizard because of his beliefs. In some accounts Merlin becomes king and rules Gwenddolau’s kingdom for a time. It is also suggested that he was once king of the Demetae, the men of Dyfed in southwestern Wales.
Whether one or both accounts are merely allegories of Merlin’s endless powers—the Wizard as King—is not clear. The outcome, however, is the same. Merlin flees into the forest and wanders among the trees in a hopeless delirium. What were the feelings he experienced? Although a wizard, he was still a mortal man. We can speculate that despair, anger, and a strange vulnerability were among his emotions. All this perhaps was greater than any anxiety about losing his sanity.
The concept of ‘normality’ is relatively modern—eccentricity of behaviour being once a hallmark of the English character. Visionaries, hermits, and saints would have been less of a rarity in Merlin’s time, so his behaviour would not have been judged with reference to any rigid standard of conformity. In the twenty-first century, society is all too ready to decide what is ‘appropriate behaviour’. The result has been legislation against the medium and the clairvoyant. Our obsession with quantifying everything has become detrimental to our spiritual well-being.
Merlin must weather the psychic storm until he gains the wisdom that will enable him to attain the next level of his enlightenment. He must endure in order to gain, for this is not his end but his beginning. Those on the threshold of spiritual transformation often experience a ‘paradoxical disequilibrium’. Merlin has become unbalanced, and he must regain his position on the Middle Pillar of the Qabalah Tree of Life. Every trained magician is familiar with the old adage, ‘To Know, to Will, to Dare, and to Be Silent’. He learns which approach of these four to employ at any particular moment. Only with this skill does he remain in harmony with the universe. When an occultist as powerful as Merlin is out of kilter, the result is a full-blown disorientation. His power, volatile because it is a combination of the elements of Fire and Air, implodes and shatters his reason.
Fear gives rise to imaginings—the distorted detritus of the mind. Only when the mind is calm are true visions seen. This is the Darkness of Initiation, and not even Merlin can escape this ‘harrowing of hell’. It is an essential part of the magickal journey to encounter great danger, when the mettle is tested and the core is shaken. It is at these moments that the soul comes into its own, soaring to heights unimaginable. The intensity of the experience creates the energy to deal with the disturbance. It is as if the balance must always be maintained—the greater the crisis, the more rewarding the subsequent gain. Within one’s own mind dwell the most hideous monsters created by oneself. They are composed of fears, unfulfilled desires, and probably karmic debts. Their purpose is to obstruct the spiritual development and to dissuade the initiate from remaining on his path. The truly enlightened person has had to learn to deal with this challenge, and he knows his magickal education would be incomplete without it. It is admittedly a terrifying and debilitating experience, and there is little consolation in being informed that the higher one ascends the spiritual mountain, the bigger the demons that are lying in wait there.
It is love that scatters these shadows, making them scurry back to the dark corners where they belong. If fear is our most negative emotion, then love is the most positive. With love there is nothing in this world that cannot be achieved. Love of one’s self is an essential step before one can love another, then ultimately universal love should follow. Merlin’s madness can be seen as another step on the way to becoming the ultimate seer. His is the most significant sacrifice since Osiris was mutilated by his brother Seth. Merlin’s destruction and resurrection is a manifestation of yet another magickal paradox. Two apparently irreconcilable principles—chaos and light—meet to create a third element—understanding. A state of equilibrium returns when Merlin finds succour through the healing element of Water. Only then does his reason return.
Merlin is the first magician to embrace male and female energies. His alter egos, Morgan le Fay the sorceress and Nimmue the water nymph, both act as his shadow, throwing into relief his own magickal character. His relationship with them both is the foundation for the alchemical symbiosis of the Sun and the Moon. Thus Merlin establishes a magickal template for the magicians of the Renaissance to follow. His love for Nimmue, which effectively ends his association with Arthur, is far more than the folly of an old man. It is the necessary transformation of the old star magick into the era of the wise woman.
Wild Wizard
Study again the Magician of the Tarot, he is alone. The card of the Hermit, the dark side of Mercury, makes the point even more tellingly. The magickal calling is not conducive to society and the social whirl. Sharing experience is a definite need for most Homo sapiens; they seek to refer to each other, but magicians as a rule do not yearn for the company of others. For Merlin his situation was even more extreme, and he found himself lonely and isolated. Perhaps his state was even more acute for he knew he could gain no solace from the love or friendship of any mortal. Even the deities seemed to have deserted him. Where was Lugh? Where was Rhiannon? As Merlin was as close to being a god himself as it is possible for any mortal to be, perhaps he felt that any plea would have been as him making exhortations to a mirror. He could only hope that the Heavens might at some time in the future prefer a whole wizard to a demented version.
As has been said, the only demons are those that we invoke in the mind. Our mistakes and unfulfilled desires accumulate in a part of our psyche that astrologers designate to be the Twelfth House. Once called the House of Undoing, it is ruled by Neptune, the planet of delusion. None can aid Merlin as he wanders delirious in the wild woods, neither would they be able to gaze on his tortured countenance, nor listen to the ravings that pour from a soul in agony. For Merlin the experience is literally mind-blowing, and his heart yearns for that most precious of all states—peace of mind. The magickal energies have polarized and are temporarily impossible to reconcile. Visions follow one another with mind-warping intensity. His fevered mind has given him an extraordinary perception so that he can observe the secrets of all things. But the price of such revelations is too high.
Eventually the momentous force produced by his mental conflict will give rise to a third element. This god-energy, being superior to the man-made invention of duality, will eventually bring clarity to him. Not that this knowledge can make the tortures Merlin has to bear any less debilitating and painful. But he is a man of fortitude, who would agree with the sentiment of Winston Churchill: ‘When you’re going through Hell, keep on going’. Merlin has no desire to be mad, nor does he enjoy his madness. It is just brain fever, and although it brings insights, in his heart he knows they have no value per se. A few of our more vociferous New Age visionaries might learn from this as they broadcast disordered revelations to the world while believing them to be divine messages.
As one who debates the subject of magick, I am often called upon to explain its nature. For the intuitive, it is easier to comprehend metaphysics than physics. Science has never found a role for the imagination, actively shunning this quality of the mind since the eighteenth century. Understanding the idea of the ‘Magickal Imagination’ is an essential part of any definition of magick. In doing so, one should be careful to distinguish between ‘fantasy’ and ‘imagination’, as they are most certainly not the same thing.
Magick schools teach that the imagination may be trained to create an Inner World, so ‘real’ that it may be summoned and entered at any time. The purpose of this exercise is to gain access to the Inner Planes—the timeless dimension where the magician experiences, and participates in, events beyond ordinary consciousness. A fantasy is a conscious desire to picture a world that is ‘extra-ordinary’, a willingness to take part in a daydream or a ‘pipe dream’. Its purpose is to divert or entertain the self or others. A writer of fantasy, such as Terry Pratchett, masterfully achieves this end. It is interesting that Pratchett often satirises all things esoteric, and in interviews has been actively dismissive of anything ‘spiritual’, or ‘New Age’. In doing so, Pratchett aligns himself with the godless scientist, which is perhaps his intention.
None may affect the destiny of the magician; they do not possess the power to effect any change. He is beholden only to the gods of magick, whoever or whatsoever he deems these to be. The magician is master of his destiny, and Merlin, being the greatest of the magi, not only wills what is to happen, but divines the outcome. Lesser magicians fall foul of the errors and temptations that can beset any mortal. The great crises of life help to shape us and make us what we really are. The mettle of Merlin had been tested, and he realises he has only one course left—that is, to leave his fate in the hands of Spirit. In doing so, he forever demonstrates his utter faith and affinity with the workings of the cosmos. Having served the Earth Mother so well in providing a god king who would serve and protect her, Merlin requests the Goddess to sustain his own being in this time of trial.
Shaman
All times of trial have but one result for those of us upon the magickal path—that of discovering who we are. It is also a question of ‘who we might be’, for none of us, until we encounter such a test, can know how we will react. As nothing remains constant so we will be tested again and again, even as our understanding grows. Merlin does not make mistakes; he accepts any situation for what it is and acts according to his instincts. The term instinctive is apposite, because it is how animals react and much of the shamanic tradition includes animals as totem spirits. We shall now investigate shamanism as part of our study.
The tradition originates in Siberia and Mongolia, and shaman means ‘one who knows’. That ‘knowing’ is of the folklore, and thus the mindset, of the people whom the shaman aids. For them he provides explanations of the changes in the world, and he achieves this by entering the supernatural world and encountering the spirits that reside there. His interaction with these beings enables him to find ways to treat illness, or to gain answers to questions. He travels in two spheres—the ‘upper world’ associated with, among other images, mountains and the sky, and the ‘lower world’ with caves and tunnels.
The initiation of a shaman is often brought about by serious illness or even a near-death experience. Here we see a parallel with the ‘initiation’ of Merlin through his madness. The shaman also has an ‘initiatory crisis’ when he acts in a disturbed or bizarre manner, and Merlin has this experience as well. The shamanic practice of ‘shapeshifting’ is intrinsic to Celtic lore, and Merlin has been a dwarf, a damsel, a page, a greyhound, and an owl. His totemic creatures include the stag, pig, wolf, and goat. But before we are tempted to label Merlin as the ‘first of the shamans’ we should note a basic difference in approach between the two traditions. This is in the understanding and purpose of the soul. In Celtic animism, all things in the world are considered to possess a soul, thus they are linked in a universal whole. In the shamanic tradition souls are seen as separate entities, to be contacted, controlled, or released as the shaman sees fit. Meeting with these souls is achieved by various means, generally through ecstatic trance.
It seems evident that Merlin is not in the business of evoking spirits for the purpose of solving personal problems. In his magickal practice he employs natural energies to cause changes in the material world, but this is not the same as the ‘shamanic journey’. Many magicians regard the evoking of spirits as a dangerous, even pointless, exercise. Invoking Qabalistic or angelic essences is a very different procedure. It is one that is favoured by magicians, and more often than not provides the desired result. There are ‘dabblers’ who are foolish enough to attempt to evoke spirits from the lower astral planes. If they are successful, and fortunately for themselves they rarely are, they may have to deal with something very nasty indeed. Certainly the shaman and the wizard share common beliefs, and both are prepared to voluntarily involve themselves in uncanny experiences. The magician espouses a state of complete freedom, independent of his earthly existence. The shaman goes even further, embracing the idea that his greatest achievement would be to attain a state of permanent death. If he is aware that he is dead then he has nothing to fear. Thus, his perceptions may be tempered by a constant awareness of the presence of death, leading to a truer perspective of life.
Jung speaks of the ‘Shadow’, that darkness that we all possess and that is part of ourselves whether we wish it to be or not. It is lodged in the unconscious and owes its form to the material that is at odds with the consciousness of its owner. Its nature is primitive and as yet not integrated in the whole being. The Shadow occupies that path on the Qabalah Tree of Life between Malkuth and Yesod. It must not be regarded as being the same as the ‘Dweller on the Threshold’. The only link between the two is in the realm of past lives. The Shadow is only attached to the individual’s present incarnation. The Dweller on the Threshold combines all the past lives of the individual and is in the Eastern view the ‘facing up’ to personal karma. Upon the Qabalistic Tree it would correspond to the sphere of Chesed. To continue with the Qabalistic correspondence, an integration of the soul is achieved in the sphere of Tiphareth, but this is not enough to sever the ties of the past. It takes a journey across the abyss of Daath to wholly achieve this. In appearance, the Dweller is terrible to behold, a reversal of the Higher Self, yet only the part that has not yet been integrated. Thus a divine quality surrounds it.
Merlin is only too aware of this figure that inevitably he must face, and he also knows that his personal suffering will go some way to ridding himself of any karmic debts.
Wild Beast
The Chinese regard the dragon as a celestial stag, and this magnificent creature is a prominent symbol in many cultures. A white stag is often sent as a guide by the denizens of the Otherworld. It also may be the lord of that place. A proud and highly aware animal, it represents the power of the mind. It is a symbol of alertness and a readiness to follow the intuition of dreams, thus acknowledging transformation. In the Middle Ages, the devices painted on shields were designed to give protection in battle. The stag is ubiquitous in heraldic designs because of its supposed mystical power. Among the ancients, the priest-god adorned himself with stag’s horns to identify with his quarry, hunter and hunted then becoming one.
The most renowned deity of the hunt is Diana. Artemis, the sister of Apollo, is also a goddess of the hunt and the Moon, as Diana. In the link with Apollo the alchemical joining of the Sun and Moon is symbolized. The god who personifies both the hunter and the hunted is Cernunnos (Gaulish—carnon—antler; Old Irish—cern—horn). He is ‘Lord of the Animals’ who has through the ages come down to us as Herne the Hunter. Similar deities exist in other cultures: Pan of the Greeks, the Minotaur of the Minoans and Pashupati, the Hindu ‘Lord of the Animals’. These three entities may have had a common myth to unite them, but if so it still lays undiscovered. Cernunnos was also not above regarding his enemies as his prey and hunting them down as well. Let us observe how Merlin, too, is capable of one deadly act of vengeance.
A bizarre sequence of events leads to an equally strange tragedy. Still in the grip of madness, Merlin returns briefly to the court where his wife Guendolena still pines for him. She tells Merlin that she will willingly live in the forest with him. Merlin is callously indifferent to this declaration of loyalty and love. On Guendolena enquiring if she should remain a widow or marry again, Merlin gives his permission for her to be wed. This apparently selfless gesture is tainted by Merlin’s warning that if he encounters the bridegroom before the wedding, death will be his lot. In the tale Merlin then assures Guendolena that he will attend the nuptials and bestow great gifts upon her. We are not entirely convinced by these sentiments. A sinister air hangs upon his words, and we are right to be wary.
Merlin duly appears at the wedding ceremony riding upon a stag. A procession of these animals as well as goats wind along behind him. On his arrival at the castle, a man laughs at him from a high window. Merlin, recognising the future husband of Guendolena, kills him with great violence. Merlin flees towards the haven of the woods, but the river prevents his escape and he falls into the water. The juxtaposition of the stag as the symbol of fire energy and the water energy of the river is significant. The glyph of fire is a triangle, that of water the triangle inverted. Put together they form the Seal of Solomon, otherwise known as the Star of David. This powerful magickal symbol implies completion and a state of rest. It also bestows protection upon the wearer. It is as if Merlin has reached yet another stage of initiation and waits for its culmination. He is still prey to the wildest of emotions—the rage of the beast—but this will prove a turning point in the saga.
But, what are we to make of this strange and tragic tale? The way in which it is told by Geoffrey of Monmouth implies that any literal interpretation will miss the point of the story. Only by examining the inherent symbolism in the account can we make any sense of it all. Certainly, the sexual overtones are apparent. Guendolena desires Merlin and is prepared to suffer hardship to be with him, but Merlin rejects her. Why? The answer may be in the role that his sister Ganieda plays in the drama. She has assumed a more significant role in her brother’s life, essentially because it is not sexual. Merlin considers himself to be beyond the physical plane and that must preclude any intimacy, particularly with a sensual flower maiden. He is now free to enter the final stage of his magickal life and become the seer, embracing wisdom and solitude in equal measure.
If we accept the allegorical nature of the tale, then we must accept that ‘the planes are separate’ and always must remain so. What Merlin achieves on the Inner Planes cannot be confounded with his behaviour on the earthly plane. Those who condemn Aleister Crowley for his many vices make this error. One can easily say he was a good magician and a bad man, but with reference to magick it is a meaningless statement. Magick cannot be expected to support any moral stance; that is not its nature or purpose. Whether Crowley was a sexual pervert or a heroin addict makes not the slightest difference to his persona on the Inner Planes.
Too often does society make arbitrary judgments of those who flout its often equally arbitrary conventions. Merlin was incarnated at the moment when he would be most instrumental in shaping the Divine Will. It may be that his being a magician aids him in paying off any karmic debts that have accumulated in his previous lives. If he is a transmitter of Divine Light, the magician might be regarded as being exempt from any earthly transgressions. It is a fascinating philosophical conundrum.