Pondering: inspired by a Sorceress

Welcome back. As this ‘story’ moves forward be aware that two clues are embedded that will allow you to ‘see’ the world around you with a heightened awareness that will surprise you. Look out for them. I shall explain before the end.

The picture heading E1 will have given a clue as to where this is going.

King Arthur. Welsh: Brenin Arthur, Cornish: Arthur Gernow, Breton: Roue Arzhur. This mysterious person is said to have lived late 5th, early 6th Century in England (which was not known as England at the time but more commonly as Britain – with Roman origins). Arthur is generally portrayed as a warrior (King?) who fought against the Angle, Saxon, and Jute invaders of the time. From the latter comes the name England, Angland, land of the Angles. His fight with them was ultimately a lost cause. They filled the void left by the departure of the Romans, in the southern half of Britain, becoming what we now know as the Anglo-Saxons. Leaving the northern half to the Vikings (which became known in our history as Danelaw).

I doubt that as much has been written about anybody else whose existence and story remains in doubt or, at least, unconfirmed in any academically sound way. The writings are in numerous languages and spread over hundreds of years. Exemplified by the Matter of Britain, and Geoffrey of Monmouth’s 12th Century Historia Regum Brittanniae. Or maybe Thomas Malory and his Morte d’Arthur. Tennyson in the 1800s? The sceptic might say there is never smoke without fire…. Modern historians such as Higham and Shippey consider Arthur to be ‘unhistorical’, whatever that might mean. I do not put huge faith in most historians, one way or the other.

The times of his supposed existence are known in contemporary mainline history as the ‘dark ages’, when written records of any description were scarce, not helpful for an ‘investigative’ historian. Undaunted by such obstacles I intend to make contact with Arthur, that is the REAL Arthur, in some form or another. Not to resolve some of the mystery, but purely for creative whimsy. But he is ‘dead’ you say. This has not stopped me in the past.

It took some effort, a sustained level of concentration I had never before achieved but initial contact was made, after a fashion. Boudica was easier, but then I had some alien assistance with her. This time I was alone. What was ‘seen’ or more aptly, felt, by me was akin to driving through thick fog at night. Ghostly, misty shapes that come and go. It reminded me of a description I once wrote of the American astronaut, Neil Armstrong:

Neil Armstrong became the epitome of the American space programme.?There were those who said that trying to describe Neil Armstrong was like driving at night through mist, there are outlines and hints of something solid behind it, but any light you throw at him comes straight back at you until, in the end, you see just what you imagine you see – the reflected glare of your own expectations.?The fact was that before Neil went to the Moon he was a most atypical person and certainly nothing like any of his astronaut colleagues.?But when he returned he ended up behaving like a person who knew something everybody else did not.?By rights he should have been dead much sooner, as he had miraculously survived many accidents and near misses.?Providence or talent?

Yes, it was a little like that but I persevered. Slowly, after repeated attempts, mind over matter, the hints of something (more) solid became briefly, tantalisingly more tangible before fading. I was frustrated and fatigued from the effort that I was unable to keep up. Try again another time. Maybe Arthur, or what is left of him, does not want to be disturbed, does not want this contact. I tried several times with little or no change but I can be quite persistent in my quests. I knew it was a question of finding the correct way in. Back to the serious business of cogitating, which is a more intense form of pondering. There has to be a way through the fog.

If, like me, you drift through life in a daze, constantly failing to grasp the point of it all, if, indeed, there is any. Take heed. One day, when I was not doing anything in particular, pondering* actually, totally disengaged from the quest, a feeling came to me from somewhere. A gentle probing of some part of my being. Easy to miss but I caught it. A faint voice in my head, ‘You know me.’ Three words….

* If you have never tried pondering, now is possibly a good time to start.