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A visit with the Wizard Myrddin....

1/25/2015

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by Gwendolyn M Plano
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I am a member of the Rave Reviews Book Club, a virtual book club made up of more than 600 authors and readers. Through social media, we share our books, our musings, and our insights. Most of us have never met, but we know each other through the written word. Today I am pleased to introduce you to one of the authors in this club--Robin Chambers, as he travels on his Blog Tour.

Robin is a prolific writer, a retired educator and an extraordinary individual. 
I am currently reading his first book of the series, A Wizard of Dreams, and though his genre is different from my own, he addresses similar tensions: good and evil, tragedy and blessings, the known and the mysterious. It is an honor for me to introduce my colleague to you.

Please join me in welcoming Robin Chambers as he addresses his character--Myrddin.


Meet my character: the Wizard Myrddin


Myrddin is the Welsh form of Merlin, the wizard who is linked in legend to two kings: Vortigern and Arthur. He is a character that has appeared in a thousand stories, and has had many different names: Yahweh, Allah, Moses, Myrddin, Merlin, Prospero, Obi-Wan, Gandalf, Albus…: the wise old wizard with the long white beard and the magic staff and the mission to right wrongs. 

This abiding character has been around since at least the dawn of the great monotheistic religions. There is the rod and the robe and the beard. "Ego sum alpha et omega; primus et novissimus..."

In the Book of Exodus, his name was Moses. Those were the days of miracle and wonder; God's was a long distance call. Moses' rod turned into a serpent and back again into a rod (these days magicians normally use flags or flowers). He turned water into blood, parted a sea conveniently red, laid claim to plagues of frogs and locusts, and brought commandments carved in stone alone down from a mountain. His was the voice of  God on Earth, he said, in that grim place. Popes had not yet been invented...

I recommend that you read the story: "Merlin the Magician Rescues King Vortigern and Why the Red Dragon Is the Emblem of Wales", by W. Jenkyn Thomas. You'll find interesting and obvious parallels to another story you know well.

Check out artists’ impressions of the character Prospero, from Shakespeare’s The Tempest, on Google Images. You’ll find striking similarities.  For the duration of the play, Prospero lived on an island that was certainly an outpost of Avalon. He had control over the weather. He had a magic spirit - Ariel - who did his bidding. He had books of spells, and was a powerful magician: So of course he had the long hair, and the beard, and the rod…

It was no surprise to find him as Gandalf in The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit, and as Albus Dumbledore in Harry Potter and…, though the rod had shrunk to the modern wizard’s wand.  I had found him some years ago as Obi-Wan Kenobi in Star Wars, where his rod had turned into a light sabre. It was still a rod, of course, but with the inside power out and visible...

But I had no need to think of yet another name for him, even though Myrddin himself suggested that in extreme age he had finally turned into Father Christmas (Book 3, chapter 60), because "Myrddin" was the name he used when he first introduced himself to Gordon (Book 1, chapter 57). I know, because I was there. So "Myrddin" was good enough for me.

Behind all evil lies the lust for power and the willingness to be corrupted by it. Millions have died in battle throughout the centuries, often in one of the many names of God. The main conflict is against such ignorance, and prejudice and abuse of power for personal gain.

After so many manifestations, Myrddin is wearing out. His goal now is to train Gordon to be his heir: in the hope that together they might make the world a better place before he finally dies.

The series title is Myrddin’s Heir. Book 1 – “A Wizard of Dreams” – introduces you to Gordon Bennett – a boy born with special powers and a mission to make the world a better place.  On his eleventh birthday he is transported by the Tara Torque to Avalon, where he first meets the great wizard Merlin.  He also meets King Arthur and his Army of the Slain; but I don’t want to give too much away…

You can find out more about it, and what people think of it, by visiting Facebook or Goodreads or Amazon. My website also has information you might find intriguing: http://www.myrddinsheir.com  

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The Ireland of my dreams...

1/16/2015

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by Gwendolyn M Plano
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For more than a year, my husband and I planned for a trip to Europe. We redeemed our flight miles for tickets; booked B&Bs, studied maps and tour books, and arranged for different activities. We were prepared, we thought.

But then, the week before we boarded our flight to Paris, the unexpected occurred. I had a severe allergic reaction to a chemical in hair dye. We debated about canceling our trip and would have done so, except for the fact that we were traveling with relatives.

The discomfort from this reaction was notable, but after a steroid injection and additional prescription medications, I decided I could manage the pain and constant itch. Unfortunately, my optimism was misguided.

After three days in Paris, where I had barely slept, we flew to Ireland. Another doctor treated me, placing me on even more medications. Within a few days, my burning scalp calmed a bit and the swelling receded. It was then that I realized that I didn’t know what day it was, or what was next on our carefully planned itinerary. My focus had shifted through the ordeal to the present. And, I saw an Ireland I did not expect.

The green fields dotted with sheep and the mountains stretching high were the backdrop to my discovery. I had planned on attending a performance of Irish Step Dance and Irish bagpipes, but such would not be the case. I found a different beauty—in the people we met. They understood, they cared, and they opened my busy heart to their reality.  

One day while walking silently among the ruins of Glendalough, an elderly man surprised me. I had left the tour group which was meandering between one structure and another, to walk among the ancient graves alone. I simply wanted to be with those who had passed before me. I wanted to pray. My intention inadvertently brought me to this gentleman, who stirred me from my reverie.  

“I’ve been watching you,” he said kindly. “Where are you from?”

“The United States,” I responded, wiping tears from my eyes.  

“I thought so,” he said, gazing across the ruins. “It’s beautiful isn’t it…the stones centuries old. I live just down the road and come here every day.”

As he spoke I saw him…saw his heart, softened by years, by struggles, by love. And I became still--just him and me, standing in a graveyard.

The stones worn by time guided my feet through the centuries. But, this gentleman saw me, because I saw him through the history that he loved.

When I think of Ireland, I think of this proud man...and the kind doctor who treated me, the young mother on the bus who helped us find our way, the proprietor at the B&B…and so many others. Strange as it might seem, my discomfort led me to the Ireland of my deepest dreams.

Have you had a similar experience?



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Perfect Love in an imperfect world...

1/2/2015

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by Gwendolyn M Plano
 “The blessing of a new year is the reminder that we can begin again and again- not just in January, but whenever we need to, with each dawn, each breath.” Oriah Mountain Dreamer

When I look back through the pages of 2014, I find myself sighing deeper and deeper, the sorrows kidnapping my breaths. One by one the images confront me: the frightened faces of the young Nigerian schoolgirls, the grieving families of travelers on Malaysia Airlines’ flight MH370 and flight MH17, the tortured bodies of those afflicted with Ebola, the photos of those massacred for believing in a Christian God of love.

In the midst of these sorrows and so many more, my book was published.

It is humbling to see our projects or creations within a larger context. If we can step back from our masterpiece and risk honesty, what will we find? Did our writing or painting or acting or work assist the whole in some way? Is the collective human family enriched because of our ingenuity?

I love the notion that “the blessing of the new year is the reminder that we can begin again and again.” Like you, I have my resolutions. I will eat more vegetables, I will exercise more. And, I will undoubtedly “begin again and again.”

There is one resolution, however, which brings me back to my book. I wrote about the journey of life–through tragedy to joy. And, about midway through my book, I realized that we all share this journey. The details of my life and the details of yours may be different, but who among us is spared heartache? And, don’t we all search for joy?

We know each other through our pain and our common quest for Perfect Love.

My new resolution for 2015 is to embrace this Love in its imperfect human form—those who fill our prisons and those who attend our churches, those who carry guns and those who hold the placards, those who shout “jihad” and those who stand ready to defend. My resolution is to love our broken family, and though I am certain I will have to “begin again and again” every day, I also know that Perfect Love will lead the way.

Who or what is this Perfect Love? The answer can be found in the writings of the mystics and prophets of old, and the stories of those who have glimpsed behind the curtain of life and seen its beauty. But truly, if we quiet our minds and hearts, we know the answer. For, it is this Love that comforts us when we are locked in despair; it is this Love that holds us when no one else is there.

Letting Go into Perfect Love was written for you, but mostly, it was written for me…that I might remember who we are—brothers and sisters of one imperfect family.

May your blessings be abundant during this New Year of 2015!
Often it is the deep longing to reach for the Beloved within and around me that helps me begin again. But sometimes I lose even this, cannot find the end of the thread of that longing that will take me home to the Infinite Love I have tasted in moments of grace. And then I find, to my astonishment, that even this lack, this loss of feeling and faith, when willingly experienced fully, can make me available to the longing that guides me home. is rooted in Love. Often it is the deep longing to reach for the Beloved within and around me that helps me begin again. But sometimes I lose even this, cannot find the end of the thread of that longing that will take me home to the Infinite Love I have tasted in moments of grace. And then I find, to my astonishment, that even this lack, this loss of feeling and faith, when willingly experienced fully, can make me available to the longing that guides me home.

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Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way. ―Viktor E. Frankl, Man’s Search for Meaning


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