To set the game table correctly, I’ll start by telling you that there was more than one Merlin. The two that come to mind are Merlinus Caledonicus & Merlinus Ambrosius, two entirely different creatures in myth and folklore. There may have been dozens more, with “Merlin” being more of a job title than a name. I like to believe I was one of them in a previous life, probably one of the more low-rent iterations like Merlinus Walmarticus.
As it is, Merlin wasn’t even the original term. The Welsh called them Myrddhin. When the French balladeers took over the Arthurian legends, they saw the name was dangerously close to the French word for feces: “merde”. Wishing to separate mythology from scatology, Merlin was renamed.
The Merlin of Vita Merlini is yet another animal with little connection to the Arthur mythos. He was a prince embroiled in a bloody battle between three kings. In the aftermath, he found three brothers, relatives of his, were tragically slain. Grief overwhelmed him and he ran mad into the woods.
He was eventually found after some time living under an apple tree in the company of a pig. The pig hangs on in later retellings in his nickname for young Arthur: “Wart” meaning “piglet”. His wife and loved ones brought him back to the court of King Rhydderch. Things started off rough for the mad wizard of the wood. He murdered his wife’s new husband by ripping the horns off the stag he rode and throwing them at the man.
This is something you will not see in the children’s cartoon version of the stories.
Eventually, he comes into the king’s good graces by proving his gifts of prophecy and clairvoyance, even though one of his visions was of the queen’s illicit affair. Merlin is taken to a sacred spring, where he drinks and his reason is restored. The story ends with him retiring to the woods with two other wise men. Knowing how people truly are, this might be the wisest course.
Many of us have been running mad the last few years. Grief and fear and just common sense keep us safely away from each other. Sacred springs, perhaps laced with lithium ions, are far and few between. The sensible option is to hug your piglet, settle down beneath a shady tree. and await the right moment for rescue.
Madness isn’t a curse or a shameful thing. Sometimes, it is like a sprain, a swelling that restrains the mind from wild and damaging movements until it is healed. It is a pain, but one that can be teased away from the willing mind bit by bit. It is a common human malady, no different than a cancer or a broken limb.
On this Spring Equinox, I posit that the world is running mad from grief and piglets are in short supply. Take what comfort where you can.
Weirdmaste