Arthur of Avalon
A Legendary Tale of King Arthur
by
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With the branches on either side cut flush to the trunk, two tall pine trees framed a clearing in the woods. When he walked through the natural entranceway he could hear laughter…children’s laughter. As he looked in their direction, they appeared at first glance to be children that played around an extremely large mass of stone or rock. But as Arthur drew closer these children were adult in size, yet perpetually youthful.
They sensed his presence and all eyes turned to Arthur. Unafraid, their eyes were intense and bright. The eyes of ageless children before the adult world took over. Arthur looked into their eyes that sparkled as they took his hands in theirs and guided him towards the reddish brown rock. Arthur felt connected to his innocence, to his sense of wonder.
After he stood before the rock, Arthur contemplated the concentric circles and spiral markings on its surface.
“They recreate its journey in the physical world,” spoke a small voice from behind Arthur.
Arthur turned and asked, “Where did it come from? How did it get here?”
“With a clap of thunder and a burst of light!” Another voice responded. He then traced the circles and spirals with his finger and spiraled Arthur’s attention upward to the heavens.
“A falling star, a meteorite of iron,” another small voice explained, “from which the sword Excalibur was forged.”
“Heavenly sent,” mused another, “like the snow.”
They were a spirited group and he was pleased to be in their company. A light fluffy snow began to fall and this seemed to excite them even more... a child’s expectation of Christmas... an invitation of things to come.
“Who made Excalibur?” Arthur asked.
“Why the Swordsman, of course.” Perceiving Arthur’s desire to know more they motioned for him to follow. “The warmth of the Swordsman’s fire will feel good.”
They guided Arthur toward the Swordsman’s stone cottage where small clouds of smoke burst from the chimney. As he pulled down on a rope with his right hand and pumped another lever with his right foot, a bare-chested man drew in air to fill up his huge lungs and then blew on the hot coals like a bellows. Then Arthur watched with the others as a sword-length piece of metal was pulled from the fire and placed on an anvil. “Better stand back, ‘cause the sparks are really gonna fly,” said the Swordsman.
He hammered the metal on one side, turned it over and continued to pound. When he was through the sword sizzled as he let it slide into a tub of water. He turned and looked to his audience with their same sparkling intensity. “Gonna make somethin’ out of somethin’.” He let out a hearty laugh that caused his audience to smile and laugh too.
Arthur stepped forward from the small crowd and reached out his hand in gratitude to the Swordsman, to the one who had made Excalibur.
“And who might you be?” the Swordsman asked.
“Arthur... King Arthur... of England.” At the mention of his name they all dropped to their right knee except the Swordsman.
“Please... please rise,” an embarrassed Arthur insisted to those gathered around. “I’ve only come to meet the man who made Excalibur.” Clasping each other’s wrists in greeting, Arthur’s fingers curled around the sweating wrist of the man who had forged the magnificent sword.
“She had a strength like no other sword. A very special sword indeed.” The Swordsman’s eyes grew bright.
“From what did Excalibur derive its unique power?” Arthur asked.
“The material from which it was made,” the Swordsman began to explain. “The meteorite at the entrance to the village. The intense heat generated on its fall to earth caused carbon to be absorbed into the iron at a higher temperature than could ever be produced by these bellows.” The Swordsman slapped at his bulging stomach and then quickly clapped his hands together. “Slam! Bang! It hit the earth. Buried in the dirt, the iron melted into the ground. Later, I dug it out, heated it, and pounded it into shape. Then I cooled her in some water. Then I did the same thing all over again. Each time I did that, the sword grew stronger. I then polished the blade to a mirror finish. Had to remove those thumbprint-like markings in the raw iron.” He winked and playfully added, “Don’t want them to think someone else had a hand in the makin’.”
“But Excalibur seemed... enchanted,” mused Arthur.
“It was created for a higher purpose with an intense desire. Thought energy gathered, concentrated, and then used in the direction of the idea in mind, in the here and now, with the matter-in-hand.” The Swordsman looked Arthur squarely in the eye. “Got to learn to get rid of those thoughts and actions which keeps us from stickin’ to our why and wherefore.”
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About the Book
Told and re-told throughout the centuries, King Arthur's Court and the days of Camelot still exist in the imaginations of children and adults. I have begun where others have ended. From the scene of the his final battle, Arthur is taken by barge to Avalon to heal his wounds. In Avalon Arthur becomes aware of the forces that made him King and receives words of enlightenment that will guide his self-discovery.
As the mysteries of Avalon unfold, the Swordsman who made Excalibur with his "head, heart, and hands" sends Arthur deeper into the woods to be alone with nature. There in a dream he sees his departed teacher Merlin and realizes that "Merlin and Camelot could exist again in his mind and in his soul, safe within a dream, always there to bring forward whenever he chose." Before Arthur leaves the forest he becomes aware of the ten life stages of man and the truth that has always been available to those who search for it.
"The common folk, as legend had it, believed King Arthur would return again and some say he was sleeping in the Isle of Avalon. He was not asleep, however, but awakening to his true self. He was who he always wanted to be…Arthur…Arthur of Avalon.
About the Author
Gary Carlson's early education began in Dixon,Illinois and the nearby farms and woods along the Rock River before moving on to graduate from Southern Illinois University and The Pennsylvania State University majoring in theatre and communications.
After working as an actor and teacher, Mr.Carlson began developing a journal of stories woven from travels real and imaginary and directed toward our higher selves, our own personal renaissance. If he had not lived it he would not have known it and his personal journey serves as a daily reminder of his own growth, his own lessons to learn.