26 April 2025
Waking up to the breathtaking view of the distant Himalayas, sipping hot chai in the crisp mountain air — I could never grow tired of this. I hadn’t explored much since we arrived, and I knew there wouldn’t be time, but I could easily see why people choose to live here. Life moved slowly, gently. The ancient mountains wrapped around the village like guardians. It was all so simple, so still, so soul-soothing.
Getting to know Zenon has been one of the most unusual and fascinating journeys I’ve ever taken. I’ve never met anyone like him. Yes, he’s an old man — sensitive, slowing down in some ways — but he is also something else entirely. Decades of walking between worlds, spending more time in the spirit realm than in the physical, have altered him on every level.
He’s still human — but not like any human I’ve ever known.
In the mornings, his entire being is wide open — every cell lit up, every sense tuned to frequencies beyond the veil. Sound, movement, light — everything is amplified. His nervous system is incredibly sensitive. It’s been a true lesson in patience for me: no talking, no movement, just silence, while he grounds back into his body after returning from the dreamworld.
Then, only then, we begin. Camera ready. Stories start to spill — but questions are still not welcome. Even later in the day, when he’s more settled, he rarely answers them. I had hoped that today, once we “built our mystery school,” he might finally open up and share some of the sacred knowledge locked away in his books.
After a late breakfast, we set off toward the museum. Zen speaks with deep reverence about Nicholas and Helena Roerich, and I could tell how important this visit was to him. The walk was short, the path lined with lush greenery. We arrived to quiet, beautiful gardens and wandered over to the “center stone.” I’m not sure yet of its significance, but it radiated a deep sacredness. We knew instantly: this was our classroom.
I opened the space in ceremony — calling in our guides, the ancients, the elements, and speaking in light language to establish the energy of our ‘virtual school.’ I introduced our project to the camera. Zen came alive. I could feel Merlin again. At moments, he would touch on a subject so rich, so astonishing, I would nearly leap with excitement — only for him to veer away again without elaborating.
It became a little frustrating.
Was he forgetting what we were meant to discuss? Or was I just being impatient? Perhaps… this wasn’t about capturing the treasure. Perhaps I wasn’t meant to receive the teachings just yet. I had to remind myself: my role here might not be about the recording. Maybe this journey is about being. Holding space. Witnessing. Loving unconditionally. Allowing a soul family elder to be seen, truly seen, for all that he is.
After some time, thunderclouds rolled in and chased us home for a brief rest. Later, we returned to a different part of the museum grounds for another round of filming. By now, Zen had drifted into more personal tales from his past. I was growing tired — this whole experience had been energetically intense.
As the sky darkened, we packed up. Zen lit up with excitement — he wanted to take me out for a pre-birthday dinner at a local castle. I was touched. He really is a sweet man, and I could only imagine how much loneliness he must have carried in this lifetime, being so unique and profoundly different.
The castle restaurant was perched with another stunning view of the snow-kissed peaks. We sat with noodles and chai, sharing stories. Merlin had receded for the night, and Zenon, the man, emerged. As he spoke of his younger years, I caught a glimpse of the charming boy he once was — vibrant, intelligent, mischievous. A few of his tales made me laugh out loud. Eccentric as he may be, beneath all the layers, he is still a curious, brilliant human — a soul who once made many young women swoon… and who still has that spark.
