Please listen to the Above Audio first .
Being a police officer in the tranquil expanse of Powys, mid-Wales, can carry a quiet weight. Crimes in places of serene beauty, like the rolling hills of Bannau Brycheiniog, strike with a peculiar sting. Finding a refuge where the world’s burdens dissolve into the wild is vital—for me, that refuge is Maen Llia.
Tucked amidst the windswept uplands, halfway between the hamlets of Heol Senni and Ystradfellte, stands Maen Llia—a solitary standing stone, 12 feet tall, etched by millennia yet unyielding. In a landscape that feels like the edge of eternity, this Bronze Age monolith radiates a timeless majesty. I fell in love with it—yes, I’m smitten with a stone—years ago, during a call to investigate a thoughtless act of vandalism. Someone had marred its ancient face with a spray-painted smiley face, a wound that felt raw. Though the culprit eluded me, Maen Llia unveiled itself as a sanctuary, a place to sit in awe, enveloped by the silence of centuries and the whispers of the ancients.
Maen Llia is more than stone; it’s a portal to perspective. Standing before it on a sun-dappled day, you feel the tide of time wash over you, stirring questions that echo across ages: *Who raised this? Why here? How does it hold such power? Its presence humbles, reminding you of your impermanence in a world far older and grander than any one soul. Yet, this realisation isn’t daunting—it’s liberating, grounding, empowering. Maen Llia has this gift in abundance.
Recently, I’ve wandered among other ancient wonders—Stanton Drew near Bristol, the Rollright Stones in Oxfordshire, each documented in my Substack chronicles. But Maen Llia remains my heart’s compass. An attempted visit in February was thwarted by relentless rain and a river that claimed my car’s number plate in its swollen rush. Yet, last weekend, the skies parted. I stood before the stone on a serene, sunlit day, the air thick with a silence that humbles the noise of modern life. No soul stirred nearby, just me and Maen Llia, its quiet presence a balm for the spirit.
From the A4059, the stone appears in the distance, a sentinel awaiting pilgrims. A short hop over a wooden stile brings you face-to-face with its weathered grandeur. Legends swirl around it—tales of shadowless noons, of the stone wandering to drink from a nearby stream. These stories, vivid and magical, amplify its mystique. I shared some in the above audio, but words pale beside the experience of standing there, feeling the ancients’ wisdom seep into your bones.
Maen Llia is a love letter from a lost age, a reminder that our forebears knew how to weave magic into the world. They crafted places that make you feel small yet boundless, fleeting yet eternal. They understood how to stir both awe and longing. This stone, raised for reasons we may never grasp, stands as a testament to that wisdom.
If you seek a place to touch the soul of the earth, visit Maen Llia. Let it work its quiet alchemy, as it has on me, rekindling peace and purpose. I’ll return soon, sooner than before, and perhaps our paths will cross in its shadow. Until then, tread lightly and leave no mark but wonder.
Owen x
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