Lightwarrior

by

Kringlans Kalender 2019 / Meru’s Wisdom, Dec 11th

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She rolled over on her side. Noticed the morning star making its way upward through the clouds of her outbreath, the sound of the waves swaying against the rocks mixing with the melody of the singing ice further up.

Meru lay close to her head, curled up with his large snout tucked in between some driftwood and moss.

Dawn got up, made her way quietly over to Meru, buried her nose in the wolf’s neck, let his fur tickle and tingle her face, inhaled and exhaled the warmth of his being – the scent of the forest, the streams, the mountains, the plains, the wild soul, the entire wilderness. Sometimes she felt so much more like a wolf herself than a human. There was a peace in being part of this wilderness which was impossible to describe.

She had always been a joyous child. Even though she never ever felt like there was a solid base of anything or anyone holding her, she’d always felt a net of connectedness somehow. Through places and people, songs, stories, words, movement, magic.

Out here in the wilderness all that came together as one. Out here in the wilderness she felt held more than ever. The connectedness was the base out here, there was no difference. The moss was her mother just as much as it was her father and her siblings, just like the wolf was, the mountains, the sky, the trees and everything was.

Out here she was becoming aware of her own inner wilderness. The wilderness which needed the waters to flow un-obtruded by dams and myths. The wilderness where the mountains talked to the stars. The wilderness where she danced with the winds, sang with the wolves, fished with the bears, reflected herself in the light of the moon. Where she just Was.

Meru rolled around, stretched, yawning himself awake and aware.

“You know what Dawn,” he morning- growled out. “You humans love to give each other a whole range of names, reminding you of your family, your lineage and all that. You actually have three.”

“Three?”, she sat up, looked the grey wolf straight in to his eyes.

“Yes, my child. Dawn. Faith. MorningStar.”

“Dawn Faith MorningStar….”, she repeated.

“And I have added “Of The Paws””, Meru smiled.

 

 

Cecilia Götherström, Dec 11th 2019

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Kringlans Kalender 2019 / Meru’s Wisdom, Dec 10th

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 ”Stop, stop, stooooop! Aouch! This caftan is about to rip to pieces if you don’t stop!”

Wizards body had started convulsing in a strange way first. Star knew that if she were to stop shaking the large wand right now she would hurt him more than if she continued.

His whole face had started turning a very deep shade of blue. She had to get him back to the silvery white shade. She kept on rattling, growling, only listening to the ssssing of the aurora borealis and nothing else.

Boom! Thug! Patsch!

Wizard was lifted up in the air. Vertical. Twisting, turning, swaying for a while. Slowly floating just above the treetops.

Star put the wand, now forever marked by her fangs, down. She looked up. The Milky Way seemed to move. She gently howled as if she was whispering, scanning the morning sky with her eyes. The shimmery movement came closer, the shape of a white dragon taking form as it breathed a cloud of softness underneath the feet of Wizard, allowing him to gently descend, feet landing on the pebble beach.

”What is this?” he shook his head, tousled hair flaying in the wind, beard moving along. ”What is going on? Why are you jerking me out of a very important interdimensional job?”

”Because your even more important interdimensional task is right here. In this valley. At this water. With all of us. Pinecones and Moonstones, remember?”

”Pincecones and Moonstones? Already ? I mean, we have waited many different time measurements for this. I just hoped it would not be yet.”

Wizard looked Star directly in the eyes, waved to the dragon who  had just landed on the island just at the outlet of the fjord. ”And pinecones and moonstones are just the beginning….”

Star shifted forwards, gently put her nose in his palm, her way of giving a cuddle.

”Wolves and Wizards always meet at the dawn, the old legends sing my old friend. This time Wolves and Wizards will meet with Dawn”.

Cecilia Götherström, Dec 10th 2019

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Kringlans Kalender – Meru’s Wisdom, dec 9th

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Dawn sat down to rest on a piece of cleared rock at the frozen brook. They had followed the river upstream, high up . Left the banks where the wide open ocean met the waterway. Left ”the place where the meandering whirlwinds melt worlds together” as the alves called it in their carols.

They had gathered plenty of pinceones, Meru and herself. Moonstones, not so many. She’d found two large ones, the size of Meru’s back paw prints, in the shallow waters where the treeline met the snowy fields, close to where the stream was born.

”How on Earth are we going to find enough moonstones to build this Medicine Wheel, Meru?”

”Moonstones my dear are basically stones which speak in the moonlight. The two we have gathered already are the two poles, the Fire and Ice, connecting the remaining ones we shall find the coming three days on our way to the Full Moon.”

”Isn’t that the day we need to hold our ceremony? Is it only three days away?” She couldn’t help feeling a bit itchy from the anticipation.

”At the dawn of the full moon we gather. I have a feeling Craft has found Red already”, Meru replied. ”Which is a totally new phenomenon I must say. Way has always been the last knot, the one who seals. Yet now it seems we all need to connect in to Star, including Craft and Way as one force. Star is calling out to us all to share our power cries , assisting her in waking up the magic to this world. Whatever she means with ”this world”…”

Grandfather had once told Dawn that the reason she got her tribe name was so that she could be reborn every morning with the golden light of the sun reflecting the silvery wisdom in the glow of the moon. How could she had forgotten about that? And why did that memory come back and visit her this very moment?

”Everything is possible in the dark of the morning. Sensing, feeling, knowing, choosing, creating.” Grandfather had said.

”Meru, I think you will have to start to sing in the soul of Star. It feels like that is the only way we can find her before Full Moon. We just had Sleeping Moon which means the power of this Full Moon to come is as strong as the force of that comet we saw from up here, the one which crashed at the oceans edge”.

”Which comet my dear Dawn? That was Star.”

The whole upper plane of the mountains started echoing as Meru lifted his whole being in his howl, tying in to the soul of not just Star but of Craft, Red, Dawn.

 

Cecilia Götherström, Dec 9th 2019

 

 

 

by

Kringlans Kalender / Meru’s Wisdom, Dec 8th

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The lights were mesmerizing. So magically, carefully placed. Almost choreographed.

How could they have forgotten?

She moved like a mischievous fox at times, Red.

Easy to camouflage yourself as what humans considered harmless. Fantastically difficult to understand why, once she stepped out of her foxiness – which she rarely did this close to the village – to engulf her wolfness in all its reddish glow, the people of the valley started shaking, closing their doors fast. Just as heavily as they had slammed their hearts shut to the awestrikingness of Nature ages ago.

” I am Light”, Red spoke out loud. Howling she continued ”Why can’t you see the light in me , humans?”

”Because they can’t see the light in themselves and only light can mirror light.”

Was it the sparkle-adorned tree she was admiring who just spoke? No, her heart had heard his vibrations days ago already. Now her paws felt them .

Craft could not believe he’d found Red before he found Star. Or even before he found Meru and his companion. So, the game was changing already.

”But if they see the light in me, that can spark their own light so bright there is no way there can not be light.”

”The darkenss is so dark right now in their chambers, Way. The moonstones will light the way. We just have to gather first.”

Craft had called her by her tribe name. Way. Red had not heard her tribe name spoken in eons. She knew auspicious times were ahead. Now it was  tangible that they were smack in the middle of those times already.

”Craft?”

”Yes, my lovely.”

”Let’s just sit here with this tree for a while. I want to understand the need to light up and adorn what is already perfect and lit up by its soul already. I want to understand that blindness of inner the eyes”.

The two wolves burrowed down in the snow there on the hill. Connecting to the stars above. Listening to the glowing fire underneath the chimneys. Breathing in the crystal snow. Being.

 

Cecilia Götherström, Dec 8th 2019

 

 

 

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Kringlans Kalender / Meru’s Wisdom, Dec 7th

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“Mera Man Lochai gur darshan taa-ee”

The fragile tunes of the mantra weaved through his dreams, like ornaments of stardust. He was floating, soaring, above a room. Everyone present dressed in white. White roses, dark green leaves, adorning a white coffin. A funeral.

His own?

He heard himself thinking “That’s a beautiful tune for the beginning of the ceremony”.

The whole place filled with people seemingly angelic in presence. What was going on here?

“Bilap karay chaatrik kee ni-aa-ee”

“I miss you Beloved”, he sensed himself thinking in this dreamlike state. Then he seemed to fade away in to the starlight.

A comet across the morning sky. It appears to land further down the pebble beach. He is drifting in and out of different dream states, not sure of what is real.

The comet had indeed landed. It was however not a comet.

Star felt the slippery, icy, black pebbles underneath her paw pads. She turned her nose in all directions, greeting each cardinal direction with its own symbol, followed by its own growl.

Then she sensed him. Further up the rim of the water she could discern something moving up and down, the rhythm of a breath. Smoke from every exhalation pouring out over the almost frozen sea. The bundle whom lay there breathing was out of tune. She could feel that clearly. Next to it rested layers of moss.

Wizard!

Thank heavens she had found him before anyone else did! Had the moon been up he’d been taken away by the veils hours ago. With Sleeping Moon he’d been left in peace.

Why did watching him sleep make her think of an ancient funeral pyre?

The old had to be revered, reviewed, ceremonial movements honouring it. It had to be dressed in white, taken down to the river leading out into the endless ocean, sent off into the void, fire lit.

That is what was going on. The old wizard was transmuting the whole thing, the whole legend, in his sleep. Did he ever not work?

There. Morning Star was rising. Moon was coming back up through the horizon.

Star was standing next to him now. Breathing on his cold feet to wake him up gently. When proved fruitless she dug her large fangs into the pile of moss, gripping the staff with her jaws, shaking it to shake him awake.

 

Mera Man Lochai

 

Cecilia Götherström, Dec 7th 2019

 

by

Kringlans Kalender 2019 / Meru’s Wisdom, Dec 6th

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“Pinecones and moonstones, pinecones and moonstones, pinecones and moonstones….”

The words rung like a mantra in her head. Or were they flying in from the multitude of birds busy collecting the last twigs, berries and seeds before the sheet of snow covered all the goodies?

”Pinecones and moonstones?”

In her dreams last nights he had been visited by a white reindeer, carrying what the reindeer herself called ”the message of oneness”.

”See the whole Universe in a stone”, she’d said.

As they had been sitting there together in her dream, watching the Aurora Borealis swirling across the sky, it was pretty easy to picture how to  ”see the whole Universe in a stone”. The Aurora looked like crystals, the sky was covered with crystal-shimmering stars, their breath turned to crystals there in the cold night, they held crystals in their hearts – heck, they actually were crystals come to think of it!

”And not only crystals are stones. All stones are stones, ” Elo the reindeer had blinked through her large eyes filled with the glow of planets towards her.

 

”Pinecones and moonstones? Of course, moonstones are stones. But the pinecones?”, she was wondering there in her waking state.

”Pinecones are the eternal signs of gratitude, the portals to the larger universes, to the wideness where the void speaks and the darkness sings”, she heard his voice tell.  Meru was of course in her mind, like she was so often invited in to his but not yet always awake enough to notice.

”OK”, she said. ”Now what?”

”We will go out and collect moonstones and pinecones,  build our own Medicine Wheel with them.” He stretched, ready to get up and go. ”For each pinecone, one moonstone”.

”How on earth will I find that many moonstones?”, she muttered to herself quietly. ”I mean pinecones are everywhere, but moonstones….”

”Ain’t that interesting Little One?” Meru mused. ” ”Pinecones are everywhere”. That means the whole ground, the whole forest is scattered with gratitude. What do you think happens when we pick that gratitude up, hold it, connect with it? I think moonstones will follow!”

She realized she understood his point but not really what it meant nor why they needed to build a Medicine Wheel. She also knew that asking would lead nowhere. The instruction was clear – pick up the pinecones,  a.k.a. the gratitude,  and the moonstones would follow a.k.a. the what-ever-they-were-she-would-find-out.

 

– Cecilia Götherström, Dec 6th 2019

 

 

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Kringlans Kalender 2019 / Meru’s Wisdom, Dec 5th

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His shrivelling hands reached up to the skies. The nine falling stars met the node of his staff. A flash of lightning, a scream of connection, the wind ceased blowing and the earth whispered for a little while.

The wizard stepped down from his stone. Tired. Weary. He should be happy. Should be fulfilled. He was too tired to feel anything. He needed to lie down.

Crawling,  his hands searched for  the softest stones on the pebble beach. The waves were gently caressing the rocks. No tide tonight, just the movement of a silently dancing starfish and dolphins.

His hands found a spot of stones carefully polished by eons of ice and water. Here he would rest. Here he would regain himself.

He laid down, placing the staff beside him, covering it with the grey cloth and moss he carried in his pouch. He leaned in to the stone covered earth. Closed his eyes. Sssshhhhhhh…..

New stories would be written. Covering up what was between the old stories and the now. But who would write them? He was worried. Sssshhhhh….

The mist of sleep fell over him. Lulling him in to the space in between the veils. No moon tonight. What was to come?

– Cecilia Götherström, Dec 5th 2019

 

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Kringlans Kalender 2019 / Meru’s Wisdom, Dec 4th

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“Thrssss, thrsss, thrsss”.

The sound echoed over the white covered earth. Up above the mountain, in the starlit sky, a white dragon was painting the rune Thurisaz with her breath.

“Thrssss, thrsss, thrsss”.

Paws breaking through the crusty surface. Yellow eyes. Fur dark as the night sky.

Craft moved through the night like he always did. Owning it. Nobody noticing him. Ever. Considering his gigantic stature and enormous energy field it was surprising. But not to him. The humans living in this valley, on these mountains, closed down when they sensed a force so strong, so transformative that anything was possible. Limitlessness was not something they felt comfortable with, not something they’d been raised to understand.

“Thrssss, thrsss, thrsss”.

The aurora borealis in the sky, the elements, the grass, the woods, the stream, the lake, the mountains, they all walked with him. In ancient tales bards had sung his praise, many Völvas had told his story.

Craft was everywhere. Always. Just like Star. Just like Meru.

He cut short right in the middle of the large open field, right on top of the snowcovered lake at its centre.

He could sense her approaching. Slowly.

Star.

Somewhere between the clouds in his memory he could feel the two of them calling in Meru too. Without Grey,  Meru, no point. Whether they would find Red or not was up to how the three of them got together.

Meru had a companion though. That was the cloudy feeling. Craft could not really make sense of the energy until he realized it was human. A human in the mind of the wolves ? Like almost fully inhabiting it?  Well, that was about time. Time to let the human heart in.

”This could be a game changer”, Craft said out loud to himself. ”We shall see…”

 

– Cecilia Götherström, 4 December 2019

 

 

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MidWinter

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Candlelight, chestnuts and pinecones

Christmastree,
it is just you and me

Comfort, life, breath
Pineneedles, light, sacredness

I stop,
I forget
in a way which makes me re-member

you came from a slope,
which was once me,
specks of atoms, of dust
you grew out of snow
I was

yesterday,
today,
tomorrow,
now

It all just is.
We all just are.

Christmastree,
you and me
are just dreams of traditions,
of what is and what is to come
Nothing more.
Nothing less.

You in my livingroom,
I in your forest.

It all blends,
in this moment
tomorrow
now
then
there
when
who cares?

Let us sing,
let us be the charol.

Have you not always dreamed,
like me,
to be carried out on a chord,
to slide down a tune
echoing in to the wilderness
with nothing to stop you
sounding

Who cares?
What cares?

Let us sing with the stars,
soak the light in to our hearts
Like the candles on your branches,
let us shine through the night

Midvinterblot,
I hail thee

My roots are deeper than the mountain
My home is stronger than my heart
My soul echoes through eons

Take my hand,
carry me away

While remaining here,
watching,
re-membering
taking in your light
Oh Christmastree, oh Christmastree
of Odins heart so strong

Hel.
Whole.
Hel.
Helig.
Holy

Oh , holy night.

Åh, helga natt.

Home.

– Cecilia Götherström, Dec 10th 2018

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Dec 21st, The Promise, Part 21

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“Tipp tapp, tipp tapp, tippetippetipptap, tipp, tipp, tapp.”

Fox came tiptoeing across the gold and silver studded frozen crust, there in the opening where the mountain was sloping downwards. Or climbing upwards – depending on how you see it, where you are coming from , where you are heading.
She burrowed her gentle white-orange head into my flank.

“Love, love, love. I am always where you are. No need to search for me, just listen with tender ears and you will hear me walking in your heart of hearts.”

“Aaaave Mariiia…”

Crisp hymn, being spun out of the silvery fullmoon-sky, spreading like warmhearted mist across the heavens, in between the pines, filling the space around us.

All were gathered. Folks & peoples, tribes & clans, beings & spirits, four-leggeds, winged ones, two leggeds and down at the lake swimming ones. From all dimensions, all times, all stories, all songs, all traditions. As if we were surfing on a wave of blessings, yet we all were still.

The full moon moved closer. How was that possible?

Drumming.

The nine women walked out in the centre of the crowd, drumming, their moonstone and granite adorned belts making connection with the light of the moon, with the soul of the granite cliffs.

The song pf the trees spreading upwards, outwards as the whole forest keyed in.

Home. Home. Home.

Us. Right here. Right now.

The heart-diamond seemed to explode inside my chest. I tossed my head back, let the first unruly howl out from so many more insides than just the one in this body, from so many centuries, eons, lifetimes.

As we all harmonized I could tell this was not just our song. This was the song. The birth. The letting go. The honouring. The becoming through being.

I looked around me.

White, beautiful, beautiful White. Ever wise, ever loving, ever there, ever stubborn, ever true to herself.

Fox. My HeartFox. Gentle, sturdy, determined. Loyal to love, joy and what she cherishes above nothing else.

Raven, dear Raven. No one makes coffee like Raven. No one calls in Odin and White Wizard like Raven. No one has a sense humour like Raven.

Jake. Always there. Never forgotten, never forgetting. Not needing a task or a template. Happy with being the company, the glue.

Wizard. White Wizard. My dear companion, protection, and witty elder.

Melvinia. Me. I am there. She with the ornamented shield. She who walks with wolves at night. With my clan.

The moon greets us all. We greet her. The silver and gold mist parts by her glow. There, in the mirror of dear Moon, the reflection of Us. All.

The reflection of New Earth.

Thank you.

– Cecilia Götherström, dec 21st 2018

 

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