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

Winter_Snow_Fir_Night_509182

“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

 

 

Kringlans Kalender 2019/ Meru’s Wisdom, Dec 3rd

Meru

It had been lost for a while. Or at least that is what she thought.

Meru had told her that ”nothing is ever lost, nothing is ever left on the backburner. What is most important always shines through. It is just not always that the inner ear tunes in to the heart. Bravery is listening”, he’d said while continuing. ”Bravery is not blaming the moment but choosing the moment. Stepping in to the moment fully, interacting with all which is presenting itself there and then, that is bravery.”

All we are taught as kids is to chicken out. To forget the moment, to reminisce in the past, to make plans for the future in our bullet point journals so that we can then sit back and do ”nothing” while we are actually wasting precious diamonds of moments away, just checking stuff off a list.

”Do you remember that boardgame you played as a child? The one about ”The Star of Africa”, the gigantic diamond? Where you were taught that if you found rubies or sapphires or emeralds they were all just nothing compared to The Star of Africa?”

”How you kids loved playing that game. Throwing the dice, skipping stones and moments, being in awe of the colours a few milliseconds before you realized it was not The Star. You learned greed, discontent, not-good-enough-ness bit by bit. Moment after moment lost. Bravery would have been to stay with the emerald. To sit still. To thank it, saying you are not moving on yet, you are just lingering right here enjoying your new friend Emerald and intend to hang with him until it is time for you both to move on. Not when the throw of a dice says it’s time to move on. The universe throws its own dice and move you accordingly, in the dance where you can intend to go places when your heart sings about them.”

”Bravery, my dear. That is who you are from this day forward.”

He nudged her with his nose, poked her in the face, then in the belly till she started laughing, looked at her and then at the river quickly making its way down between the mountain tops.

”Time for breakfast” he yelled out, jumping in to the river to get his morning serving of salmon and fresh water. She rolled out the sac with her oat and corn flour bread mix, added a handful of the clear meltwater, flattened it with the ”baking stone” she’d gotten from those very cheeky dwarves some time ago. There were still a few glistening flakes of glow from last nights fire gently puffing as the wind was doing its dance. She helped along with her breath, rolled the flatbread around the birch tree stick and cooked her breakfast as Meru was wolfing his down.

Life like this. All you need. Nothing more. Nothing less. Human. Wolf. Nature. Mother Earth. Father Sky. Breath. This.

”See”, he whistled. ”Here and now! Bravery! Realizing you never ever need more than what is here and now, that is something something!”

”The thing is”, she told herself more than anyone else, ”I will have to go back some day. Back to what we call ”the world”. I cannot make it out here in winter.”

”How do you know that?” Meru asked. ”You have no clue as to what is around the corner, of what the next thought will be, so how can you know even a whim of what is to come this winter as your feet are bathing in the waters of now? Why anticipate what you don’t know? Be practical. Look at what you know and what makes sense in that. Winter is usually cold. So, you need good, warm clothes, shelter and food. You live with a wolf, so you won’t go hungry. Easy!”

”You make me laugh Meru. Always.”

”Little busy one. You have been so active filling up with worries and to-do’s and have to’s and building plans and and and that there has been no space for the What Is.

Filling the What Is space keeps you away from succeeding at what you are here to do, from completing your task, from receiving the key to the next moment from this moment. Laugh. Be Open To Everything. Let the runes speak. Let the river answer.”

 

Cecilia Götherström, Dec 3rd 2019

 

Kringlans Kalender 2019/ Meru’s wisdom, Dec 2nd

Meru-2

She had cast the runes. Again. As if for the first time. Her head was spinning, her guts were in knots, her shoulders hunched, her eyes squirting through the shadows. What were those signs? What were they trying to tell her?

She sighed. Gathered the runes, Put them  back in the Pouch of Magic, which she had called it as a child. Why could she not go back to her childlike state? To re-enter that curiousity and openness,  free from wanting anything, safe.

”Wisdom lies in embracing the unknown. It is what you already know but don’t know that you know. When you leap in to the unknown every day anew will you start scratching the dirt off the gold, the mud off the jewel,” rough and clear his voice reached out of the woods.

She stopped. Decided to sit down and listen this time. To wait.

”It is time to go sit with Grandfather, at his side by the great fire. You’ve spun. You’ve woven. Now t is time to take the reins and do it all with intent. With a fully open heart. Leaning on Grandfather with one ear, listening with the other ear. Facing the fire, right down there at the water, under the starlit sky. Returning there over and over again as seasons pass. Coming back to Source.”

”It is not your time to play it small”, he continued. ” It is not your time to hide behind routines. It is your time to let go of all the things which are not meaningful, to open up to your own meaningfullness. By the way, this is not a suggestion. It’s an order.”

She had no clue whether it was the wind that spoke, or the trees, or the mountain, or none of those.

Dagaz. The rune of transformation. Of moving from night to day. That’s where she was right now.

Tiwaz. The rune of strong forward focused energy, symbolizing the sword, the divine masculine. The rune pointing towards bravery, willingness to sacrifice, to boldness and balance. At the place of her current future and what is to come.

The runes confirmed what she had just been told.

He watched her through the pines. Little girl, sitting there on the rock at the riverbank. Little grey pouch of runes in one hand, palm of the other hand open, large sky coloured eyes gazing from the palm of her hand to the woods, to the skies, back to the palm. As she let the runes in her hand slide back in to the pouch, shaking it before she tied it closed, placing it in her backpack, he prepared to move towards her. Not too fast, not too slow. They had not seen each other for nine years and he did not want to startle her.

She reached her hands to the sky totally unaware of his presence. She yawned, jumped on to the riverbank, moving the air downwards with her palms, touching the rocks.

”Father Sky to Mother Earth”, she sang.

”Mother Earth to Father Sky” , as she moved the air to the sides and upwards again with her palms.

Three times.

Meru could do nothing but yawn himself, and as he gently tread out of the shadow of the pinetrees in all his wolfness he started howling along with her singing.

She stopped. Her palms were already placed facing each other in front of her heart. Head bowed. She gently rolled her head up. Eyes filled to the brim with tears. Tears welling in to the river she was standing in.

”Meru, Meru, my dearest Meru! You are here! You are back! You are alive!”

”Yes my dear. Nine years is a long time in the life of a wolf but I ain’t no regular wolf. Just like you ain’t no regular person”.

– Cecilia Götherström, 2 December 2019

 

Kringlans Kalender 2019/ Meru’s Wisdom, Dec 1st

A new star is born

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The wintercoat thickened. Like a new layer of atmosphere along this cold ball of lightning. Out of nothingness came life, came light, came a mist as if breathed through the voice of the void. Bright, strong, finely filigraphicially painted across a velvety canvas of the universe.

It´s song sung itself into existence, in to living. What had begun like a seed, like a wish, like an idea, a longing, a spiralling small funkle of snakey energy had started curling in upon and around itself. Spiralling while fuming. Moving faster and faster in an intriquate yet messy pattern, spinning its own being in to life. Not a sparkle and bang like fireworks on new years day. More like a sneaky, slow, quiet, first breath of a sly dragon escaping it´s passage , becoming its own life form ,its own master, its own creation.

It was felt. So strong was the notion of a new star just born that it was impossible to turn any heads away from what was not awaited any more but birthed in to being right now.

Strong. White. Whiskery. Slow. Sly. Clever. Knowing.

Star.

 

– Cecilia Götherström