”In wisdom there is gentleness. There is softness. There is silence. Deep within all of that lies a strength and a will which is stronger, clearer and shining more brightly than any Diamond Of The Snows ever perceived.”

She walks beside me. Her scrawny, white legs moving as if in twilight-time. Paws barely touching the ground as they shift. It as if she floats. As if she makes the space around her move as her body graciously motions through the very same air touching my face, my nostrils, while at the same time inhabiting two dimensions.

I have been told a long, long time to use my gifts. To stand on two legs, rooted in each dimension simultaneously. I have been struggling with grasping the practicalities of it. She is showing me how by just being who she is and doing what she is supposed to do. There is no doubt about her having a purpose. Ever. There is no doubt about her following her purpose. Ever. She just does it because her heart is anchored strong and her nose is pointing in that direction.

I remember the little child born into confusion. The little child who believed in the light of the world, in the diamond in the heart, in the nose pointing in the direction the diamond mapped out. The girl who came in to this world with a purpose so strong it was too much for her parents to handle. They did not know where to place this life-bubble, so it was easier to forget her. Easier to push her gifts away, to hide under the strife of daily life, to lose her just like they had lost themselves a long time ago.

This strong, beautiful, white wolf with the constant following of a fox pup had been there all along.

”Yes”, she says. ”I have been watching from a distance. From a mountaintop within. You needed to climb quite a few mountains to meet me again, but Fox has always been there. Through bushes, rivers, sandbanks, rocky roads, gold paved streets, avalanches, waveriding on the ocean, sleeping, waking, sleeping and waking again”.

”In honour of the two of us!”, I find myself gasping while smacking myself on the forehand with the palm of my hand. ”Duuuuuh! That was it all along!”

”Yes”, Wolf replied. ”In honour of you and the one walking next to you. In honour of the one walking next to you and in honour of yourself. Everyone has someone walking next to them, everyone is walking next to someone. Seing that well, that dispels the impression of there being different dimensions once and for all”.

• Cecilia Götherström, Dec 3rd 2018

The crocodile came to me in dreamtime. He told me to seek out the The Mother Tree. Told me she´d been communicating through the roots and the waters of all Soulkind, urging his people to take action, to pass their knowledge through. With his jaws and dark black eyes he nudged me not to wait.

I woke up Raven.

”Come on you sleepy bird, we´ve got places to go, things to do!”

Raven shook her drowsy feathers, a few soft plumes danced to the floor. She looked at me. ”Oh dear, that crazy croc could not let you sleep til at least dawn? Never mind, the days of us ravens having time for a coffee and a biscuit in the moring are long gone ayway. Don´t think I´ve had one of them mornings since Odins days”.

It was indeed pitch black outside still. As soon as my feet hit the pavement a shadow came down in the light of the setting moon, tailing Raven.

”Oh, come on now, give me a break!” I heard Raven croaking. ”Why do you owls always have to barge in as guides? You know us ravens are fully capable of doing this too right?”

”Of course dear”, a soft howling voice replied. ”But I also know your kind are much better at gathering and observing than our kind, which is much needed on this journey. So, please, let me do the accompanying of guiding.”

Owl picked me up. How that happened in practical detail I can´t explain. It just felt natural. On her back, next to Raven, we set off towards the pines.

Moments – or was it months? – later we descended in to an opening among the firs. There, in the centre stood not one but three mother trees – Mother Birch, Mother Oak and Mother Aspen. Also known as The Three Wise Mothers.

The minute we landed on the frost and snow covered moss a song started filling the clearing from the ground up. Tunes arose from the moss. The frost sharped them, made them clearer. A deep voice started singing from the roots of The Three Wise Mothers.

”Every time you humans cut down a tree you kill a part of your own soul”. A voice spoke through the chanting. ”Every time you humans cut down a tree you kill the land of the fairies, you rob the dimensions of connection, you tear out the roots in your heart – the very roots which give life to the body, soul and conciousness of every sentient thread in this and all the parallell universes. How can you stay close to and listen to your own tree if it ain´t there no more?”

Another voice took over.

”You see, child. We trees hold heaven and earth together. On all planes. In all existance. We sing life in to being. Every being is born with a link to his or her own tree. When that link is severed only chaos and loneliness prevails. We love you all, but we can´t take it no more. You see, you can only go so far with love without connection.”

A third voice tuned in.

”Now it is up to you to take our song in to the world. For the last time. It needs to travel through the portal.”

• Cecilia Götherström, 2 december 2018