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

 

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

 

 

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

 

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

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

Grace & Gratitude

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The new moon is one day away.

Next to the customary list or lists of what our wishes are for the new moon, this new moon we are being called to listen to Grace and Gratitude.

If Grace and Gratitude were people, what would they tell you?

If you were to sit down with them at the dinner table, or have a glass with them at the open fire place, or if you met them on that packed bus on the way to work in the morning –  what would you share with each other?

What would they wear?

How would they look?

How would meeting and hanging out with them feel?

What would you take away from the meeting?

What would you give them from the bag of treasures you carry around by just being you?

 

Happy New Moon dears, thank you for being who you are in the world!

xxx

Cecilia Götherström, Nov 25th 2019

For H… – and for M

I wrote this piece, for H and for M, in January of 2014. At a time where I could finally get closure on what happened 16 years earlier.

Today, in July of 2019, I can finally feel the true healing happening, thanks to SiStarHood galore. 

You will always be in my heart. In my every smile.

Thank you.

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You arrived with a bunch of our “season-friends”,
smile from cheek to cheek
as if you had swallowed the sun.

My heart fluttered,
euphoria
“He is here”, “he really came”

A wonderful summer could not come to a better end.

More than a hundred very special people,
connected in ways most outsiders never would understand
gathered in the evening sun this day in August.

Short speech,
the bar open,
the band playing,
the buffet inviting everyone to celebrate.

The air was alive,
the hearts were filled to the brim,
the beer was cold.

“Will you come with me?”
“Yes”, I whispered.

Your hands were warm.

“Tonight I have to host this party but tomorrow I am all yours.
We have the rest of our lives ahead of us”.

My words held a promise.

Two souls,
young, fearless and bright
amidst this crowd of connected spirits,
snowflakes being our glue.

It is night.

I lie here curled up against his body.
My face drowning in his naked chest,
my whole being shivering, quaking.

I try to breathe slow,
but I can´t.

One ear rests against his heart,
taking in the constant “thuck, thuck, thuck”,
the powerful blood,
the elixir of life pumping through his veins,
so alive,
so strong,
so real.

My other ear is listening to a different “thuck, thuck, thuck”,
the sound of the heavy coast guard helicopter,
surveilling the dark waters,
looking for your body,
so eerie,
yet so real.

Heart.
Helicopter.
Heart.
Helicopter.
Heart.
Helicopter.
Bodybag.
Heart.
Soul.

Cecilia Götherström, Jan 22nd 2014

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