Her whiskers touch my hand. She eats gently out of the palm of my hand. Young one. Brave one. Gentle and so powerful.
Looking back , I see how I had no understanding in that younger mind of mine of how this four footer could have chosen me, could have loved me so dearly from day one. To me it had seemed so clear back then that I had just taken too much hay on my fork – as usual – by inviting this little ball of fierce energy in to my life and now I had to deal with it.
Being here with her now I wonder if it is not she who took too much hay on her fork by coming in to my life.
My Angel.
The drums of nature are calling. My angel is speaking. She speaks through the curiousness of her eyes. Through eternal listening. Through her constant invitation of pure awareness and boundless peace.
I am still learning her language. Or unlearning the old language, as she calls it.
Her language is in her ways.
“Learn my ways and you will learn new things”. The first sentence she ever spoke to me.
The light is bright. The candle flickers higher than what should be possible. Its spark illuminates the night.
“That little light, that little spark, hold on to that”, she motions with her paw.
“Watch it grow, watch it flicker, watch it sparkle, let it take over, let it burn down all that which is overgrown and overbearing, carry it with you in the night, hold it in your heart, see it in your mind, know that the only focus you need is that light, that one light, that one flickering luminous flame.”
“The flame that so many are afraid of shall be hidden no more. It is burning and it will only burn stronger and stronger the coming years, decades and centuries.”
“ Those who hide their flames will be choked by their own smoke. Literally. It is already happening. Dim your light and you feel the inner claustrophobia creeping in. Shut the door of your soul and you fall ill. Soul ill. You feel betrayed. Trapped. You look outside for the reasons. You trace your days, years, decades, centuries back for explanations. You want to understand.”
“There is nothing to be understood. There is a hatch to be opened. A door to be blown wide open by a storm so fierce that the magma of Vattnajökull diminishes in comparison. All you are to do is to hand over the key. Hand it back to the soul. Be bold! You cannot hold back what is meant to be. What already is. Open! Stand! Be bold!”
This, the 13th year, of The SkrivKringlans Advent Calendar, 2024, I am following a different process. Still writing every day of the 21 days, but publishing on every advent.
Auspiciously enough Dec 1st is on the First of Advent as well as on the date of the New Moon this December. Something I took as a confirmation of this guidance to write differently instead of not writing at all due to the very turbulent circumstances in life at the moment.
The Life of A WaterDragon
Razor-sharp crystals of snow and ice danced around her face. The blizzard was so strong there was literally nothing to be seen, yet her feet felt every step through the cracking snow. Her nose picked up the scent of frozen pine and distant log fires from the valley below, her ears could easily distinguish by the song of the wind through which part of the cliff openings she was walking.
This is where she grew up. Where she had been trained for this part pf her life. Rolling down the mountain slopes in summer, through daisies and clover with all the other kids, sledding down the same faces in winter, even skiing down in teenage years.
She was not like the other kids though. During her first years of walking and talking she would head out the front door during the night, pushing it open with all her tiny weight, almost fall on the porch as the heavy wooden door swayed open, sit down on the rain deer skin at the edge, feet dangling over the small stair steps, looking up at the large star-filled sky.
Watching her breath turn to mist she would sing. The sound created itself, she felt it stirring in the belly, tingling in the fingers as it worked its way up and out through her throat. She sang to Orion, the Big Dipper, Cassiopeia, The Seven Sisters, and they all sang back to her.
She felt so infinite and still, so full of the same life she felt in the trees, the moss, the creeks and the rivers.
The dragging of feet on in the hallway could be heard, the creaking of the door handle as it was pushed down, the sigh of dad as he’d just been woken up – again . She turned her head to greet his large green eyes adorned by eyebrows as bushy as the pine trees in spring.
“What are you doing up singing with the dragons again my litte pea?” he asked.
“Dad, they aren’t dragons. They’re fairy spirits dancing in silver and diamond dust”, she giggled as she corrected him. “You know the dragons don’t come out till June”.
Whoooosh! – The sound of the blizzard hitting The Northern Face brought her back to the here and now.
When was the last time she’d ever been this close to the descend down this face of the mountain? It must have been decades, or was it centuries, ago?
Never ever had she looked that deep down in to an abyss, that she knew. Life as she knew it then was over. She had peaked down in to the darkness, almost as velvet as the moonless sky above .The rock in her throat, the clenching in her stomach and the shattered space of her heart making it feel like she was being strangled from within while dangling alone in a universe devoid of colour.
The Northern Face had called her there, all the way to the edge of darkness. The tune that arose from her inside had been anything but a song. It was a shriek of eons of pain roaming the whole mountain side strong enough to create avalanches.
“Feel the ground you walk upon. Be the ground, the sky, the sense of every-thing. Be alive”, a voice from somewhere in the air between her and the edge had sung.
“Be fully present in each and every moment”, it continued. “The love of Mary, the sacred heart of Jesus”.
There was a swooshing of moving air creating mist around her and a huge winged being landed next to her.
“I am WaterDragon and you just woke me up”.
The light through the blizzard was brighter than the white of the snow. How on earth was that possible?
A pillar of light, like a great crystal wand, wide at the bottom, gently sloping inwards towards the heights until three smaller faces met like the top of a pyramid what seemed like at least a hundred meters up from where she stood manifested through the glimmering snow crystals.
The song swirling from the peak of the crystal pillar in a spiral downwards where of the chords she had heard back then.
“The love of Mary. The sacred heart of Jesus”, she heard herself sing out.
“The Light of Christ, pink magenta dancing in crystal clearing”. She recognized the voice. Her. She WaterDragon.
“Where have you been all this time? Where have you been?”
“Inside Your Heart and in the air, In Space and Time Yes, everywhere.
In every breath you dear heart of mine. In the here, there and everywhere. There is nowhere I have not been,
Always.
In the music, in the song In the cry of your heart, In the joy of your dreams.
In, beside, behind, beyond, within, next to, above, below, around Everywhere. Always. Everywhere.
There is nothing you see that I don’t see. There is nothing you hear that I don’t hear. There is nothing you feel that I don’t feel. There is nothing you breathe that I don’t breathe. There is nothing you are that I am not.
I am right Here. EverywHere.
Always.”
Cassandra knew She WaterDragon was right. She had felt her all the time, yet she had missed her with her entire heart and soul for so long, so deeply. Under the surface of the misty mind entangled in the worldly She WaterDragon had always been there. Yet Cassandra had tuned her out, somehow she had tuned her out.
“Not important my child, not important”, the dragon gently moved a strand of hair out of the way over Cassandra’s eyes. The wind was still strong though the blizzard had slowed down.
“What are we to do, my Queen ? What are we to do my love?” Cassandra turned her face towards the dragon.
“We are to live my dear, we are to live. Nothing more, nothing less. And we are to share that in every moment we are here, with each and every one, every tree branch, every squirrel , every sunrise, sunset, blizzard, wave, starlight, person, animal, mineral, planet, stardust particle, every seaside, mountainside, avalanche, every headlight staring deer, singing infant, owl, man, woman, child, foul, puppy, seed, plant, every atom and molecule , with everything and everyone that lives and breathes out there. Fully, unapologetically, alive.”
The dragon flew up and landed on the first pine tree she saw. Small pine trees this high up in the mountains.
“Look here. Look around you. What is there to not celebrate? To not let the Light of Christ, the Love of Mary in to? Or to not see them in? And how about Orion? Cassiopeia? Our dear Canis Major and Minor? Atlas? All the others? The Light and The Love are there too, are them too. Heck, we are all Li-Lo born and Li-Lo infused”.
“Li-Lo?” , Cassandra laughed. “Have we created artist names for The Light of Christ and The Love of Mary?”
“Have we?”, She WaterDragon sent the question back.
Three nights and six days had passed. How that is possible I cannot tell you without getting entangled in splendid detail. So let’s leave that shall we?
Cassandra found herself at the bottom of the mountain. Her home mountain. At the space where the deep waters of the lakes and fjords led in to the vast, vast ocean, in to the depths of where the soul deep diving whales and orca’s danced every new season.
She WaterDragon had motioned her to come join at the edge of the lake, where the huge, blue calcite meteorite served like a crown jewel styled bridge between the mountain side and the fields of green of the lush village of Angelside.
They sat there, Cassandra watching her breath turn to mist as she tilted her head up towards the stars, She WaterDragon making circles in the water with her long tail to the rhythm of her own song.
“Be fully present in each and every moment”, Cassandra sang. “It has never been any easier than this. Never more difficult than right now. When you stand at the bank of the river, becoming the lake, only to know you are moving in to the sea, of which you have always been, always will be. Being fully present when you know all you can do is disintegrate here under the stars to move forward. To be born. To re-birth.
“Shed my child, shed”, SheDragon’s calm voice. “ Shed and receive. The love of Mary, the sacred heart of Jesus. This December.”
SheDragon continued “these words are just symbols. These pictures are just symbols. Even the connotations are just symbols. The love of Mary, the eternal love of the eternal mother. She, Earth, Space, Womb of the Divine, everywhere and nowhere, everything and nothing, Creation, readiness, discipline, sacredness.
The sacred heart of Jesus. It, he, Love so humongous it leaves no one outside of it, yet everyone are inside it, all encompassing, omnipresent guidance from within, powerful alignment from within with without, as above so below, togetherness.”
“Soul birthing life, life birthing soul. The old releasing the new, the new calling in the old, the union of all the refined arts of living, being, loving and worshipping being embraced fully in each and every moment. Present in every moment. That is what the Life of a WaterDragon is about. That is what I am here to bring you back into my precious pearl of loving wisdom. That. And the importance of play.”
“Everyone heals in their own way. How you heal is up to you. Up to you to find, to feel, to sense, to belong to. Yes, to belong to. There is nothing to figure out, it is all in the heart, in the Earth, held by the sky and Space. That which you belong to. That which is also your healing.”
She changed her seat. Got up. Twirled the thread between her fingers. Spun it around her hands.
“The gift of healing is the gift of seeing”, she continued. Her eyes were wide and warm. Her breath travelled far in the cold air filling the cottage.
“Magic is a choice. Seeing is choice. Living is a choice. What you choose is what you see. The more often you consciously choose, seeing itself chooses you. Just don’t ponder too much on that last part. Go out and choose!”
She swung her arms open towards the door, motioning me to get ready to leave.
“Remember, there is no horizon. Remember, the horizon is the horizon”
She is teaching me
how
to love again,
how to
thaw
that coldness,
how to
trust,
through gentleness,
not forcing
She is teaching me
that
hail
is just frozen water,
that
Christmas
is in your heart,
not in a tree,
or in snow
on the ground
She is teaching me
that you can,
you should
love,
even when
your heart
seems
to be breaking
She is teaching me
to listen,
to listen,
to listen
especially when
you don’t want to
She is teaching me
about lineage,
connection,
unbroken threads
of life
weaving unbound
in to
each other
She is teaching me
about
Starlight,
remembering
gingerbread songs
in honour of the two of us
being
always
left
unbroken
She is teaching me
to be
here,
now,
in the storm,
in the power,
in the stillness
She is teaching me
her
ways
And I
I
get
to learn
Starlight
- Trinity
Cecilia Götherström, Kringlans AdventsKalender 2022
She called in the Angels. She called in Source Light. Realizing that you call in what already exists within you, that which if you don’t voice and sound it , the powers, the source, the light cannot act. They can only shine. And if you are blind to their light you cannot receive the reflection of that light in your heart. In your star.
The angels said “Let us hold you, let us bow over you, lift you from underneath, surround you, love you, hold you. All you need to do is ask. Ask and surrender.”
“I surrender”. She folded forwards in a bow, a prayer, like a feather flowing to the ground, lightly resting there. “No more fighting. No more. I am done. Done fighting. Done resisting. Done.”
“You are that which you Are”, the angels sang. “ A part of Source Light. Nothing else. The rest is just a coat. A coat of many colours.”
She saw a diamond. A diamond with all its facets. The light shone through. It touched the inside. The inside reflected back. The outside reflected the inside back.
“Where the light comes from is not important. When you feel encumbered by shadow, sit in that light,” the Northern Lights swooshed their song her way. Diamonds and crystals of white, green and purple faceting their way through the skies.
The angels widened their circles. Their light became one with the beaming sky in the darkness.
“Without darkness, no fluorescence. In this dark season all can be folded in, embraced, loved, let go of where needed. Life is one big inhale and exhale. Life is one big expansion and contraction. Its energy is light. Its outcome is light. The deeper the winter dark, the stronger the magic, the stronger the light.”
She exhaled. She sighed. Gave herself to the earth. Done.
A wet little nose against hers. A puppy tongue licking her face, sharp little teeth testing the boundaries on her nose. Love.
She closed her eyes to the world, like she had closed her heart to the world too many years before. The world was not what she needed and the world did not need her.
Well, not the real her anyway.
What the world seemed to need was the one she could never be. The one she had tried to be. The one she had done her best to live up to. Which had never been enough.
She closed her eyes and promised to never look back. Only to look inwards. Following the symbols and the keys. Passing through doors new and old over and over again. Inner doors and inner dimensions.
What is out there is what is out there yet it’s not out there.
To see for real you have to fly with your eyes wide shut. So that your souls eyes are held open. Letting the silence speak like the Northern Lights sing. Stalling your gaze on that magnificence. That magnificence your being truly is.
When you walk down to the river’s edge where the white , crisp ice meets the dark lava coloured bottomless water and you peer in to the depths only to see the reflections of endless space, multitudes of stars and galaxies undiscovered. Then.
When you are there, and you lean a little further over the filigreed edge, and you look in to two deep, brown eyes, adorned by a silver grey mane, a large white muzzle, you realize that you are looking at a reflection of that unicorn which is you.
You pull back.
You look again.
Nothing has changed.
Or has everything changed?
The silver grey hair now adorns a woman dressed in white swirling lace and crystal studded layers dancing in the windless night to the rhythm of the Northern Lights.
“Be what you want to be, dive deep in to your true desires and be only that”, the wind which was not there, whispered.
She opened her eyes.
“See what is not there”, the whispers continued.
The first snow had started to fall. Out there, past the frosty grass, across the dunes, over the beach, a butterfly spread its wings.
“Don’t be afraid of completing your transformation even if tomorrow could be your last day. It’s all in the hands of you”.
“When the full moon dances in its own light. When its shadow pulls the breath of slivering starlight. When the omens and the signs are one and the same. When the exhalation of the pine trees is your sleep, your lingering moments of trust. That is when the moonstone speaks to you my child.”
The voice meanders through the dark morning like a hymn. Dawn is approaching, yet it is not here.
The moment before dawn. The moment before birth.
The dark. The void. The nothingness.
The sense of being held in Nothing-ness, in Everything-ness. The space we have been taught to fear, but which is the most loving, enveloping space. The space where we can hear. Where we can listen. Where we can see through the eyes of our own inner light.
I roll over in bed, ready to put my feet on the ground, placing them on the warm, fuzzy blanket.
The entire bedroom floor is covered with blankets held in place by sticky yoga mats underneath.
She’s old, you see. Her paws sprawl out to the sides sometimes. Her grip on artificial surfaces has let go. Her grip in moss, mud, earth, soil and sand has strengthened.
As the dust of dawn foxtrots gently through the tightly pulled blinds, touching the floor, reflecting off her fur, I see her. Curled up. Her white furry legs crossed. Jaws totally relaxed, breathing, snoozing. Head resting gently on the edge of her orthopaedic bed.
Peace. Magic. Love. Stardust. Gentleness. Listening. Kindness. Holiness. All. Breathing in. Breathing out.
As I open the faucet to splash my hands and face in ice cold water, it drizzles like gemstones landing in the sink. The light is as if from another dimension. Rich, gentle, blessed. This water. A gift.
Day one. Every morning anew. A promise. A vow. A vow of presence.
I will give myself to the story being birthed in each breath. The one story springing forth from the song. The song of creation.
“Listen. Listen to the moon. Listen to the stone. Listen to the song. This is Elsa’s Song.”
She on the other side of the veil embrace us both in her magic stride of sacred fierceness. Blessing us.
Samantha was standing at the ridge of the space which lead in to what the Everything the wolf called Nothingness. He said it was a mirror of himself. That only through Nothing can you find Everything. That only Everything can be Nothing. And Nothing be Everything.
She held her golden dragon magic knitted Listeners gloves clad palms open to the sky. Listened through her palms to the Mountains of Stillness and Silence. To their song.
Vayu, her HeartKingdom Sameness SoulStar, stood next to her, his grey and white winter fur grown really thick. He was no wolf pup any more. He was a wolf teen.
“You said you would write songs if you really listened with all filters gone”, his wolfness spoke. “Off you go my dear, what magic spell would release your first song in to this void of Allness, Nothingness and Everythingness?”
She looked with loving eyes at the wolf. This bundle of joy, wisdom and power. She turned around. Marcus, Grey and Storulven joined her there at the ridge. Barry did the same.
There they were, two humans, three wolves, one polar bear, facing the void of the Dawn.
Flanked on both sides and behind by the entire pack. Everything placed a little step in front of the rest of them.
Josephiel took to the skies. Mama D waited. Said it was not her time to adorn the skies with her dragoness yet, that Josephiel was to float the first tune.
It sounded like a mix of happy violins, bagpipes, wolf howls and the singing of the Northern Lights. The wind whistled. The snow furled around them. In a dance.
Looking up Samantha saw The Great Bear. It seemed to nod at Barry, who let out a “top of the morning old pal”, as he nodded back to his star ancestor.
A single white feather danced through space, landed in front of Marcus.
Samantha inhaled.
“Feather white,
Feather bright,
Share with me,
Your Sacred Light”.
A light show began on the heavens. A dance of glitter, of colours, against the velvety sky mixed with the glow of the dawning sunlight. All intermingled, intermixed, intertwined.
A song never heard before came out of the two mountain tops, one granite with deep, soothing, grounding, homefeeling tunes. One moonstone with soft, enticing, heartlightning, sacredly wrapped jewelclad tunes. Together they mixed. Like Shiva and Shakti. Like Yin and Yang. Like Creator and Creation.
“Sssssssshhhhhhhhh……shhhhhhhhh……shhhhhhhhhh”
The sound of whispers in the void, in the skies, in the space surrounding them all.
“Listen. Listen well.” Vayu said. “The dreams are arriving. The dreams are speaking. Listen. Listen. Listen. All will be revealed.”
“How can all be revealed if we don´t have all seven instructions yet?” Marcus wondered.
“You do, my child”, Mama D took to the skies, filled it up with her gorgeous silverwhitegrey dragon energy. “You all do. You unlocked them on your way here. Storulven, shall we?”
The large white wolf stepped forward, placed himself in the center of all of them.
“My dear Lightwarriors. My dear strong pack. We are on our journey to find the eternal pieces. We are very close. We all need to take our personal responsibility for our path, and we all need to walk in connection with each other at the same time. The instructions on how to get there, as these dreams are arriving to embrace us, we may now practice from this day forward. All seven. Vayu?”
Vayu The Wind Whispering Wolf sang in to the Stillness, in to all their hearts;
“The Seven Sacred Secret Instructions are calling us, one after the other, here they are, like a string of pearls, like a string of bright shining Stars;
Concious Dawn.
Life inside Life.
Sacred Listening.
Choose that heart of yours.
Let your journey find you.
Find your Star where she resides.
Sacred Fierceness. “
The lightshow sacred geometry hologram in the sky had ended. A bright light shone. On large, bright
“Stars shining right above you. Night breezes seem to whisper “I love you”. Birds singing in the full of pine needles tree. Dream a little dream of me, humptidumptidumtidum…..”
Barry was singing his way ascending the last piece of the slope ending at the plateau between the two mountain peaks.
“Not sure those are the true lyrics”, Marcus commented. “Think it should be a sycamore tree”.
“Come on! You can’t expect a polar bear to have any clue about what a sycamore tree is!” Barry shook his large head at Marcus.
The wind picked up. It came out of nowhere. All of a sudden there was a huge whirlwind of feathers, large and small, silvery, white, grey, golden, being blown around in a ferocious dance.
Storulven and Grey signalled the whole pack to a halt.
“The Whispers don’t take the singing jokes lightly today”, Grey spoke. “Usually The Whispers have the greatest sense of humour as they are totally egoless. It is just that right now we are really in The Stillness and Silence territory and here singing has the greatest of magnanimous purposes”.
“What is he talking about?”, Marcus asked the wolf next to him. A gangly little red and white male called Everything.
“Dreams”, Everything replied. “You see we are all made of dreams, sung in to existence by The Whispers”.
Storulven continued;
“Vayu The Wind Whispering Wolf is waiting for us. He’s the keeper of Dreams. The everlasting pieces. His time is now. So is all of ours. Right now. We are here to sing all that Sacred Fierceness in to existence. First the dreams need to be dreamed. I believe Samantha and Josephiel begun the knitting of that some days ago. We all will put our own spice in the mix. Josephiel The Cloud Shrouding Dragon and Snow will filligraphically project them through the sacred geometry in the skies between the two peaks of Moonstone and Granite. Then The Whispers will speak. No clue what they will say. What they will sing. We will be the chorus. We will all Be.”
“Let’s get inside the woods before we are blown off the slope by all these feathers”, Grey turned his head to point in his wolfy way towards the thin line of pine trees between them and the open glen behind.
“Star Seeker, Star Seeker, find your Star, find your Light. Star Seeker, Star Seeker find your Light, find your Star.”
Was that the feather-filled wind singing Marcus wondered?
“Star Seeker, Star Seeker, feet on the Earth, Heart in The Heavens, Star Seeker, find your Star where she resides”.
FlowerOfTheThunderAndLightning 