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Kringlans Kalender 2020. Sacred. Part 6. Dec 6th

Touch. Meeting. Fierceness.

Sacred.

Sacred Touch.

Sacred Meeting.

Sacred Fierceness.

Home.

Marcus was walking between the pine trees. Following path leading from the back of the house up to Beaver Lake. Here he could always take everything in. Listen. Listen to the whispers of his soul. Something his Great Ma had taught him to do.

Great Ma was not his grandmother by bloodline. She was the Grand Mother for everyone living scattered on this large space of land of mountains, streams, lakes, waterfalls, peaks, rocks, woods and wilderness. She was like the moon – always there, always still yet so powerful, always present. She had taught all the kids in school how to listen to The Whispers Of The Soul. 

When she retired from her position as woodwork, arts, crafts and music teacher at the village school she started giving drumming lessons in the village hall on Saturday mornings. Drumming and jojking.

Those Saturday mornings they had learned how to drum the questions, how to listen and then jojk or sing the answers as they came in.

Sacred Touch.

Sacred Meeting.

Sacred Fierceness.

The first two parts had moved in like pieces from a mystic veil. The last part, placed like a statement in the snow.

Marcus kept following the path. Stars started to fill up the sky as the sun disappeared behind the treetops, making way for the moon. He knew he had only scratched the surface. The phrases were an invitation to dig deeper, an instruction to plunge.

Symphonies never took plunges. They had crescendos, build ups, cross overs. Never plunges.

He was afraid that he would lose himself if he plunged. As soon as that insight hit him he stopped, sighed, raised his hands up to catch a few soft snowflakes falling off the pine branches.

“The soul lives in the unknown. It’s never happy, nor supposed to live in the known of the mind. It’s supposed to live in the heart. And the heart can only be fully open when you are open to fall. Fall to Grace. Fall in Love. Fall Over. Fall.”

He heard Great Ma as if she was speaking from the space between the pine needles, the space inside the pine cones.

“Keep walking son. Keep following her footsteps. Remember in your heart where she wanted to go, what she wanted, what gave her joy, what made her strong, what released her, remember and follow that”, the voice spoke to his entire Beingness.

Her name. He had to speak her name out loud to be able to reach that magic again. Why was it so hard to do that?

Home.

He just wanted to call her Home.

He fell to his knees in the snow, laid down on his belly making a snow angel, his face buried in the snow. He rolled over. Lay on his back, caught falling snow flakes with his tongue like when he was a kid, watched the stars, the tops of the firs moving back and forth, back and forth, covering and revealing, covering and revealing.

That was it! Covering and revealing. Covering and revealing!

“Star”.

He spoke her name out loud.

“Star!”

  • Cecilia Götherström, December 6th 2020
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Kringlans Kalender 2020/ Sacred. Part 3. December 3rd.

“Sacred Touch. Sacred Meeting.”

He heard the words as if they were alive, dancing in space in the room, sliding around the Christmas tree still waiting to be decorated, floating over the grand piano where he was sitting, caressing the keys of the instrument like he was moving his fingertips through her fur. Gently, carefully, lovingly, with an intent to listen to the music of her presence, the one thing which would open his heart up wide. With her, everything had been possible. With her, his whole life – and not just his work – had become a symphony.

People had called him crazy, taking in a 60 kg rescued wolf in his house when he already spent close to a full work day behind the piano quite often seven days a week. How would he have time for the hours of movement, care and attention this animal required ?

But he knew. The minute he had looked in to her eyes, he knew. This was it. Why he was here on this earth. Why she was here on this earth.

The magic he felt under his fingertips when playing the piano, the magic which spun its way in to human hearts and living room speakers, came from the wild, from the habitat which she was. 

Together they had roamed many nights under the stars in the snow, many days up and down the mountains during the light months of the year, spent many mornings down at the lake fishing in each their own way.

“Sacred Fierceness”.

The words danced around him again. He felt in his soul abode that it was her. She was speaking to him from the other side of the veil. The way the words moved there was no other possibility.

The past months since he’d lost her, he found himself more misplaced than ever. 

Not even the music could lead him back. For months his state of mind was in a place of constant straying.

Then, one morning, a strange looking half grey, half white feather swirled down from the rooftop, landed in his morning coffee as he was sitting on the porch looking for the meaning of that day with all his might. 

The way the feather danced was the beginning of this new symphony he was working on right now.

Home.

He had wanted to call it Home. Yet the word “Sacred” kept coming up. Wherever he looked, whatever he did, whatever he read, whatever he listened to, the word was there. 

He got the hint. Named the symphony “Sacred Home”. 

Yet right now he was in a place where his heart felt a need to become unbroken before he could continue with what he’d worked on these last three days since the feather had landed.

“Marcus?”

Gina, his only neighbor, peaked in through the front door. Bob, the Labrador, as always right next to her.

 “Did you write the words “Sacred Fierceness” in the snow out front?”

Cecilia Götherström, Dec 3rd 2020. 

Kringlans Kalender / Meru’s Wisdom, Dec 21st

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Raidho.

Strong rune of protection. Thor´s rune, some said. The rune of travelling, moving forward, making a good move. The rune of order, of structure, of overcoming difficulties.

Meru smiled. Star sighed. The runes had spoken to the human again this the last morning of the old.

She was protected, divine shelter beaming out through the five wolf hearts, spinning gold and silver stardust threads around “their” human.

Dawn felt different.

She’d woken up this morning with a voice inside her saying “you are a different person now. As you walk out the door of this morning you are an entirely new one. Your road is paved with shining bricks, with talking dust, with warm loving moss wherever you go. You just make sure you follow the calling now. That you listen.”

She’d cast the runes at breakfast, knowing she would not cast the second one until they were ready to embark on the next step.

Wizard and SilverGrey were all set for them to unite, to go meet up with DragonWhite and Elo at the outskirts of the village. So they all took off together.

At the edge of the valley, where the first house since the abandoned barn where the whole Nisse clan lived stood, they stopped. Wizard was preparing to get another cloak out of the saddlebag, this one gold and bluestone woven, for Dawn. She stopped him right then and there.

“Wizard, dear Wiz, I am not sure I am ready for this. Not sure I want this. I still feel the pull of the trees, the pines calling me. I would much rather just go hang in the woods for another few weeks, months, years…”

“Would you really?” Meru asked her. “Or are you just resisting what you know is your gift to do? Reach inside, ask yourself, take time, listen. Pinecones and moonstones.”

Way nudged Dawn to sit down, resting her red wolf head in the humans lap.

Dawn closed her eyes, travelled inwards. Found herself in a chariot with the man of the rune. Him giving her the reins and jumping out to the sound of a powerful storm. Thunder and lightning changing in to hail, then to snow, to soft winds placing large snowflakes gently on the ground. Dawn landed the chariot in the softness. Stepped out. Allowed Wizard to cloak her in the bluestones silver and gold woven robe. She listened to the whispers of the wind. She opened her eyes.

There, right in front of her, the whole wolf pack lined up. Her heartfamily.

And Wizard. The most “heavenly” Father anyone could ever have. Presenting her with her purpose, cause and future on outstretched arms in the form of this magic cloak woven by every elemental tribe, every element, every season, initiated by the breath of DragonWhite. Would she receive it?

Of course she would. Of course she did.

 

Dagaz.

The rune of the day, of dawn. Of transformation, breakthrough, awareness, happiness, clarity, hope. “Det dagas”.

 

 

Cecilia Götherström, Dec 21st 2019 

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Kringlans Kalender / Meru’s Wisdom, Dec 19th

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

“In the dark of the morning…”, Craft found himself realizing something and pushed Meru awake. “That is why you called her Dawn.”

“Yes, brother”, Meru confirmed. “Your Limitlessness, the gift of being able to be just that, is reflected for the human in that name.”

“So then, why brother dear, did she get the full name Dawn Faith MorningStar? It should be Dawn Gloria MorningStar!”

Meru took his time, pretending to give the idea a good ponder, gave Craft a friendly push back. “You always get to the core of the bone, the pool in the heart man! You are right!”

“Howl yeah! What good is Faith if you don’t know you are Gloria!?”

Way moved across the soft hay in the barn towards Craft and Meru. “Guys, we need to get outside now when the moonstones still light the way”.

Wizard was already outside. Holding his staff up to the still dark morning sky. A sliver of moonlight was shining through the veil shaped clouds.

“I know he is out here somewhere. I have asked all the stones sparkling in the moonlight to shine the way for him. I just hope he makes it before it is too bright and the sun takes over the glow. He always prefers silver to gold, you see. Maybe that’s why he got his name, Silver Grey.”

The wizard had hardly finished his last sentence when they all noticed a large shadow making its way out of the woods, following the snow covered dirt road leading up to the barn. Who or what was this?

A loud neigh.

Silver Grey. Of course! Wizard’s best friend ever!

The grand grey horse came out of the dimness as the first flake of morning sun touched the stable door. His long mane and silver white tail moving gently in the morning breeze, like mist. They could all see the reflections of the veil in his tail and mane, the voice of the void in his illustrious eyes.

He walked up to Wizard, put his nose on the old mans shoulder, breathing deep. Wizard hugged his arms around the horse’s neck.

The elves bowed, the Nissar came running out of the barn carrying a finely knit silverthread and greenstone blanket , the fairies placing it softly across the back of Silver.

”Now it’s your turn Wizard”. Meru nudged Wizard to hand over the wand as it was Wizard’s turn get in to his own silverthread and redstone knitted cloak, assisted by the fairies.

 

Cecilia Götherström, Dec 19th 2019

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Kringlans Kalender 2019/ Meru’s Wisdom, Dec 15th

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Through the raging storm there was a gentle ringing of bells, as if the stars above the clouds were doing a lightdance. The further up the mountain they got the clearer the sky, the gentler the storm.

It was really true, Dawn noticed. You did feel totally renewed, recalibrated even, after the long hike through the blizzard.

Craft stopped. He had been leading the pack the past hour. Now, as the sun was setting across the other side of the mountains, it was time for a bit of a breather for them all. Time to settle in for the eve, get burrowed in underneath either the low growing mountain birches or in the wedges between the rocks.

Blue the pup, Star and Way started to rearrange the snow at the entrance of the silent rocks as they were called. Meru and Wizard took turns moving all the fallen dry birch branches scattered around to the opening. They would make a great entrance floor as well as firewood for the human.

“Craft, why do I feel so at home around you and at the same time so fantastically in awe?” Dawn sat down next to the large black wolf.

“Dawn, dear”, he cleared his throat. This sort of felt formal and he could not fully understand why. “What you humans over and over again fail to understand is that you can only see in others what you carry in yourself. I sense that you are becoming aware of this more and more though. Like somebody has opened a huge, very heavy, thick door, letting the understanding shine through in to your being. Limitless. Belonging. Part of. Unlimited. I believe that is what you feel. That is home. And awe. Home is this feeling of awe, of limitlessness. This. What you are seeing, feeling, sensing right now.”

She looked up at Craft. The stars were out in the sky. Colours of the galaxies reflecting his being. Focused, welcoming eyes. No fakeness. Oh, how she wanted to feel like this all the time.

”It’s a matter of choice my dear Dawn. Over and over again. Practice making these choices. Every choice matters. Every choice is yours. Give that power to yourself, and you are giving it to others. Now, let’s just enjoy the shooting stars.”

How was it possible to move like this, between a feeling of despair, of being lost to totally belonging?

 

Cecilia Götherström, Dec 15th 2019

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Kringlans Kalender 2019 / Meru’s Wisdom, Dec 13th

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“Tell me, dear human, tell me the story about the trees and the sparkles. About the blindness to the inner light.”

Way curled up next to Dawn this morning after the 13th full moon. The morning the Queen Of Light paced in.

“My dear Red, my dear Way”, Dawn put one hand on the red wolf’s back, feeling the warmth of Way’s breathing spine through the palm of her hand. One. All Dawn could sense was one-ness. Way turned her head towards Dawn, nodding with her eyes to the one-ness-sense.

“ I could tell you the official story of the tree being put indoors, the one we are taught in school, but that’s not right. I felt it already back then in my bones, in every cell of my being,  that it’s just boring, flat, facts.”

“So tell me, dear Dawn, what your heart speaks. Your heart connected to Meru’s Wisdom, connected to all of us.”

Dawn took a moment, gazed through the landscape, soaking it all up with her eyes. Then she began.

“We always revered the tree, the trees. The wisdom unceasingly came to us through them. Then somewhere, gradually, along the line we lost it. We lost the wisdom. We lost the connection. We lost the joy, the spark, the light. Not literally, but we misplaced it. Or maybe it went in to hiding. I don’t know.”

Meru, Star, Elo, Wizard, Craft and Blue the pup joined in. Dawn continued.

“It felt like a long arm reaching out in the dark, grasping, fingers searching, palm sensing. Nothing.

Then somebody remembered the tree. That the tree was the doorway, the gate back to magic, to connection, to light.

She started decorating the trees with sparkles, with stars made of twigs, with shining rocks, with fallen leaves, with adorned pinecones. Gently she felt the light returning inside her heart, her ears, her eyes and soon she even started speaking light. All her words were woven with starlight, connection, silver threads. Alves, the Nisse, giants, trolls, fairies, dwarves, dragons, every being of nature’s realm came out of the perceived darkness, decorating the woods with her. The people of the valley woke up one morning mesmerized with the beauty of the trees, of the serene sense of peace in the woods. They decided they wanted to hold on to this, to bring it indoors.

Little by little they started moving the trees in. Everyone to their own home. Doors closed. One tree in each household. Eyes admiring the beauty. Magic getting sprinkled in their own house. Nisse moved in. He wanted to be the connection between in there and the light of nature out here. It worked for some time. Especially around the 13th full moon. That was a long time ago though.”

“Oh my”, Way replied. “Where and how do we begin with writing the new story?”

“By choosing wisely”, Meru spoke.

 

Cecilia Götherström, Dec 13th 2019

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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

 

 

 

 

 

 

by

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

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