akasha talking

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Earth & Space, 9th of December, Door 9

Photo: Pinterest

There’s something about reindeers. Something about mountain goats. There’s something about the star in the sky. Something about The Milky Way. There’s something about light studded on a velvety clear sky. Something about mist and steam and ice and water. There’s something about waking up. Something about magic. There’s something about rest. Someting about taking stock. About making space. About clearing. About giving. About receiving.

Giving and Receiving is the same action, she told me last year. The Law of Reciprocity is something entirely different. Obligation versus living. What would you choose?

“Giving and Receiving is living under The Law of Abundance”, she brings across from the other side.

Abundance as a Law? Now, that’s a new concept all together.

“The sky, the reindeers, Orion, North Star, the mountain goats, the mist and steam and ice and water. Waking up in the morning. Rest and taking stock. Space. That is all Abundance right there. Living under The Law of Abundance simply means recoginizing that. Recognizing that everything you connect with is there. Right there. In the abundance of life. You can see it, hear it, feel it, taste it, smell it, even imagine it. That.”

Like the snowy white water dragon she puffs through the veils. She is there, with Space. She is here, in these keys on the keyboard. She’s in the voice thinking, typing, singing. She is.

Water Dragon, Space Dragon, Winter Dragon.

How did the wolves get celestial this year?

“Because of magic, my child. Because the energy of the world is held by dragons this time year this season. Because the wolves are you. Protected and enlightened by the dragons. What that means in practice is to come. Just be open these coming forthnights. Be aware and be open.”

Author: Elsa, Cecilia Götherström / Pejuta Wakinyazi

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Transmissions of Starlight / 2

Moon and Star. Star and Moon.
The first language was song.
The first language was light.
Eclectic.

She shone in my shadow and I shone in hers.
Always.

Shadow and Light. Light and Shadow.

Moon and Star. Star and Moon.

Clouds swirling consciously around the unconscious brain. Tides resisting the glow.
The old, the dark, the grey. To be lifted forever.
It will be painful they said.
But what is pain?
It is what you feel when you don’t shine your light.

Star and Moon. Moon and Star.

The crescent uncovered. The sparkle looking down, connecting.

Clouds dancing.

Cold, yet not cold enough.
Wet, murky, rotten.
Waiting for the true embrace bywinter.

Will it come? Will it ever come again?
The magic of sparkle.
Of the here and now.
Of taking new direction while simultaneously being direction.

Moon and Star. Star and Moon.

Sharing the same sky, the same heavens. Being light. Being song. Being magic. Being direction. Being.

Being Star. Being Moon.

The first language is still song. The first language is still light.

Moon and Star. Stars and Moon.

Like pearls being born through filigree silver and Milky Way woven grandeur, like horses and unicorns swooshing through the green clouds of the Northern Lights with its purple shades dancing above the snow covered peaks and steppes, Moon and Star dance through the dark velvet seeing All and Every-thing.

Sometimes the shadows come out to make sure you remember.

Star and Moon. Moon and Star.

Always remember.
Always.
Live now.

The sun sets and rises.
The moon travels.
The Star adorns.

The Trinity.

Sun. Moon. Star.

This is the tale of Moon and Star. This is the season of no stone left unturned. This is the time of your ripe uncovering.

Sun. Moon. Star.

Sun is Star.
Star is Sun.
Moon is reflection.

Star and Moon. Moon and Star.
What will be will be.
What is, is.



Cecilia Götherström, Kringlans AdventsKalender 2022
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Transmissions of Starlight / 1

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”.

Cecilia Götherström, Kringlans AdventsKalender 2022

If I am really honest in my heart of hearts
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If I am really honest in my heart of hearts

If I am really honest, in my heart of hearts I
will soar like a bird,
touching the snow covered mountain tops.

I will run downhill

paws deep in the mud,
grass
and moss

like a wolf,
chased by the wind, embraced by
moving space,
scents, a whiff

on a hunt

not for food but
for play,
for life,
for joy.

If I am really honest, in my heart of hearts I
will sing to the dawn, dance
in the shadows of morning
and eve.

I will not
succumb to this mediocre
numbness of
sitting
not to be sitting but
to be seated
where someone put you.

If I am really honest,
in my heart of hearts there is
no resistance,
no pull,
no push,
no tug,
no moving,
without purpose.

Like a reed in the wind,
its movement its purpose.


If I am really honest,
in my heart of hearts I will
throw out all the blankets,
the cushions,
the pillows and
their safety-nets.

In there, in my heart of hearts
is she,
her,
it,
them,
this,
whatever opens,
whatever closes

holding a candle,
enjoying the flickering of the
light,
the wind,
the rain,
the snow,
the sea,
the cold,
the sun,
the wintery, wintery skies.

If I am really honest, in my heart
of hearts

that mountaintop
is my home,
those woods my
backyard, my pantry
that river, my blood.

I sit there,
having chosen
to sit there
myself.

I live there.

Having chosen to live there
myself.

I breathe there,
having chosen to be there,
myself

In my heart of hearts.



Cecilia Götherström, April 23rd 2022
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Elsa’s Song, Dec 18th 2021

The woman’s weathered hands moved across the ancient wand. 

To the untrained eye the object looked like a shrivelled up piece of wood. 

To Disa it had been obvious the first time her eyes met it that it was anything but wood. Being a blend of onyx, shungite, white alabaster, rock crystal and lava from the inner core of Mother Gaia, swirled together in a spiral like pattern it was an extremely magic wand. The Dragon Wind Wand. One of the most powerful instruments to ever grace the Earth plane, even though no instrument had any true power without intent.

Disa had noticed how some of the birdseeds in her garden had sprung out. How they had managed to do that, outside in the cold, on the thick layer of snow and ice covering the ground, was mystery to behold. Unless it was due to the bright light coming in from the galactic suns during the short days. Magic light for magic sprouts? 

Nejla and Ricky’s sleds had come to a halt. They had travelled throughout the early morning. At 3 am they had packed up, moved on for a few hours underneath the Ursid meteor showers. Now at 6.30 am it was time for a nap before the bright red and golden sun dawned. 

A deep sigh from the dogs spread through the quiet air. What seemed like just as deep a sigh sounded out from the surrounding woods seconds later.

“Light is the first cause, and every second cause is its shadow”, Maddy the Mighty stretched out like only cats can.

‘What’s that?” Ricky turned and looked at the cat.

“Oh, just something this pretty connected guy Rumi I once knew very well used to say”. Maddy curled up.

“How old are you Maddy?” Nejla asked.

“Ancient. Not that it matters though”, Maddy replied opening one eye. “Let’s just keep what the dude Rumi said in mind once we wake up with the sun after this nap OK? You will see. Oh yes, you will see.”

“Did you know I was about to name the second lead dog Rumi?” Ricky turned towards Nejla. “But he insisted on being called Kabir instead”.

Nejla could not help laughing out loud. “I always thought it such a weird combination of names and energies  with Thor and Kabir in the lead, but Thor and Rumi surely would have been outrageously weird.”

Another sigh from The Crew and The Pack. Time to snooze.

Disa picked up The Dragon Wind Wand.

Cecilia Götherström, December 18th 2020

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Elsa’s Song, Dec 17th 2021

17. 1 and 7. 1 plus 7. 8.

Oneness. Magic. Infinity.

The three dragons soared above the mountain tops. There, underneath the sheath of mist, as well as in the other world underneath the ice, two different realities took place. Yet they were still the same.

Through The Valley of Thorns the humans, canines and the one feline were led by the great Alabaster. The whitest of white wolves ever to walk this surface.

Underneath the ice, in the river running through the valley, sparks of wisdom, sparks of Isness started to move, warming up, melting and cracking the ice. In some parts it began to break open.

Oneness, Magic and Infinity were also known as The Trinity of The Dragonhood. The spells had woken them up, calling them in to this dimension. The Adventurer was about to be embodied again. Even though her body had left 15 months ago her soul and presence were everywhere. It was just that the humans forgot to tune in from time to time. Oneness, Magic and Infinity were sort of her knights here on earth whenever the humans needed to be reminded to connect in to what is already there.

I know, if you are a human reading this right now you are most likely saying “if the dragons are soaring and the presence of The Adventurer is everywhere, how can I connect “in”? Shouldn’t  I connect to all of that outside of me?”

And that’s just it dear human, nothing is outside of you. All and everything is inside of you. The universe is in you. You are not in the universe. All, all, all, my dear human is a mirror. A reflection. Of you, you, you. You are me, I am you, we are us, we are they, they are us.

Oneness. Magic. Infinity.

I might be called Storulven, I might be your guide at times, and your times might feel like eons. But I am you. You are me. We are all aspects of The One.

Nejla, looked to her left. They were moving really fast through this valley. It felt like someone was tugging at them, pulling them through and they were not to stop. Something  had moved her to look to her left. Thick branches surrounded them on the right side, less thick, lower brush grew on the left side. She heard a noise of ice cracking. A humming sound. Like thousands of little voices singing “Om” arising through the cracks in the ice on the other side of the bushes.

“Go, go, go!” Ricky shouted. His pack was moving faster than ever. He turned his head looking back at Nejla and The Crew. “Pick up speed sister dear! Now!”

The Crew sped up. Nejla felt a slight tingle in the back of throat, a slight jump of the heart in to higher gear, for the first time since she embarked on this trip of allowing the journey to unfold. To her left a huge light shone, like fire.

The Fire Dragons had woken up. 

Little sparks of wisdom had collectively opened up the portal of centuries thick ice. 

The air filled with fierce, sparkling Fire Dragons.

Cecilia Götherström, December 17th 2021. 

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Elsa’s Song, Dec 16th 2021

As the sun is rising over the suburb and  the castle walls, spreading its morning fire over the rooftops, she speaks gently with a whisper from within her very being.


“Look at all the gold”, she says. “It is dancing on the street, in my fur, inside your heart.It is dancing within our connection”.

I see it. I really do see it! 

Thanking her, I reach down to her height, gently caressing one of her ears. Soft, gingerbread scented, furry red and white ears. She speeds up a bit. Time to go home. There is always a snack and a cuddle after the morning walk so it is time to get the priorities straight.
As we cross the street full of stressful morning commuters she slows down again. She speaks.

“Infuse a bit of sacredness in to everything you do, into every act.” She smiles and speeds up again.



“Sacredness is the key to so many doors”, Starlight explains as Nejla, The Crew, Maddy, Ricky, Luca & The Pack are in anything but a hurry getting everything sorted for the days trek. They are all enjoying the fresh morning air, the rising sun, the warm open fire crackling, the coffee & porridge scent, the dried meat and fish for the four leggeds, and basically just sharing space. Hanging out. In a way it feels like they don’t need to go anywhere, yet the adventure spirit is tugging to move on. Just a bit ahead. Without a real goal. Just to check what is next. While being present with what is.

“I think I just sprinkled my coffee with sacredness”, Nejla jokingly replied.

“I think we just spice every breath with sacredness”, Ricky said while jumping up and down after his dip in the hole he’d made in the ice, initially to fish for the dogs and Maddy.

“Every breath already is sacredness”, Thor the lead dog of Ricky and Luca´s pack barged in, grabbing the last piece of oatmeal porridge left in Nejla’s bowl on the ground. “All you need to do is notice it.”


From in between the trees Alabaster was watching this morning ritual of this “band of relatives” like he´d loving started to refer to them after his last conversation with Snowflake. He was there in the shadows to guide them safely through the Valley of Thorns, which is where they were heading next. It was the only way through to get to the higher ranges. 

The mist of transformation had started spreading out  from the narrow passage way already.

A small, blue butterfly flew through the air, circling the two sleds.



Cecilia Götherström, December 16th 2021

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Elsa’s Song, Dec 1st 2021

“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.

“We are all blessings”. Elsa’s song begins.

December 1st 2021, Cecilia Götherström