“The journey of happiness, sadness and gratitude is the gift underneath the mistletoe. When you mistake that one for the truth of who you really are, that’s when sadness wins.”
Peaking in to the depths of the cold water, she saw and heard the reindeer speak behind her, his breath creating crystals of frozen dampness in the space surrounding them.
“See, I speak on an exhalation and draw inspiration on the inhalation.”
She turned around. Placed her hands around his beautiful, large, wise cheeks. Touched her nose to his. As she said “thank you” she noticed herself becoming that “thank you”.
“Where you end and your words begin is unclear. As there is no division. How you speak so it is and so you are and so it is. Just never ever stop. Never stop as a habit. Always stay in tune with where you are, to the movement. Follow the breath, follow the heart.”
The standstill of the past times was no more. She could feel it release.
“Feel it, let go, let loose, literally loosening its grip. There is nothing to grasp any more. Nothing to hold on to.
Holding on to hurts. Moving brings flow, brings fluidity, brings choice. If you freeze in the middle of a storm you are left to endure whatever is thrown at you and you will most likely be thrown around yourself. If you can move with the storm, with the debris, you feel the storm build and subside, you can move, take a step further out when you want and need to and you can utilize the power of the storm when you need it.
You humans have forgotten how to utilize the tremendous natural powers within you, the tremendous powers of nature. It happened when you all decided to put poles in the ground and stay in one place. All of a sudden you needed protection, shelter, locks and bolts. So you bolted up your heart and your joy in the process. Go release, go girl, go!”
The reindeer turned around and danced his gentle way towards the trees on the bank of the frozen river. She watched him disappear in the distance, feeling a sense of glimmer and hope of something similar to fulfilment for the first time a very, very long while.
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.
"Gentle, gentle, gentleJust love me.Kind, generous, loving,
fierce.Listen to the bodies,
for they hold our souls.
Letting soaryour wisdom
out there,
like angels’ wings,
unheeded.
The body is old,
the mind is not.
I will not be here forever,
in this body,
in this pod.
Just love me.
Love me for the Love I am.
Love me for the sacredness,
of life,
of dark of light,
of shadow and sun.
Love me for the tender stubbornness
of which I am.
Here, there and everywhere.
Gentle, gentle, gentle
Be-ing, Isness,
All.
Gentle, gentle, gentle
To the very core.
Wolf’s paw
or pup.
Cat
or cow.
Gentle they touch the earth,
fierce they live their life,
fully,
in every breath.
Gentle, gentle, gentlejust love me,
discover,embody that."
Sung through the breath of perfection and snooze, her words very thinly danced in on the page. They had knocked on the heart and the door opened she guided the pen, sang her song in the ether, the space of space, the Akash. She, who is still here. The Sister. The beloved. The Soul.
Dusk is approaching, stars adorning the velvet blue sky.
Stars.
Hjärta. Stjärna. Pepparkaka.
– Cecilia Götherström (and Elsa), December 9th 2021
The darkness of the winter morning holds a cocoon. Nejla embraces the coolness of the bedroom air mixed with the warm welcoming of her worn out snowboard-socks.
Minutes later, cup of warm team with milk and honey in hand, her mother’s knitted scarf wrapped around her waist and another one around her shoulders, she is in the garden. Inhaling the new day. It is ceremony time.
The morning star is not alone in the sky this time of the year. You could say there’s a family, even a tribe of a truly interconnected web of morning stars. One shining brighter than the next, yet noone stealing the light from the other. Every single light source enhancing each other. Every breath a pulsation of light against the soft darkness of the multiverse.
“There are stars which are no stars, and there are skies which are no skies. There are no terms and conditions on creation. Just because we have named something from our perspective, looking in one direction, does not mean that is the way it is.”, Nejla spoke, pondering, to the winter air.
“What would it take to be a sadhu?” Nejla thought to herself. “What would it take to be a choice. A choice to just experience the here and now? To stop, to stay, to watch through the veils. Noticing that sometimes they are sturdy blinds and other times the velis dissipate in front of your eyes as you observe them? To be someone not going anywhere physically and ambitionally all the time, but expanding from within?”
“It would only take that. A choice. The choice. You see, magic is a choice too.”
The voice seemed to come from the winter breeze. In the shifting light of the morning sun approaching from the east and the dense snow clouds moving in from the north a little sparkle started to manifest right in front of her eyes.
FlowerOfTheThunderAndLightning 