The Life of a Water Dragon, Part 1

  • picture from Pintrest

First of Advent – Second of Advent

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.”

  • Cecilia Götherström 2024

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

 

 

Dec 1st, The Promise, Part I

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”And so it begins…”

With amber eyes she caresses every movement my mind makes, living in the depths of my soul as she speaks. With the voice of a mother she holds my intention in hers.

”Outside the comfort zone, new challenge is what it may feel like,” she hums.

” Going deep within, taking on the Journey to fulfill the ancient promise is what it really is. Go my child. Go to come home.”

The wind is suddenly picking up, icy air is turning my ears in to frosty red bundles. My lovikavantar protecting my hands from the cold.

Right here, right now, there is nothing strange at all about sitting in between her front paws, her entire wolfness envelopping me with a beauty my heart has never witnessed before. Right here, right now, the fact that this fluffy raven and I are about to go on what will be a very, very long hike is anything but strange.

”So”, the white wolf whispers. ”You have been here before. It´s the 7th year. 21 days. It is time. They are all here. Meru, Nisse, Bertil, Pe, the dragons, the giants, the trolls, the little people, everyone. 7 years you queens have been building this portal. Dragging stones, moving and planting roots, digging deep, decorating  with dreams, wishes, strength, power. Overwon despeair, dis-ease, grief, moved mountains to get this portal ready. With your magic you have ornamented thesed doors in 4 different ways while remaining as one. It is time to open the gateway. To merge with what is on the other side. To look all your fears in the eye to be able to turn them in to gold. In to gold and silver dust.”

She changes the seat of her paws, softening her gaze, allowing for the moon and the stars to glow through her white coat as she lightly yawns before capturing me in her eyes again.

”These dances have been going on since ancient times, like the swirling breath of of the winter hunters”, she continues. ” Since ancient times some have listened, some have stayed, some have returned, others have not. This time we need to return all together. This time there will be no veil. We all have to do this together. It´s a choice to save not just what we have but what we truly are. It is our last chance to create this New Earth, through returning to the ancient wisdom.”

I know it is time to go. Time to pick up and leave. It is not that I am dreading it, it is more like ”Why? Why is December 1st always the beginning of the next big move? Why can it not just be a soft, glittery, curly and gentle way into the favourite season of the year?”

Raven chuckles. ”You´re funny”. Flapping her wings. ”You know soft, fluffy, gentle and all that won´t go down at all with that inner spirit of yours. We will fluff enough in between journeys, I promise. But now we really have to embark.”

  • Cecilia Götherström, Dec 1st 2018

No more

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He might look like a young, innocent,  devoid of experience, warrior, but he held the wrath and protection of his ancestors. They held his back, his flanks, his future. He walked in their footsteps. In his own way.

The silvery mist was coming off his cape, latched to his shoulders by heavy ornamented armour. His dragon may well be sleeping yet he felt her waking presence. Through the dimensions they were always side by side. One mind. One soul. One being.

Why was it so hard for us humans to live in all dimensions all at once? he asked himself. Why did greed, hatred, fear, possession set as if in stone in this un-magical cold, non sensing world if ours?

The world where we fought over things, countries, people without knowing why. There really was a darker force out there feeding in to all of this.

He moved his hand through his thick, blond hair. Decided then and there to never look back. To always look in to and for those other dimensions from this moment on. To notice where he was being pulled in to the dark, to notice where the scheming seemend to be winning, to notice when it felt like there was no way out.

Love. Faith. Trust. Faith. Trust. Love.
They are all one and the same force.

Faith.

Look. Notice.

Be NoBody, NoOne, NoThing. Tread the paths of the threads between dimensions. Will to see them. Want to live them. There. Bring them in here.
That is magic. That is the magic.

There is no difference between living it, seeing it, being it. It´s there. Just open the eyes. Open the senses. Feel it. Then speak.
Before that words just block.

Sense it. Then speak. From there. From that place.

His father looked over his back.
”Son, my sword is yours. It will cut through all you don´t know that you don´t know, as well as all that which stands in the way. Use it. Sense. Listen. Look. Use it from that place. Now go.”

Cecilia Götherström, October 23rd 2018