journey

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Earth & Space, 10th of December, Door 10

Photo:Pintrest

The door creaks open. Just a sliver of light touching the ancient wooden floor. On the other side of the threshold the wood meets soft granite stones. Rough surfaces which have been polished by the clatter o feet and paws for centuries, shaping the gentleness of these cold stones in to being.

A shadow, a shape taking form , filling the fragment of morning sun which was just there. Gentle paws touching the squeaky old floor. Alba sits up, throw her legs over the side of the bed while reaching for her wollen socks usually placed right next to the bed with one hand.

“It’s time to wake up for real my dear”, the shadowshapeds voice stir the morning silence. Not even the birds are awake yet.

There they are, the socks. OK. Now, what did she say? What did that dear old little puppy say? “Wake up for real?”

“I am awake”, Alba hear herself say in quite a defensive way, which she immediately blame the early hours for.

“You’re funny”, the wolf chuckles. “As if you have ever been awake for real any longer than three exhales”.

“Crazy, funny, wise always-right soul-companion you are”, Alba shakes her head as she agrees. “Let’s go meet this new day Rosie! I have a feeling it is waiting for us already.”

“As long as you are awake, let us do just that”, the wolf winks.

Author: Cecilia Götherström / Pejuta Wakinyazi

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Transmissions of Starlight / 18

We went into the woods to be baptized by the trees. Over and over again. Bowing under ash, dancing under cedar, reaching for oak, hiding under willow, laughing with pine, sitting under beech, healing through birch, cocooning under elm. Every breath a baptism.

Do you remember how the trees actually found us? You wanted to head for the ocean and I pulled you towards the trees. Do you remember biking under them to get to the open fields? I sang to make you stop and sense them there right underneath their canopy.

Do you remember how their leaves turned yellow, bright, red, golden, orange ? Like they showed us the multidimensionality of every single essence which grows. The sides which turn in the wind and look different from every direction.

Do you remember them bearing fruit? And how every new entry to ,and every exit out of , the woods had its ritual of me devouring at least one of those fruits?

Do you remember that there is actually not a lot to remember aside from that we were, we are, together? That it was how our journey together started? And it will never end. As it is a journey on a thread of many journeys. Might feel like it has a beginning and an end, yet all it has is a continuity. A continuity of that which holds it. Life. Light. Power. The Force.

Do you remember driving through all the trees to find me? To pick me up? How it felt like home once you entered the pine forests? How you loved the birches, ashes, oaks et al and that love turned to passion and homecoming when the pines started lining the road?

That is the continuity I want you to follow. 

The continuity of the continuity of space, passion, life. You. Trinity. Power, Stillness and Presence. Smack right in the continuity of Space, Passion and Life.

If that ain’t an instruction for the New Chapter, I don’t know what is. And I, I know everything. I am Starlight.

Cecilia Götherström, Kringlans AdventsKalender 2022

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Transmissions of Starlight / 11

“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”.

Starlight speaks.

“You are thinking too much. “This is the tale of Moon and Star”. This is what we are living right now. Moon and Star. Star and Moon.

The surroundings might feel the same, but they are not. They never are.

Rather than reflecting what you don’t want, what you don’t want to see, what is missing, just turn the crystal diamond shape a few degrees. Watch it reflect what you want, what you do want to see with your inner heart’s eyes glistening back all the abundance truly surrounding you.

Express the abundance. Acknowledge it. Let it know that  you see it; Thank you house, thank you floor, thank you shoes, thank you windows, thank you health, thank you richness of heart, thank you richness of being, thank you for all possibilities out there, thank you!”

““This is the season of no stone left unturned”. Be curious. Look under every stone. Invite the dragons in to move the stones with you. Discover the moss, the rest, the holding, the fertile darkness where you can. Diligently and intentionally plant all the seeds you want. Give them a chance! Speak them in to being. Wide eyes my child, wide eyes.”

“”This is the time of your ripe uncovering”. The time is ripe for the true uncovering. You know the power of words. You know the movement,  the energy body, the dance of magic spheres, the treasure chest on the inside. Now you speak it. Now you live it. Now. This is the time.”

22,2 degrees south.

““The 22nd parallel South is a circle of latitude crossing the Atlantic Ocean, the Indian Ocean, Australasia, and South America”, Wikipedia says .  It is thus a circle woven by ancient, indigenous and tribal knowledge, creatures of the deep oceans and endless skies, rainforests, deserts, coast, plains, mountains, jungles, forests, beaches. All which symbolizes freedom of the heart for you. Under a slightly different sky then your North Star sky. Yet it does have Starlight. Sirius.”

Cecilia Götherström, Kringlans AdventsKalender 2022

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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 13th 2021

Deep, deep breaths of fulfilled snow loving beings are moving across the floor space. Sleeping, snoozing, resting beings.

“There is a time for rest. There is a time for work. There is a time for play.” The words adorning the embroidered tapestry on the wall above the kitchen couch.

Nejla always felt so much more at home sitting on the ground. There she was, with the cauldron sitting on the floor in front of her. The sleeping four leggeds in a snoring circle surrounding them both.

Out there the sun had set already. It had barely touched the treetops of the high pines today. A few more days and it would be the darkest of the darkest days. Here up north though the dark was just the most magic time of them all. The black velvet serving as presentation platter for the glittering stardust of The Milky Way , of the dancing Aurora Borealis, of the glistening white snow reflecting sacred geometry codes back through the soul portals of every being .

Today was the thirteenth day of the twelfth month. The day of the Fairy Saint, The Queen of Light. This thirteenth day of the twelfth month felt different though. The energy was unlike any other year she could recall. A tangible dimensional shift. A reminder to put your spiritual practice and connection at the forefront of your priorities as the one thing left unbroken, uncompromised.

“Wings of change,” what seemed like the atmosphere spoke through the cauldron. “Winds of change”.

As the words sunk in,  a realization dawned on Nejla .

“We are so busy connecting in to, or copying, what once was that we forget to notice what is. What is here and now. The ceremonies and rituals are to connect in to the energy, not to times gone by as time is not linear. Through these ceremonies and rituals, we connect now, past and present in a holographic ever-present thread. The boundaries are broken. The veils are shattered. We look across and we see ourselves. In what we call past, present and future. But it is the energies that speak. Frequencies.”

“A-ho, my dear”, Storulven spoke. “Now, go sit. Journey. The door is open. The birds are aware. Go sit for 30 minutes, follow the red thread.”

Cecilia Götherström, December 13th 2021.

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Elsa’s Song, Dec 7th 2021

“Can we travel through time with our questions? Is love alive? How many “out there” questions can you have lingering in your head in the space between waking and sleeping? Love can definitely travel through time though. I just know it.”

Watering eyes are glancing out across the landscape. Scarf masking mouth and nose, keeping the blizzard out. Beanie pulled tightly over eyebrows and ears. Nejla has been walking for what feels like hours but it can’t be more than fifteen minutes.

The train had stopped in the middle of the night. A huge tree, an ancient oak, had fallen across the tracks taking part of the overhead line with it as it went down, the conductor had reported over the intercom. The train could not get any further until the tracks were cleared and the overhead lines repaired.

Fortunately Nejla had booked a sleeping carriage for herself, Kriya, Tuva and Starlight.  It was some sight for the passengers boarding the train at the later stations as they passed through the narrow corridors on the way to their carriages. There, in coach  28 D, E, F & G, a woman reading in the top bunk, a husky, a malamute and a samoyed sprawled out on the two lower bunks.

The blizzard moved in less than an hour after the announcement, making it impossible for the railway repair crew to climb the poles to fix the overhead lines until the storm had died down.

The passengers were kept warm with nutmeg spiced gluhwein, steaming hot soup, extra blankets and hot water bottles. Saved by the fact that the kitchen on the train still ran its stove on gas.

Seven hours in to the wait, the dogs really needed to get out. For some reason Nejla had decided to strap on both her own as well as Kriya and Tuva’s backpacks. Starlight was a little too slender for those dogpacks so she’d gotten a smaller one. The only one available in the store that day was a glittery version, originally made for “glamorous poodles’ and not for huskies. But hey, her name was Starlight, so why not!

They stepped out of the train, Nejla planning to follow the tracks ahead, past the fallen tree and check  what the situation was. 

The same insight had guided her to attach the dogs harnesses to each other with the longer skijöring lines as well as attach two of them to her own skijörning harness.

Lumps of ice are beginning  to form on her eyelashes.

Cecilia Götherström, December 7th 2021  

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Kringlans Kalender 2020. Sacred. Part 12. Dec 12th

“Onyx. Onyx is missing. Or not really missing. It is there, the volume just needs to be turned up a bit. Then a bit more. Then maybe a bit more again. Like toning down the rose quartz for now, just making space for some more onyx you know.” Barry’s words – or instructions – travelled in through the wide open front door.

Marcus had been sitting at the grand piano since 5 am. Playing one piece of the symphony over and over again. Something was missing since the second movement, he just could not put his spirit on it.

“Onyx?” Marcus asked.

Barry was really too large to be in the house. He had placed himself outdoors, in front of the porch – had he been on the porch it surely would break from his weight – , having Marcus leaving the door open so that they could have a “clear, straight channel” as they both called it. It was vital that the connection was a straight, wide line. 

Like a bridge. 

Again.

“Yes, Onyx. The colour of darkness. Of pitch black. Of all possibilities possible”, Barry replied.

“Or the colour of death…”, Marcus thought to himself.

“I heard that!”, Barry said. “Isn’t death also a moment, an opening, of all possibilities? You know, some of my friends, the cormorants, say that “humans are so afraid of death that it prevents them from living”. Turn that volume up eh, so that you can really listen to it!”

“Listen to what?”, Marcus noticed a slight irritation in his own voice. “Listen to death? To darkness?”

“A little bit more to the left my dear Marcus. Listen to the emotion attached to those words .”

“Give in to fear?”, Marcus felt perplexed.

“It is not a fight Marcus. It is not about winning, about staying on top of or about giving in or not . There is no right or wrong here. There is only listening. And then turn up the volume of the Onyx, of the listening. Make that listening sacred.”

“Sacred Listening”, Marcus let the words roll over his tongue and soar in his consciousness. “Sacred Listening, Sacred Home….Onyx….Hmmmm…”

Quiet.

He took a deep breath. Looked out through the window. Got up. Walked through the front door. Sat down on the stairs leading off the porch, right in front of Barry.

“Barry, do you know there is a song with the title “What’s Love Got To Do With It”? Maybe it’s time to use the phrase “What’s Fear Got To Do With It?”

“Now you’re getting somewhere Marcus! What’s fear got to do with it! Reply to that one more often! Spin that one in to the symphony. That’s how you get deeper inside life, how we will eventually get Home.”

Onyx.

OK, then.

  • Cecilia Götherström, Dec 12th 2020.
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Kringlans Kalender 2020. Sacred. Part 11. Dec 11th

Another evening on the path following the pawsteps of the little bundle of joy & life force Vayu The Whispering Wolf. They were being guided by Josephiel the Cloud Shrouding White Dragon floating in the air just above them through the valley,  heading towards the Mountain of Stillness and Silence.

Josphiel was of the opinion that wading through deep snow was no dragon business, taking to the wild blue yonder was.

Vayu had hidden a laugh within a yawn as he’d said “Let him believe he’s the one guiding us. There ain’t no better guide in this dimension than this very nose right here”.

Samantha was really enjoying these nightly hikes. They were usually on the move until just before midnight. Then they’d either find or build a shelter. For her, both Josephiel and Vayu were very clear about every time.

“For that somewhat frozen little human”, they would joke daily.

This evening they were getting close to their last hike among the trees. Shelter would probably be just above the treeline.

The glittering snow crystals reflected the Milky Way, or was it the other way around?

“Everything is a reflection”, Vayu said. “All the beauty you see in the world, all the things you reject, criticize or judge, they are all part of your perception reflecting back at you. That is why The Whispers are so powerful. Why you want them on your side. The Whispers are closer to Truth than the words you cover them with when you speak and think loud thoughts covering any possibility to perceive the most perceivable of them all. The Still Whispers of Your Soul. Only in stillness can you hear them. The Whispers.”

“Are you saying that this gorgeousness of diamondy glittery silver lives inside of me too?”, Samantha asked.

“Yes! And do you know what more lives inside of you?… 

Vayu went dead quiet.

“Come on, are you going to tell me?” 

Vayu did not move. He did not even flinch. 

Samantha looked up in the direction his eyes stared. Holy moly…. Was that an avalanche? There was no sound, so there could not be, right?

The sparkly cloud of glittery-moon-reflecting-snow-star-dust rushing down the mountain slope was the size of a jumbo jet.  As the diamond-dust evaporated something took shape where the sparkle settled.

“Mum!”, Josephiel twirled in the air, somersaulted towards them.

Right in front of Samantha and Vayu, the largest, grey-sparkling dragon anyone could possibly imagine.

“Enchanted”, she exhaled. “Mama D welcomes you all.”

  • Cecilia Götherström , December 11th 2020.
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Kringlans Kalender 2019 / Meru’s Wisdom, Dec 4th

Winter_Snow_Fir_Night_509182

“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

 

 

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Return

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In a bag a few minutes ago I found this piece below which I wrote on Jan 10th 2014.
Reading it now, it gives me goosebumps – as giving the turmoil, development, moves and all that has happened the past 2,5 or even 3 years , it is more than symbolic that I wrote this early 2014 and am finding it today – July 12th.

Return

The return is imminent,
faith awaits

Her huge white wings
sweeping me in,
closing out the darkness for now

As the wings open
the dark, velvety night sky is adorned
with galaxies,
light-holes
and wishes turned in whisper

I stand there,
basking in her glow,
listening
to the whispers from now,
the whispers from before,
the whispers that were,
that are,
that will come.

In this place all is one.
There is no then,
no now,
no later.

Is the return really a return?
Or is it an opening of what was always there?

She asks me to open my eyes,
my ears, my heart,
with softness,
with a waiting,
whatever comes in.

A feather falls from the sky
into my hand,
I can feel its softness
caressing my cold palm,
almost making me giggle from the tickling feeling.

I watch the feather
as it turns and turns in my palm,
first slow,
then faster,
and faster.
The spiralling movements
makes it stir up
and away.

The feather has turned in to a huge raven,
first white,

when he takes flight I can see him
shifting in to grey,
then in to black,
his glistening eyes disappearing
with the flapping of his wings
directions Ursa Major.

The wind coming from the pine tress in the back,
bring another whisper,
a song,
an anthem.

There is a vibration from the ground,
I turn around.

The whole forest alive,
waving,
swaying,
gently sining a tune
of return,
of now,
of all never being anything other
than what is now.

A brown bear beckons me to come closer.
She has two cubs at her side.
It feels like I know them,
like I have seen them before,
like we are family.

I look up at the sky,
towards Ursa Major,
where Raven headed,
then look back at Mother Bear.

I return.

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Cecilia Götherström, 10/ 1 2014