joy

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Earth & Space, 14th of December, Door 14

Photo: Pintrest/Samsung

“So many cues, yet it seems you don’t know how to start. Pretty silly actually as how you start is not important. Nothing could matter less. The only thing that matters is that you start”, she says in her matter of fact way,  Do-ris the deer

“It is important to experience joy”, the radio speaks in between.

“And now you jump in to fear and pressure, realizing that no, you probably have not allowed yourself to experience joy the past months, you have filled it all up with the so called important things and joy was not on that list. The only thing you feel now is that you are not even living up to allowing yourself to feel joy. Down in the basement the elevator goes. Oh, was it already in the basement? Hmmmmm…. can it maybe move sideways down there? Bog itself deeper in the mud of pressure and anxiety? No? Not possible? Well, that’s at least awesome!”

Up head the ravens and crows are having their usual dusk discussions. Who is sitting where, in what tree, why, why not, goodnight and all that.

Do-ris is looking out at me from across  the snow filled glen.

“Let your wings unfold, shake them, let them drop around you like a cape filled with the warm holding of all the angelic light beings surrounding you. The entire choir of Sacred Fierceness. It is time to see that only darkness can hold the light, the stars in the sky. And the closer to the light, the lighter the darkness. The darker the darkness, the more intense the light.”

I stand up, reach my arms out and up, swirl, turn, bow.

“Angel wings of open fire. Fill me with my heart’s desire. Numbness leaves this heart of mine. Song of Joy, thy will be done.”

Snowflakes.

Author: Cecilia Götherström / Pejuta Wakinyazi

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Transmissions of Starlight / 6

“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.

Moon and Star. Star and Moon.

Cecilia Götherström, Kringlans AdventsKalender 2022

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Elsa’s Song, Dec 10th 2021

Alabaster sunk his paws deep in to the snow. He’d been up on the rocks, peeking down once more towards Pinehome City. 

They were all together now. Nejla, Starlight, Tuva, Kriya, Ricky and Luca. 

He could see them through his inner eyes. The two humans sitting on the floor by the Christmas tree. Sharing stories. Laughing. Remembering. 

All four dogs sprawled out across the large kitchen floor.

What had once been the “Grand” waiting room in this timber wood train station building from the 1800s was now Ricky’s kitchen.

Alabaster made his way down, returning to the pack. How he loved these moments of approaching, feeling the warmth in his heart, connecting through the golden threads to his brothers, sisters, all the pups. Watching every single personality doing their thing while being in total harmony with the entire canine family.

Sure, they could growl and show off, change, walk off, start anew, return, explore. But that was because that is how things just are.  If everyone is allowed to live out their purpose, harmony is what you get. And harmony includes storms, floods, falling trees, new growth.

 You use the mind, heart, and soul,  leading the body to the best possible solution for the highest good of all.

When you exist in a state of awareness where greed does not exist, you see everything through the eyes of Isa. The eyes of Isness.

He realized he’d let his mind wander in to the human domain again as he felt four youngsters rolling around him, asking for attention, nipping at his legs and paws.

“Come play, come play, Grandpapa Alabaster!”, they howled like a four octave choir.

“OK then!” Alabaster took off down the slope, zigzagging, jumping, rolling. Four young furballs falling over in his paw steps, doing their best to catch up.

A few of the packs hunters had just gotten back from their recon trip and joined in.

If you’ve ever seen a group of eight adult and four “just-out-of-puppyhood” wolves play on deep snow covered slope under the moon, star and sun lit winter morning sky, you know exactly what I am talking about.

Joy, aliveness, speed and wit dancing around in your heart.

Cecilia Götherström, December 10th 2021.

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In my heart of hearts I

Akasha

In my heart of hearts I
hear music
sing to my soul

In my heart of hearts I
am music

In my heart of hearts I
spill in to the world of creation
like a brittle waterfall,
a whiskering wind,
like a tone of love,
of wildness,
of quaking wisdom
shivering out of my bones

In my heart of hearts I
know who I am

In my heart of hearts I
melt into the mother,
become the father

In my heart of hearts I
am the speck of oneness,
the soul who is the muse,
the giver of joy,
simultaneously

In my heart of hearts,
there is no stopping me,
No boundaries,
no beginning,
no ending,
in my heart of hearts

In my heart of hearts I
look deep into the brown-yellow eyes
of the enormous white wolf
in the mirror
looking back at me,
eyes full of tenderness,
eyes full of knowing,
soul full of worship

In my heart of hearts I
come home
to who I am,
to who I was,
to who I am to be,
simultaneously.

Cecilia Götherström, Nov 5th 2015
Thank you Roger Housden for the writing prompt!

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Rich

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I am rich.

Rich beyond belief,
beyond fathom, I am.

I am because I am rich.

Mother provides for me,
Father keeps me safe,
Brother nurtures me,
Sister sings to me.

Earth is what I am,
what I walk upon,
what lives inside my soul.

Sky is what breathes,
Soil is what bleeds,
Wind is what feels.

Rich I am.

All that I am,
is all that You are.

Star family, Earth family.

Rich I am.

Walk I do.

Forever and ever.
In the Richness of Plenty.

“Did you love today?” she asks before
she gently susses me to sleep.

“Were you grateful today?” he asks when
he closes the velvet around me.

“Did you live today? Live like life itself?”
they ask as they sing me away.

Dawn and dusk.
Dusk and dawn.

Creation.
Gratitude.
Breath.

Did you love today?

I did.

IMG_9343

Cecilia Götherström, June 21st 2015

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I am sorry House

Blog4 Blog2

I am sorry House,
that I could not love you.

My heart was closed,
too busy holding on to pieces,
already broken
I was.

I could not see,
your tender care,
your solid hold,
you doing what you do best,
shelter.

I could not feel
warm, ancient soil
underneath my feet
lifting pine trees to the sky
welcoming crystal white covers
to carry us into the depths of the woods
in the company of ravens, eagles, moose and myths.

I was not hearing
the soaring air,
the speaking winds,
the soft whispers of comfort,
the Soul of the land
speaking to my broken soul.

My heart could smell,
could touch the sun,
could caress the moon,
sing with wolves and wonders
– but not under your roof.

I am sorry House,
for not living
while I inhabited your space.

I am sorry House,
for just grieving
in your warm arms.

I am sorry Mountain,
for loving you more
than I love myself,
for finding life, joy, wonder and purpose
on your hilltops.

I am sorry Mountain,
for capturing your soul into mine,
for the bliss of oneness
which only you know.

I am sorry Mountain,
that I cannot live that gift, that passion
for now and ever after more.

If anyone will ever ask,
I shall say;
The Mountain holds my Soul.

Cecilia Götherström, May 7th 2015

Blog5

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The Song Of Me

Song of me1

The Song of Me,

flies over snow covered mountains,

sings a spring time creek to its cover.

The song of me,

crosses hearts and barriers,

opens, moves and births.

 

The song of me,

is for no one else to sing,

but to blend in to

the song of all of us.

 

The song of birth, of cry, of worship,

of destinations

time and again.

 

The song of me breaks open,

moves crystals and rocks

into blessings.

 

The song of me cracks open,

that which is to be said,

to be done,

to be laid down,

to be rendered,

reunited,

rewed,

regained, retwined, regranded.

 

The song of me,

sings to the eyes of the soul

to the song of the gods

the eyes of the stars.

 

The song of me is the soul,

the spare, the twining twister,

the ever splendid galaxy of tears,

of joy,

of magic,

of serenity,

of wisdom,

of class and doom.

 

The song of me

is mine to sing,

thine to hear,

ours to twine

and twine and twine.

 

The song of me,

is of me strong,

of me being creation,

of me being all.

 

The song of me,

is of All.

 

The song of me

is you,

the you that is not

as me is.

I am

the song of me

 

Divine

 

 

Song of me2
Cecilia Götherström, Gävle 13/3 2015