kringlans kalender

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Kringlans Kalender 2020. Sacred. Part 14. Dec 14th.

Marcus was floating in that space between dreaming and waking. He felt like a feather swirling through space, gently landing on a soft, soft deep- sleep – breathing wolf belly. He felt the warmth, he heard the breath, he was one with that fuzzy, thick winter fur there in his featherness for a while.

“Oh, if I could grasp this and put it in the symphony”, a thought drifted through his mind. He woke up.

“Nooooo, I want to go baaaaaack”, he stretched out under the duvet.

“The grasping brought you back”, Barry’s voice from outside the bedroom window. “Just lean in to that tune again, drift on the first octave, let yourself be featherly carried and you can go back. Through any music.”

Barry had taken the habit of sleeping under Marcus bedroom window. That way they could both breathe in symphony he’d said. Marcus quite often got the feeling that the polar bear took finishing writing this symphony even more serious than he himself did.

“OK”, Marcus said. “I am awake already. Might as well get up and get out. I am done with this onyxing. I can hear the moonstones calling.”

“That can only mean one thing”, Barry’s voice now came from the front door. “There is just one way to journey to the place where we meet all the moonstones. Make sure to pack more than lunch my dear Marcus.”

Marcus made his staple breakfast of oats, apricots, bananas and nuts for himself, a full side of smoked salmon with some dried lingonberries for Barry. Sat down out on the porch with the bear as they both watched a full show of Northern Lights making its way through and around the Milky Way. It was 3 minutes past 3 in the morning. No moon.

“New Moon today”, Marcus said. “I guess there could not really be a better time to start the journey to the moonstones. I mean, we finished quite some chapters yesterday, both the movements for the symphony and the heavy chapters for the book”.

“You are so right my dear WolfHearted Human of the Wilderness”, Barry replied. “I can sense that our guides are not very far from here. They heard the cry of readiness in your dream as you landed and started on their last leg this way already.”

Marcus had just finished making what Barry had called “not just a lunch package”, closed his backpack, got his “good walking shoes” out as he called them, staff in hand – no clue why, but he felt he’d needed what his neighbour Gina called “the witching wizard’s staff” for this walk. It was a pretty long staff which Star had found in the river when she was just a little puppy. She’d pulled it out of the water with all her might and dragged it up to the house. Put it in front of his feet. He smiled at the memory as he tied it to the backpack.

A howl. Quiet. Then a choir of howls. Through the treeline at the back of the house he could see countless eyes shining in the dark. One large, grey wolf stood out front. The rest of the pack waited in the trees.

“Our guides are here”, Barry waved at Marcus with his head and then gestured towards the family of greys.

  • Cecilia Götherström, Dec 14th 2020.
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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 2020. Sacred. Part 10. Dec 10th

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Star.

Star in the heart.

Beam.

So connected.
Me and you.

Love stronger than water.
Love stronger than ice.
Love more solid than rocks,
than meteorites
sparkling, splitting, hitting
this Earth,
emanating it with
Love, Love, Love.

That Fierceness,
That Fierceness between your shoulder blades,
move it forward,
move it to your heart,
let it blaze that beam out,

of Star
of Love
of Sacred, sacred Love
of Fierceness
of Power
of Song
of Celebration
of Connection unsurpassed.

In honour of the two of us,
nothing breaks Star
or her Star,
nothing stops that beam,
that straight
straight
bridge

of solid Love,
of heart cracked open,
exploded
into splinters.

Making space.
Space.
For all that is
and was
and wishes to be.

To rest.
Rest in that Space.
Eternally.
As it already is.

Feel it,
Sense it,
Receive it.
Let it explode.
Do not hold back.

Star.

A power so strong.
No darkness can
Withhold the fierce force of
Light.

Star.
Beam.
Beam of StarLight.
Straight out through your heart.
In to mine.
In to All that Is.
All that We Are.

All.
All.
All.

Now.

Be.
Be Sacred.
Be Fierceness.

Star

– Cecilia Götherström, December 10th 2020.

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Kringlans Kalender 2020. Sacred. Part 7. Dec 7th.

Samantha remembered the many times she had spoken to her sister Disa about stuff which just felt “weird”. Like you felt something in your gut, your mind made an interpretation of it which made you feel queasy and awkward. 

Well, right now she could not shake that very feeling.

Her thoughts took her back to a day about a year ago when she’d met up with Marcus for a coffee at the local church café – the only café in the village. 

Over two chai lattes Marcus shared with her how his beloved Star had been acting the past few days – not wanting to come all the way indoors, rather sleeping on the carpet in the hallway than on her specially built own “wolf-couch” which he had constructed for her now that she had entered her “olden” days. It was like she was halfway out of the house which had been her home for the past 12 years. Their home.

Samantha had gotten that feeling,  the uneasy stomach, the rambling legs, the itchy sitting bones, the queasiness. She knew something was not right, something was about to dawn. Change.

She’d told Marcus they’d better drive up to his house immediately.

When they arrived the front door was wide open. Star was nowhere to be seen. They followed her paw prints in the snow. Down past the barn where the three Icelandic ponies stayed during the winter nights. Then up, towards the birch forest which led to the glen at the beginning of the fir tree forest. At the start of what Marcus always called “his path”.

In the now full moon lit opening Star lay on her belly, holding her head up, looking their way, as if she had expecting them for quite some time. Her dark eyes gleaming, the first stars on the sky reflecting back.

Dusk was setting in and it was clear that Star was not well. At least that was Samantha’s interpretation.

She and Marcus kneeled down next to Star. Star looked them deep in the eyes and spoke to them ; 

“It is time for me to leave this dimension now. Merge with all the others. Do not try to follow me. I will be back one day. Maybe in a different shape or form, maybe in the same. Don’t look for me. For if you do you will not see me. Just listen. Listen inside and remember to be wild, to stay wild. Thank you dear Marcus. My soul is calling me home. Even though we have our home together there is a Home much larger than we can fathom. I will go over there and find it. Bring it back.”

The majestic white wolf stood up, licked Samantha’s hands, looked her in the eyes. Then she went over to Marcus. Put her nose on his forehead. Rolled her head to rest on his neck. He grabbed on with both arms. Embraced her. She breathed in to his ears, in to his eyes, she nudged his forehead again and said;

“Be strong my brave warrior. Be fierce. Be Love. Live your life Sacred.”

She turned around, walked with her head down in to the woods in her full wolfness, on to the moonlit Path.

  • Cecilia Götherström, December 7th 2020.
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Kringlans Kalender 2020. Sacred. Part 6. Dec 6th

Touch. Meeting. Fierceness.

Sacred.

Sacred Touch.

Sacred Meeting.

Sacred Fierceness.

Home.

Marcus was walking between the pine trees. Following path leading from the back of the house up to Beaver Lake. Here he could always take everything in. Listen. Listen to the whispers of his soul. Something his Great Ma had taught him to do.

Great Ma was not his grandmother by bloodline. She was the Grand Mother for everyone living scattered on this large space of land of mountains, streams, lakes, waterfalls, peaks, rocks, woods and wilderness. She was like the moon – always there, always still yet so powerful, always present. She had taught all the kids in school how to listen to The Whispers Of The Soul. 

When she retired from her position as woodwork, arts, crafts and music teacher at the village school she started giving drumming lessons in the village hall on Saturday mornings. Drumming and jojking.

Those Saturday mornings they had learned how to drum the questions, how to listen and then jojk or sing the answers as they came in.

Sacred Touch.

Sacred Meeting.

Sacred Fierceness.

The first two parts had moved in like pieces from a mystic veil. The last part, placed like a statement in the snow.

Marcus kept following the path. Stars started to fill up the sky as the sun disappeared behind the treetops, making way for the moon. He knew he had only scratched the surface. The phrases were an invitation to dig deeper, an instruction to plunge.

Symphonies never took plunges. They had crescendos, build ups, cross overs. Never plunges.

He was afraid that he would lose himself if he plunged. As soon as that insight hit him he stopped, sighed, raised his hands up to catch a few soft snowflakes falling off the pine branches.

“The soul lives in the unknown. It’s never happy, nor supposed to live in the known of the mind. It’s supposed to live in the heart. And the heart can only be fully open when you are open to fall. Fall to Grace. Fall in Love. Fall Over. Fall.”

He heard Great Ma as if she was speaking from the space between the pine needles, the space inside the pine cones.

“Keep walking son. Keep following her footsteps. Remember in your heart where she wanted to go, what she wanted, what gave her joy, what made her strong, what released her, remember and follow that”, the voice spoke to his entire Beingness.

Her name. He had to speak her name out loud to be able to reach that magic again. Why was it so hard to do that?

Home.

He just wanted to call her Home.

He fell to his knees in the snow, laid down on his belly making a snow angel, his face buried in the snow. He rolled over. Lay on his back, caught falling snow flakes with his tongue like when he was a kid, watched the stars, the tops of the firs moving back and forth, back and forth, covering and revealing, covering and revealing.

That was it! Covering and revealing. Covering and revealing!

“Star”.

He spoke her name out loud.

“Star!”

  • Cecilia Götherström, December 6th 2020
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Kringlans Kalender 2020. Sacred. Part 5. December 5th 2020

Image: “Seek” by the amazing Ravynne Phelan – https://www.ravynnephelan.com.

“What you seek is seeking you. What you ssssseek isssss seeeeeking youuuuuhhh…”

The whispers carried through the air to the tree stump where Samantha was sitting observing the morning star making its presence intensely clear in the dawn sky.

She looked around in all directions. Where did that voice come from?

“What you seek is seeking you…”

Was it the air that spoke? No, it was the space which had the possibility for air that whispered.

“What you seek is seeking youuuuuuu….”

“What am I seeking?”, Samantha asked herself quietly. “If I don’t know what I am seeking, then how can I ever meet what is seeking me?”

“Girl, you’ve got to keep turning those stones in your heart over. Get the churning going so to say.” Josephiel lifted his gigantic dragon head up from below the fresh snow cover he was resting under.

“Churning and turning?” Samantha felt a little bewildered.

“Yeah, it’s all physics! Or chemistry! Or… Whatever! It’s all vibration!”, Josephiel replied. “Everything moves, nothing is stuck, nothing is ever still – except stillness itself then, but that’s a different story and dimension. Pardon the side track but yeah, things can feel clogged at times yet never ever forever if you just get movin’. And you can always, always change the rhythm, stir things up, slow things down. Simply, be the vibration. Then you can hear. Hear what is calling you and call in what is essentially calling you. There’s your meeting!”

Vayu the little bundleball of a wolfpup was waking up too, yawning his great morning yawn.

“Exquiiiiizzzze me while I go sing my morning song to all the stars and all the moons”. He stretched, shook the snow off his tail and took off towards the frozen river bank.

“Go join him Sister”, Josephiel nudged to Samantha. “He is your heartkingdom and you are his. Go sit next to him in stillness as he serenades. In that stillness you understand the turning, the churning, the calling and the welcoming. Sacred is the stillness. Holy is your meeting. Gorgeous is the morning hour, for that is where all is revealed, all is understood, all is unspun. Concious Dawn is the most important practice for each human heart.”

Samantha ploughed her way through the knee deep snow following the skipping wolf pup. What a joy his body projected! Would she feel the same if she skipped down to the river too? Only one way to find out, right?

Vayu turned around and challenged her to sprint. 

“Sacred Fierceness” the wind in the air in the space whispered.

  • Cecilia Götherström, Dec 5th 2020.
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Kringlans Kalender 2020/ Sacred. Part 3. December 3rd.

“Sacred Touch. Sacred Meeting.”

He heard the words as if they were alive, dancing in space in the room, sliding around the Christmas tree still waiting to be decorated, floating over the grand piano where he was sitting, caressing the keys of the instrument like he was moving his fingertips through her fur. Gently, carefully, lovingly, with an intent to listen to the music of her presence, the one thing which would open his heart up wide. With her, everything had been possible. With her, his whole life – and not just his work – had become a symphony.

People had called him crazy, taking in a 60 kg rescued wolf in his house when he already spent close to a full work day behind the piano quite often seven days a week. How would he have time for the hours of movement, care and attention this animal required ?

But he knew. The minute he had looked in to her eyes, he knew. This was it. Why he was here on this earth. Why she was here on this earth.

The magic he felt under his fingertips when playing the piano, the magic which spun its way in to human hearts and living room speakers, came from the wild, from the habitat which she was. 

Together they had roamed many nights under the stars in the snow, many days up and down the mountains during the light months of the year, spent many mornings down at the lake fishing in each their own way.

“Sacred Fierceness”.

The words danced around him again. He felt in his soul abode that it was her. She was speaking to him from the other side of the veil. The way the words moved there was no other possibility.

The past months since he’d lost her, he found himself more misplaced than ever. 

Not even the music could lead him back. For months his state of mind was in a place of constant straying.

Then, one morning, a strange looking half grey, half white feather swirled down from the rooftop, landed in his morning coffee as he was sitting on the porch looking for the meaning of that day with all his might. 

The way the feather danced was the beginning of this new symphony he was working on right now.

Home.

He had wanted to call it Home. Yet the word “Sacred” kept coming up. Wherever he looked, whatever he did, whatever he read, whatever he listened to, the word was there. 

He got the hint. Named the symphony “Sacred Home”. 

Yet right now he was in a place where his heart felt a need to become unbroken before he could continue with what he’d worked on these last three days since the feather had landed.

“Marcus?”

Gina, his only neighbor, peaked in through the front door. Bob, the Labrador, as always right next to her.

 “Did you write the words “Sacred Fierceness” in the snow out front?”

Cecilia Götherström, Dec 3rd 2020. 

Kringlans Kalender / Meru’s Wisdom, Dec 21st

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Raidho.

Strong rune of protection. Thor´s rune, some said. The rune of travelling, moving forward, making a good move. The rune of order, of structure, of overcoming difficulties.

Meru smiled. Star sighed. The runes had spoken to the human again this the last morning of the old.

She was protected, divine shelter beaming out through the five wolf hearts, spinning gold and silver stardust threads around “their” human.

Dawn felt different.

She’d woken up this morning with a voice inside her saying “you are a different person now. As you walk out the door of this morning you are an entirely new one. Your road is paved with shining bricks, with talking dust, with warm loving moss wherever you go. You just make sure you follow the calling now. That you listen.”

She’d cast the runes at breakfast, knowing she would not cast the second one until they were ready to embark on the next step.

Wizard and SilverGrey were all set for them to unite, to go meet up with DragonWhite and Elo at the outskirts of the village. So they all took off together.

At the edge of the valley, where the first house since the abandoned barn where the whole Nisse clan lived stood, they stopped. Wizard was preparing to get another cloak out of the saddlebag, this one gold and bluestone woven, for Dawn. She stopped him right then and there.

“Wizard, dear Wiz, I am not sure I am ready for this. Not sure I want this. I still feel the pull of the trees, the pines calling me. I would much rather just go hang in the woods for another few weeks, months, years…”

“Would you really?” Meru asked her. “Or are you just resisting what you know is your gift to do? Reach inside, ask yourself, take time, listen. Pinecones and moonstones.”

Way nudged Dawn to sit down, resting her red wolf head in the humans lap.

Dawn closed her eyes, travelled inwards. Found herself in a chariot with the man of the rune. Him giving her the reins and jumping out to the sound of a powerful storm. Thunder and lightning changing in to hail, then to snow, to soft winds placing large snowflakes gently on the ground. Dawn landed the chariot in the softness. Stepped out. Allowed Wizard to cloak her in the bluestones silver and gold woven robe. She listened to the whispers of the wind. She opened her eyes.

There, right in front of her, the whole wolf pack lined up. Her heartfamily.

And Wizard. The most “heavenly” Father anyone could ever have. Presenting her with her purpose, cause and future on outstretched arms in the form of this magic cloak woven by every elemental tribe, every element, every season, initiated by the breath of DragonWhite. Would she receive it?

Of course she would. Of course she did.

 

Dagaz.

The rune of the day, of dawn. Of transformation, breakthrough, awareness, happiness, clarity, hope. “Det dagas”.

 

 

Cecilia Götherström, Dec 21st 2019 

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Kringlans Kalender / Meru’s Wisdom, Dec 19th

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”Everything is possible in the dark of the morning. Sensing, feeling, knowing, choosing, creating…”

“In the dark of the morning…”, Craft found himself realizing something and pushed Meru awake. “That is why you called her Dawn.”

“Yes, brother”, Meru confirmed. “Your Limitlessness, the gift of being able to be just that, is reflected for the human in that name.”

“So then, why brother dear, did she get the full name Dawn Faith MorningStar? It should be Dawn Gloria MorningStar!”

Meru took his time, pretending to give the idea a good ponder, gave Craft a friendly push back. “You always get to the core of the bone, the pool in the heart man! You are right!”

“Howl yeah! What good is Faith if you don’t know you are Gloria!?”

Way moved across the soft hay in the barn towards Craft and Meru. “Guys, we need to get outside now when the moonstones still light the way”.

Wizard was already outside. Holding his staff up to the still dark morning sky. A sliver of moonlight was shining through the veil shaped clouds.

“I know he is out here somewhere. I have asked all the stones sparkling in the moonlight to shine the way for him. I just hope he makes it before it is too bright and the sun takes over the glow. He always prefers silver to gold, you see. Maybe that’s why he got his name, Silver Grey.”

The wizard had hardly finished his last sentence when they all noticed a large shadow making its way out of the woods, following the snow covered dirt road leading up to the barn. Who or what was this?

A loud neigh.

Silver Grey. Of course! Wizard’s best friend ever!

The grand grey horse came out of the dimness as the first flake of morning sun touched the stable door. His long mane and silver white tail moving gently in the morning breeze, like mist. They could all see the reflections of the veil in his tail and mane, the voice of the void in his illustrious eyes.

He walked up to Wizard, put his nose on the old mans shoulder, breathing deep. Wizard hugged his arms around the horse’s neck.

The elves bowed, the Nissar came running out of the barn carrying a finely knit silverthread and greenstone blanket , the fairies placing it softly across the back of Silver.

”Now it’s your turn Wizard”. Meru nudged Wizard to hand over the wand as it was Wizard’s turn get in to his own silverthread and redstone knitted cloak, assisted by the fairies.

 

Cecilia Götherström, Dec 19th 2019