love

If I am really honest in my heart of hearts
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If I am really honest in my heart of hearts

If I am really honest, in my heart of hearts I
will soar like a bird,
touching the snow covered mountain tops.

I will run downhill

paws deep in the mud,
grass
and moss

like a wolf,
chased by the wind, embraced by
moving space,
scents, a whiff

on a hunt

not for food but
for play,
for life,
for joy.

If I am really honest, in my heart of hearts I
will sing to the dawn, dance
in the shadows of morning
and eve.

I will not
succumb to this mediocre
numbness of
sitting
not to be sitting but
to be seated
where someone put you.

If I am really honest,
in my heart of hearts there is
no resistance,
no pull,
no push,
no tug,
no moving,
without purpose.

Like a reed in the wind,
its movement its purpose.


If I am really honest,
in my heart of hearts I will
throw out all the blankets,
the cushions,
the pillows and
their safety-nets.

In there, in my heart of hearts
is she,
her,
it,
them,
this,
whatever opens,
whatever closes

holding a candle,
enjoying the flickering of the
light,
the wind,
the rain,
the snow,
the sea,
the cold,
the sun,
the wintery, wintery skies.

If I am really honest, in my heart
of hearts

that mountaintop
is my home,
those woods my
backyard, my pantry
that river, my blood.

I sit there,
having chosen
to sit there
myself.

I live there.

Having chosen to live there
myself.

I breathe there,
having chosen to be there,
myself

In my heart of hearts.



Cecilia Götherström, April 23rd 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 9th 2021

"Gentle, gentle, gentle
Just love me.

Kind, generous, 
loving,
fierce.

Listen to the bodies,
for they hold our souls.

Letting soar
your 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, gentle
just 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  

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Elsa’s Song,  Dec 4th 2021

I see the wilderness in your eyes.

Those yellow-brown soul portals watching me closely through your thick, white eyelashes.

A communication which cannot be misunderstood.

The wilderness is not savage. It is the one true connection. You might actually call it The One True Love.
What I see in you is what I am, what you are, what we all are. Together.

Wilderness.

Lost touch with our own innate wilderness, many of us have. Feeling lost not because comfort is missing, but because the direct contact with the elements have gone astray. 


Cold cheeks in winter, warm feet in summer, inhaling humid earth scent in spring, walking among crisp colours in autumn.

“Your serenades in the heart are the roadmap.You love the cold. Embrace that.” Elsa speaks to me.” 

“Uncover! Uncover! Uncover! Be!”“ may very well be followed by “Embrace! Embrace! Embrace! Be!” “ she continues.

As always, she is right. Even though there is no wrong or right. 

Asking her, she nods. She tells me to stop using those two words. She is shaking the box of words, letting many fall out through holes in the bottom, allowing space for new words to tumble in from the magic energy of this season.

“Alignment”, she says. “Choose “alignment” as your word. Then “right” and “wrong” have no charge anymore.”

Alignment.

Uncover! Uncover! Uncover! Be!
Embrace! Embrace! Embrace! Align!

Here, there and everywhere.



Cecilia Götherström, Dec 4th 2021

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Elsa’s Song, Dec 1st 2021

“When the full moon dances in its own light. When its shadow pulls the breath of slivering starlight. When the omens and the signs are one and the same. When the exhalation of the pine trees is your sleep, your lingering moments of trust. That is when the moonstone speaks to you my child.”

The voice meanders through the dark morning like a hymn.  Dawn is approaching, yet it is not here.

The moment before dawn. The moment before birth.

The dark. The void. The nothingness.

The sense of being held in Nothing-ness, in Everything-ness. The space we have been taught to fear, but which is the most loving, enveloping space. The space where we can hear. Where we can listen. Where we can see through the eyes of our own inner light. 

I roll over in bed, ready to put my feet on the ground, placing them on the warm, fuzzy blanket. 

The entire bedroom floor is covered with blankets held in place by sticky yoga mats underneath.

She’s old, you see. Her paws sprawl out to the sides sometimes. Her grip on artificial surfaces has let go. Her grip in moss, mud, earth, soil and sand has strengthened.

As the dust of dawn foxtrots gently through the tightly pulled blinds, touching the floor, reflecting off her fur, I see her. Curled up. Her white furry legs crossed. Jaws totally relaxed, breathing, snoozing. Head resting gently on the edge of her orthopaedic bed.

Peace. Magic. Love. Stardust. Gentleness. Listening. Kindness. Holiness. All. Breathing in. Breathing out.

As I open the faucet to splash my hands and face in ice cold water, it drizzles like gemstones landing in the sink. The light is as if from another dimension.  Rich, gentle, blessed. This water. A gift.

 Day one. Every morning anew. A promise. A vow. A vow of presence.

I will give myself to the story being birthed in each breath. The one story springing forth from the song. The song of creation.

“Listen. Listen to the moon. Listen to the stone. Listen to the song. This is Elsa’s Song.”

She on the other side of the veil embrace us both in her magic stride of sacred fierceness. Blessing us.

“We are all blessings”. Elsa’s song begins.

December 1st 2021, Cecilia Götherström

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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
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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

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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

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Past Lovers

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A piece from our monthly Writer´s Circle in The Hague, written in March of 2014.

When does a Love become a Past Love?
This very moment, as the present takes over?

Is past love, lost love?

Can you love somebody more and love somebody less?
Is there a less less or a less intense,
a more less , or a more intense?

Whatever it is, at this moment it hurts.

It hurts because I find myself loving not just people,
but moments with people.

Past Loves, Past Lovers – what is the difference?
When does Love turn into a Lover?
When you Love, are you not a Lover in its most passionate essence?

Is that not when you bare your heart,
deeper than your flesh and bodily sensations?
Is that not the Love that burns deeper than your skin,
charring your inner core,
touching the roots and the nerves of who you are,
– baring your very soul.

No limits,
borderless,
beyond any rules or conceptions.

When that Love just is, is, is
– does it ever become Past?

When it is so overwhelming that the thought of losing it,
of losing this moment,
of losing this Love,
makes you cringe.

When so many tears have been shed,
when so many glowing smiles and gentle touches have been exchanged,
when you are exhausted,
wrought out,
gasping for air,
in pain,
and somehow still fulfilled in the weirdest sense of the word
– is that when Love is Past?

Is that the moment when you realize,
that all which were the signs of Love;
the Power,
the Force,
the Storms,
of Love,
in an instant got caught up with attachment.

Attachment
to the passion,
to the feeling,
to the cringing skin,
the churning stomach,
the redness,
the fluttering
– instead of Love as something bigger than what we can perceive?

Cecilia Götherström, March 2014

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There

Reiki

Behind the sea there is a scent

Behind the scent
a truth

a truth odourless,
subtle
yet the greatest of them all

The truth of
who you are

a pearl within
a much larger scope
you could ever imagine.

Live that breath,
take that step
Be that one.

You.

Cecilia Götherström, 23-11 2015