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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. 

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Kringlans Kalender 2019/ Meru’s Wisdom, Dec 15th

640895_volk_vselennaya_3d_art_2500x2700_www.Gde-Fon.com
Through the raging storm there was a gentle ringing of bells, as if the stars above the clouds were doing a lightdance. The further up the mountain they got the clearer the sky, the gentler the storm.

It was really true, Dawn noticed. You did feel totally renewed, recalibrated even, after the long hike through the blizzard.

Craft stopped. He had been leading the pack the past hour. Now, as the sun was setting across the other side of the mountains, it was time for a bit of a breather for them all. Time to settle in for the eve, get burrowed in underneath either the low growing mountain birches or in the wedges between the rocks.

Blue the pup, Star and Way started to rearrange the snow at the entrance of the silent rocks as they were called. Meru and Wizard took turns moving all the fallen dry birch branches scattered around to the opening. They would make a great entrance floor as well as firewood for the human.

“Craft, why do I feel so at home around you and at the same time so fantastically in awe?” Dawn sat down next to the large black wolf.

“Dawn, dear”, he cleared his throat. This sort of felt formal and he could not fully understand why. “What you humans over and over again fail to understand is that you can only see in others what you carry in yourself. I sense that you are becoming aware of this more and more though. Like somebody has opened a huge, very heavy, thick door, letting the understanding shine through in to your being. Limitless. Belonging. Part of. Unlimited. I believe that is what you feel. That is home. And awe. Home is this feeling of awe, of limitlessness. This. What you are seeing, feeling, sensing right now.”

She looked up at Craft. The stars were out in the sky. Colours of the galaxies reflecting his being. Focused, welcoming eyes. No fakeness. Oh, how she wanted to feel like this all the time.

”It’s a matter of choice my dear Dawn. Over and over again. Practice making these choices. Every choice matters. Every choice is yours. Give that power to yourself, and you are giving it to others. Now, let’s just enjoy the shooting stars.”

How was it possible to move like this, between a feeling of despair, of being lost to totally belonging?

 

Cecilia Götherström, Dec 15th 2019

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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