promise

by

Earth & Space, 2nd of December , Door 2

Your paws are fully grown.
You are everything
and nothing
like your sisters
at all.

What seems to me
like a moment
on the road
to somewhere
is for you
an
eternity of ever newness
in one long moment
which never passes.

Her soulfulness and joyful presence always pushes right in to my being. I do not know how to not live with her. Where she ends and I begin has dissolved.

Maybe there was never a boundary in the first place.

That little fierce puppiness which shook me awake, took hold of not just socks and toilet paper rolls but of lives, of relationships, of the senses where the inner beings meet. That.

“When you focus on separateness, that is what you get”, she says with all her being. “When you listen to the play of movement, that is what you live with”.

“The agenda might be full, but the heart cup is being filled through other means. When you put that one on top of the list watch what happens. Listen inwards. Then observe.”

The guidance from within seems to overflow as we are entering this time of guided light. Enveloped by the dark wintery skies, displaying its dance of Aurora Borealis more and more often, the Star in the Heart sparkling ever brighter, as the milky way pathway lights up, Orion, Ursa Major and many more pulsate with their brightness. This is how we enter in to the arms of the one Mother, the one Father, being held.


December.

December paws. Touching snow. Touching a promise.

Touch.

Touching the infinite being.

Through the heart.

“How do you touch through the heart?”, I hear a giggling whisper. “That is the practice. That is the exploration”.

Author: Cecilia Götherström / Pejuta Wakinyazi

by

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