shamanic stories

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Kringlans Kalender 2020. Sacred. Part 20. Dec 20th.

“Stars shining right above you. Night breezes seem to whisper “I love you”. Birds singing in the full of pine needles tree. Dream a little dream of me, humptidumptidumtidum…..”

Barry was singing his way ascending the last piece of the slope ending at the plateau between the two mountain peaks.

“Not sure those are the true lyrics”, Marcus commented. “Think it should be a sycamore tree”.

“Come on! You can’t expect a polar bear to have any clue about what a sycamore tree is!” Barry shook his large head at Marcus.

The wind picked up. It came out of nowhere. All of a sudden there was a huge whirlwind of feathers, large and small, silvery, white, grey, golden, being blown around in a ferocious dance. 

Storulven and Grey signalled the whole pack to a halt.

“The Whispers don’t take the singing jokes lightly today”, Grey spoke. “Usually The Whispers have the greatest sense of humour as they are totally egoless. It is just that right now we are really in The Stillness and Silence territory and here singing has the greatest of magnanimous purposes”.

“What is he talking about?”, Marcus asked the wolf next to him. A gangly little red and white male called Everything.

“Dreams”, Everything replied. “You see we are all made of dreams, sung in to existence by The Whispers”.

Storulven continued;

“Vayu The Wind Whispering Wolf is waiting for us. He’s the keeper of Dreams. The everlasting pieces. His time is now. So is all of ours. Right now. We are here to sing all that Sacred Fierceness in to existence. First the dreams need to be dreamed. I believe Samantha and Josephiel begun the knitting of that some days ago. We all will put our own spice in the mix. Josephiel The Cloud Shrouding Dragon and Snow will filligraphically project them through the sacred geometry in the skies between the two peaks of Moonstone and Granite. Then The Whispers will speak. No clue what they will say. What they will sing. We will be the chorus. We will all Be.”

“Let’s get inside the woods before we are blown off the slope by all these feathers”, Grey turned his head to point in his wolfy way towards the thin line of pine trees between them and the open glen behind.

“Star Seeker, Star Seeker, find your Star, find your Light. Star Seeker, Star Seeker find your Light, find your Star.” 

Was that the feather-filled wind singing Marcus wondered?

“Star Seeker, Star Seeker, feet on the Earth, Heart in The Heavens, Star Seeker, find your Star where she resides”.

Yes, the wind was singing.

  • Cecilia Götherström, Dec 20th 2020.
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Kringlans Kalender 2020. Part 18. Dec 18th

There was something different about this morning star. Usually as the dawn turned in to morning the light of the morning star would fade in to the blueness of the new dawn. Today it didn’t. It grew brighter and stronger by every moment passing.

“Polaris”. Barry spoke.

“What?” Marcus asked. “I thought Polaris was in the skies with your ancestors and that morning star was always Venus?”

“Polaris, Star of The North, Venus, Dawn Light, The Star Which Leads The Way or simply Star. She is guiding us right now. And we shall follow, no matter what name we feel she has.”, Grey filled in.

“Wiseass Wolf!”, Barry laughed as he shot a pawful of snow towards the wolf.

“Posh Polar Bear!”, Grey ducked just a little too late.

The pack was ready to leave. It seemed everyone knew where they were heading or at least what was going on. Aside from Marcus.

“My dear human”, Grey looked his way. “Just listen with the sense you use when you write your music. It knows where we are heading. It knows what we sense. There is no difference between your senses and ours, believe that to be as true as we know it is.”

The bright star shone even more lucid in the sky now. It seemed to move and then stopped between two of the highest peaks in the mountain range northwards. 

“All I can sense is something I can just translate as “the moonstones are calling” “, Marcus replied.

“What have I told you about that darn translating Marcus?”, Barry was getting slightly upset. “Every time you use that phrase you deny yourself the trueness of the moment. The chance of living Life inside Life then stays on the other side of that veil you just wrote in to the equation”.

“OK, OK, OK”, Marcus got his backpack mounted, staff now in hand.

They all got started up the path into the woods leading north. Marcus realized they were heading for the dragon caves in the Mountains of Stillness and Silence.

“How will we be able to find the last pieces of the symphony in The Mountains of Stillness and Silence?” he wondered to himself.

The huge white wolf, the upper guardian of the whole pack whom always took the lead, sent Marcus a picture of a diamond shaped hologram, pulsating all sacred geometry patterns ever created, then nudged at him to come closer.

Marcus walked his way as Storulven spoke “Everything possible and impossible is to be found in The Mountains of Stillness and Silence. Everything ever written, ever danced, ever woven, ever to be, is there. Only there. Through the Moonstone of Granite you can call on your Star as you enter in to your true name of Star Seeker. Step in to your Being with every step you take through these woods, up these mountains my dearest friend and Listen. The Moonstone will speak to us all through The Whispers. Now, walk with me Star Seeker and you shall see that we are not looking for any last pieces for your symphony, we are looking for the everlasting pieces”.

  • Cecilia Götherström, December 18th 2020.
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Kringlans Kalender 2020. Sacred. Part 15. Dec 15th

Stillness. 

It was still.

Silence.

The Sound of Silence.

You could hear it.

You could feel it.

In your bones.

In your soul.

Such peace. Such lightness. Such a sense of being carried, held, embraced.

It had arrived with the golden-dust-sparkle-carriage. A flowing cloud of gold dragons. Many, many, much smaller than Josephiel and Mama D. They were everywhere, yet nowhere. 

They were all around in the cave, on the slope at the opening where Samantha and Vayu were sitting, on top of the ridge above the cave – yet it felt like they were not really taking up any space. They were space.

“This is the joy, the magic, the gold of Stillness and Silence”, Vayu sighed.

“Splendid, isn’t it?” Josephiel added. “Realizing the space we all inhabit is filled with the magic sparkle dust of these golden dragons, every cell and non-cell encircled, this magic gold is what is All. We see them as dragons right now, as dragon energy is the one energy which can carry magic, peace, serenity, truth – in other words Life inside Life – in this dimension, and quite a few other dimensions too for that matter.”

“Then why are dragons being slain in some of the old stories and myths, portrayed as threats and dangers to humans?” Samantha asked. “All of you who I have met are just gorgeous, powerful in a sacred-life-energy-carrying way. I don´t get it.”

“There was a time when magic, connection and knowing the secrets became considered wrong my dear. Dragons were the first to be banished from the magic of the myths. The myths were changed in to legends. Along the line wolves were added to the long list of sacred connections removed from you humans. More legends added. And the rest is history.”

“It is time to bring the true myths back then”, Samantha said resolute.

“They are still here.” Vayu replied. “All you need to do is listen. Exactly what you were doing. Did you notice you saw more dragons as you listen to the Sound of Stillness and Silence?”

“I did”, Samantha said.

She slid back in to Silence. Here in the Mountain of Stillness and Silence you felt it getting enlarged. You became the Stillness and Silence. You became Every Thing. Every One. No Thing and No One at the same time. It was like being lost without being lost, an amazing sense of being Home.

As she looked inside her heart she saw a huge troop of wolves pulsing through the trees in the deep snow. Led by someone who looked like Star, just grey and larger. Where were they heading?

  • Cecilia Götherström, December 15th 2020.

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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 9. December 9th.

Marcus picked up his pen. His writing-feather was actually a ballpoint pen adorned with a massive feather.

He’d found it in a jewelry store of all places when he was fourteen years old. His mum had brought him to that store to pick out a present from his Mormor for his confirmation. Whether religious or not, everyone in the village got confirmed. It was more of a tradition than something strictly religious. A rite of passage. Somehow, somewhere along the way the event had gotten symbolized by jewelry.

Young Marcus would rather have gone out in the woods or down to the river with Mormor herself and picked out a stone together, but mum had insisted her mum wanted to give him something “valuable” that he could “cherish” for the rest of his life – preferably in gold. Marcus had smiled to himself at those words as he knew that was mum’s wish, not Mormor’s. Mormor – and Morfar – had always taught him that nothing is more valuable, nothing is to be cherished more, than this Earth we walk upon and all of her creations.

He’d seen the pen, a huuuuge Eagle Feather attached to it, between a selection of gold crucifixes and “faith, hope and love” themed earrings.

“That one, please”, he’d pointed to the pen.

Mum had raised her eyebrows, but before she could shake her head in a no Marcus had pointed to the little marking proving it was sterling silver. A compromise well worth giving she had decided.

Here he was, 35 years later, a celebrated composer and musician. And it was this pen, this pen only which produced the magic. As soon as he touched it he was transported. Just like when he put his fingers gently on the keys of the piano.

And Star.

She had been his co-composer. 

His magic portal.

All this time.

This morning he had gone out for a 4 am starbathing walk in the snow. Something or someone had called him out of his sleep. By now he had learned to listen to those “whispers”, as he called them.

Down at the river bank he looked up to the skies. North Star. Great Bear. Orion. The Doggies.

Across the ice a misty figure came walking. As the shape got closer it seemed huge. The size of a Polar Bear. He sat down. Rubbed his eyes. It was. A Polar Bear. Should he be afraid? He’d lived with a wolf with little over 12 years, so maybe not?

The bear stopped. A few meters out on the ice still. Saying;

“May I?”

Marcus gestured to the large space in between himself and the trees. The bear settled in.

“Thank you. It was one hmmmm of a journey getting here from the dimensions of the outer banks. But now I am here, you are here, so we can better get acquainted as we need to finish that piece “Home”. The most magnificent symphony to ever grace these dimensional planes.”

Marcus did his best to take it all in. The large white bear pushed him gently on the shoulder. “Barry’s the name. Like Barry-ton.” he said with a wink.

  • Cecilia Götherström, Dec 9th 2020.