snow

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Elsa’s Song, Dec 7th 2021

“Can we travel through time with our questions? Is love alive? How many “out there” questions can you have lingering in your head in the space between waking and sleeping? Love can definitely travel through time though. I just know it.”

Watering eyes are glancing out across the landscape. Scarf masking mouth and nose, keeping the blizzard out. Beanie pulled tightly over eyebrows and ears. Nejla has been walking for what feels like hours but it can’t be more than fifteen minutes.

The train had stopped in the middle of the night. A huge tree, an ancient oak, had fallen across the tracks taking part of the overhead line with it as it went down, the conductor had reported over the intercom. The train could not get any further until the tracks were cleared and the overhead lines repaired.

Fortunately Nejla had booked a sleeping carriage for herself, Kriya, Tuva and Starlight.  It was some sight for the passengers boarding the train at the later stations as they passed through the narrow corridors on the way to their carriages. There, in coach  28 D, E, F & G, a woman reading in the top bunk, a husky, a malamute and a samoyed sprawled out on the two lower bunks.

The blizzard moved in less than an hour after the announcement, making it impossible for the railway repair crew to climb the poles to fix the overhead lines until the storm had died down.

The passengers were kept warm with nutmeg spiced gluhwein, steaming hot soup, extra blankets and hot water bottles. Saved by the fact that the kitchen on the train still ran its stove on gas.

Seven hours in to the wait, the dogs really needed to get out. For some reason Nejla had decided to strap on both her own as well as Kriya and Tuva’s backpacks. Starlight was a little too slender for those dogpacks so she’d gotten a smaller one. The only one available in the store that day was a glittery version, originally made for “glamorous poodles’ and not for huskies. But hey, her name was Starlight, so why not!

They stepped out of the train, Nejla planning to follow the tracks ahead, past the fallen tree and check  what the situation was. 

The same insight had guided her to attach the dogs harnesses to each other with the longer skijöring lines as well as attach two of them to her own skijörning harness.

Lumps of ice are beginning  to form on her eyelashes.

Cecilia Götherström, December 7th 2021  

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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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The Song Of Me

Song of me1

The Song of Me,

flies over snow covered mountains,

sings a spring time creek to its cover.

The song of me,

crosses hearts and barriers,

opens, moves and births.

 

The song of me,

is for no one else to sing,

but to blend in to

the song of all of us.

 

The song of birth, of cry, of worship,

of destinations

time and again.

 

The song of me breaks open,

moves crystals and rocks

into blessings.

 

The song of me cracks open,

that which is to be said,

to be done,

to be laid down,

to be rendered,

reunited,

rewed,

regained, retwined, regranded.

 

The song of me,

sings to the eyes of the soul

to the song of the gods

the eyes of the stars.

 

The song of me is the soul,

the spare, the twining twister,

the ever splendid galaxy of tears,

of joy,

of magic,

of serenity,

of wisdom,

of class and doom.

 

The song of me

is mine to sing,

thine to hear,

ours to twine

and twine and twine.

 

The song of me,

is of me strong,

of me being creation,

of me being all.

 

The song of me,

is of All.

 

The song of me

is you,

the you that is not

as me is.

I am

the song of me

 

Divine

 

 

Song of me2
Cecilia Götherström, Gävle 13/3 2015