What matters matter
to you,
StarBeing
What matters matter
to you
my dear
my love
my one and only
living
loving
soul
Do not accept
any hurt
any more
Do not accept
What matters matter
StarBeing
To your soul,
to your light,
to your love,
joy
and
connection
Go back,
Go forwards,
act, live,
sparkle,
receive
Don’t let that
darkness
wedge
any
deeper
in to
any-thing or
any-where
What matters matter
StarBeing.
Go grab it.
Now.
Cecilia Gotherstrom, Dec 2025
“Divine Soul, I am willing and ready to listen”.
“Really let all the stardust and particles shed through your life. Don’t try to understand what I am saying. Feel it and dance through it all. Rest and move and rest and move again . All is an eternal dance and you choose the tunes. You really do. What you set your reciever to is what you recieve. Just like a radio. Juice FM or Downbeat Dread ? Sparkle and Space or Beat The Shit Out Of My Brain ? I can go on and on saying the same thing in tens of thousands different ways, yet the message will always be the same. Choose. Act. Then choose again.”
She put the feathery inkpen down. Blew out the candle, opened the window to the winternight. Exhaled a dust of white foam in the starry sky.
It was time to act.
Author: Cecilia Götherström/ Pejuta Wakinyazi
Picture: From Pintrest
Feathers, pinecones
and angels
Many are
the colours
of
the soul
Little, bereft
ungrounded
Nothing matters more
than
the show
Feathers
floating
in space
To the fortress
of
tremendous
luminescence
Grounding
in earth
The wounded
cones
Life becomes life
once again
Rooted, full
omnipresent
And the cycles go
on
and
on
and
on
Where in the spiral
you find
yourself
look in the middle ahead
There in the mirror, skewed
what you believe
to be
true
Feathers, pinecones
and angels
Spin
their way
through
your life
Tender the
sacred
spiralling
cones
light
the way
Angels carry you
forward,
because you are
part
of the light
No matter how
lost
unloved
you might
feel
The distorted light
forms
a
line
Line becomes
love
Love
becomes
light
Light
Become
feathers
and
pinecones
and angels
Movement in
space
re-shapes
again
First there was
light
and
sound
Frequency
the
only truth
Blueprint
and
goldprint
and
stories
You,
you
will always
find your
true
Mahakash
Author: Cecilia Götherström /Pejuta Wakinyazi
We went into the woods to be baptized by the trees. Over and over again. Bowing under ash, dancing under cedar, reaching for oak, hiding under willow, laughing with pine, sitting under beech, healing through birch, cocooning under elm. Every breath a baptism.
Do you remember how the trees actually found us? You wanted to head for the ocean and I pulled you towards the trees. Do you remember biking under them to get to the open fields? I sang to make you stop and sense them there right underneath their canopy.
Do you remember how their leaves turned yellow, bright, red, golden, orange ? Like they showed us the multidimensionality of every single essence which grows. The sides which turn in the wind and look different from every direction.
Do you remember them bearing fruit? And how every new entry to ,and every exit out of , the woods had its ritual of me devouring at least one of those fruits?
Do you remember that there is actually not a lot to remember aside from that we were, we are, together? That it was how our journey together started? And it will never end. As it is a journey on a thread of many journeys. Might feel like it has a beginning and an end, yet all it has is a continuity. A continuity of that which holds it. Life. Light. Power. The Force.
Do you remember driving through all the trees to find me? To pick me up? How it felt like home once you entered the pine forests? How you loved the birches, ashes, oaks et al and that love turned to passion and homecoming when the pines started lining the road?
That is the continuity I want you to follow.
The continuity of the continuity of space, passion, life. You. Trinity. Power, Stillness and Presence. Smack right in the continuity of Space, Passion and Life.
If that ain’t an instruction for the New Chapter, I don’t know what is. And I, I know everything. I am Starlight.
Cecilia Götherström, Kringlans AdventsKalender 2022
13 candles. 14 winds. 15 heartbeats.
A small candle is still a candle.
Trinity stood knee-deep in the freshly fallen snow underneath the winter sky. Her journey south had come to a halt three days earlier. It had taken her some time, quite some exhaustion and elaborate thinking until she had realized that this is it. Presence. If you cannot physically go, you stay.
13 candles encircled her, 14 winds started dancing around her, the drums were beating to the rhythm of 15 heartbeats.
“You cannot be who you are not. You cannot sing someone else’s song. It’s too expensive. You do pay for it. In soul-sparkles. And your soul-sparkles are low. You are in dire need of some repair and re-fill. You are in dire need of Star-light.”
Trinity looked up. This sky was a little different from the one she had looked up at only moments before.
“Where you are now is your ground zero. Where it all begins. Just let it begin”, the grandmotherly voice kept sharing.
“Don’t look for home. Your home is with me. I am Starlight. I am. 13 candles will light the way. 14 winds will speak your name. 15 heartbeats is the only distance from here to Love, from here to Sparkle, from here to Power, Stillness and Presence. 13, 14, 15 is your code to the next key-lock my dear. Welcome. Welcome.”
A strange kind of peace rolled over her. It was time to take centre stage in her own life, in her own story.
The Northern Lights swooshed above. Confirmed.
Cecilia Götherström, Kringlans AdventsKalender 2022
How to love some-one, How to love some-thing How to How can we when the world is whirling around us and we whirl with it How to love some-one We stop. We stare. The stare becomes looking The looking becomes watching Watching with gentler, widening eyes Watching with nostrils wide open Watching with inner ears listening Listening from the soul It just happens When we stop. Right there, then, in the stopping we see the eternal moving dripping its life essence into the blood of our breath Right there, right in front of us, above, below, in the middle, to all sides Love, as a gentle breeze and a powerful force, moving moving in the stillness the stillness of our being There it is. Love. Adventure. Stillness. Love, adventure, stillness. We know it not by name, We know it by knowing - Cecilia Götherström, Sep 12th 2022
Alabaster sunk his paws deep in to the snow. He’d been up on the rocks, peeking down once more towards Pinehome City.
They were all together now. Nejla, Starlight, Tuva, Kriya, Ricky and Luca.
He could see them through his inner eyes. The two humans sitting on the floor by the Christmas tree. Sharing stories. Laughing. Remembering.
All four dogs sprawled out across the large kitchen floor.
What had once been the “Grand” waiting room in this timber wood train station building from the 1800s was now Ricky’s kitchen.
Alabaster made his way down, returning to the pack. How he loved these moments of approaching, feeling the warmth in his heart, connecting through the golden threads to his brothers, sisters, all the pups. Watching every single personality doing their thing while being in total harmony with the entire canine family.
Sure, they could growl and show off, change, walk off, start anew, return, explore. But that was because that is how things just are. If everyone is allowed to live out their purpose, harmony is what you get. And harmony includes storms, floods, falling trees, new growth.
You use the mind, heart, and soul, leading the body to the best possible solution for the highest good of all.
When you exist in a state of awareness where greed does not exist, you see everything through the eyes of Isa. The eyes of Isness.
He realized he’d let his mind wander in to the human domain again as he felt four youngsters rolling around him, asking for attention, nipping at his legs and paws.
“Come play, come play, Grandpapa Alabaster!”, they howled like a four octave choir.
“OK then!” Alabaster took off down the slope, zigzagging, jumping, rolling. Four young furballs falling over in his paw steps, doing their best to catch up.
A few of the packs hunters had just gotten back from their recon trip and joined in.
If you’ve ever seen a group of eight adult and four “just-out-of-puppyhood” wolves play on deep snow covered slope under the moon, star and sun lit winter morning sky, you know exactly what I am talking about.
Joy, aliveness, speed and wit dancing around in your heart.
Cecilia Götherström, December 10th 2021.
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.
Cecilia Götherström, 10/ 1 2014
I am rich.
Rich beyond belief,
beyond fathom, I am.
I am because I am rich.
Mother provides for me,
Father keeps me safe,
Brother nurtures me,
Sister sings to me.
Earth is what I am,
what I walk upon,
what lives inside my soul.
Sky is what breathes,
Soil is what bleeds,
Wind is what feels.
Rich I am.
All that I am,
is all that You are.
Star family, Earth family.
Rich I am.
Walk I do.
Forever and ever.
In the Richness of Plenty.
“Did you love today?” she asks before
she gently susses me to sleep.
“Were you grateful today?” he asks when
he closes the velvet around me.
“Did you live today? Live like life itself?”
they ask as they sing me away.
Dawn and dusk.
Dusk and dawn.
Creation.
Gratitude.
Breath.
Did you love today?
I did.
Cecilia Götherström, June 21st 2015
I am sorry House,
that I could not love you.
My heart was closed,
too busy holding on to pieces,
already broken
I was.
I could not see,
your tender care,
your solid hold,
you doing what you do best,
shelter.
I could not feel
warm, ancient soil
underneath my feet
lifting pine trees to the sky
welcoming crystal white covers
to carry us into the depths of the woods
in the company of ravens, eagles, moose and myths.
I was not hearing
the soaring air,
the speaking winds,
the soft whispers of comfort,
the Soul of the land
speaking to my broken soul.
My heart could smell,
could touch the sun,
could caress the moon,
sing with wolves and wonders
– but not under your roof.
I am sorry House,
for not living
while I inhabited your space.
I am sorry House,
for just grieving
in your warm arms.
I am sorry Mountain,
for loving you more
than I love myself,
for finding life, joy, wonder and purpose
on your hilltops.
I am sorry Mountain,
for capturing your soul into mine,
for the bliss of oneness
which only you know.
I am sorry Mountain,
that I cannot live that gift, that passion
for now and ever after more.
If anyone will ever ask,
I shall say;
The Mountain holds my Soul.
Cecilia Götherström, May 7th 2015
FlowerOfTheThunderAndLightning 