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Kringlans Kalender 2019 / Meru’s Wisdom, Dec 16th

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She was wondering. When was she Red? When was she Way? Why could she not understand the human heart?

She’d spent so much time around the village and the farms in the valley. She’d followed hikers and hunters up and down the mountain. She could feel their loneliness, their longing for something outside of themselves without knowing the button to push for connection lay inside of them. Even the ones that did know got caught up in that outside – ness anyway.

“Way”, Meru said. “The outsideness, that is when you are Red. The inner business, that is when you are Way. But actually you are Way The Red. Just like I am Meru The Grey. Just like Craft  is Craft The Black, Star is Star The White, Charm is Charm The Blue Little Pup –  who will grow up to be Charm The Great Blue Sparkle, the wolf who watches over the oceans. When all aspects come together, that is when we Are.”

The whole wolf pack lay curled up just outside the opening of the Silent Rocks.

Craft got up and said “It would be nice to stay here for a few days. Just hang. Share. Walk together. Be together. Just rest in all the different ways one can rest.”

“I am all in for that brother dear”, Star almost sang as she placed herself where she could look up at them all. “I guess the choice is Red’s. She’s the one with all the questions today.”

“We stay”, Red replied. “Just stay. Right here. It can be our base for now, right?”

They all howled, agreeing.

Wizard poked his head out through the opening of The Silent Rocks. “What’s all this I hear? Staying put here? But, but, but what about all the stories to be written, all the magic to be done?”

Meru walked across, nudging Wizard in the face with his snout.

“We will walk, we will sing, we will weave and tell and build and transmute just by being all that which we are. You’re a wizard for crying out loud! You do the magic, we do the rest”, his wolf-laughter taking over.

“Ok, ok, ok Meru, I know you know me better than myself”. Wizard laughed along. “Remaining here it is. Sharing space is the truest cauldron for magic . I am getting really excitedly happy just thinking about it actually.”

“Yohohoooooo! Whaaazzzzuuuuup!?” Blue rolled out of the cave, tumbling down the gentle slope. Dazzled, squinting at everyone with his sparkly eyes. “Did I hear the word magic?”

 

Cecilia Götherström, Dec 16th 2019

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Kringlans Kalender – Meru’s Wisdom, dec 9th

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Dawn sat down to rest on a piece of cleared rock at the frozen brook. They had followed the river upstream, high up . Left the banks where the wide open ocean met the waterway. Left ”the place where the meandering whirlwinds melt worlds together” as the alves called it in their carols.

They had gathered plenty of pinceones, Meru and herself. Moonstones, not so many. She’d found two large ones, the size of Meru’s back paw prints, in the shallow waters where the treeline met the snowy fields, close to where the stream was born.

”How on Earth are we going to find enough moonstones to build this Medicine Wheel, Meru?”

”Moonstones my dear are basically stones which speak in the moonlight. The two we have gathered already are the two poles, the Fire and Ice, connecting the remaining ones we shall find the coming three days on our way to the Full Moon.”

”Isn’t that the day we need to hold our ceremony? Is it only three days away?” She couldn’t help feeling a bit itchy from the anticipation.

”At the dawn of the full moon we gather. I have a feeling Craft has found Red already”, Meru replied. ”Which is a totally new phenomenon I must say. Way has always been the last knot, the one who seals. Yet now it seems we all need to connect in to Star, including Craft and Way as one force. Star is calling out to us all to share our power cries , assisting her in waking up the magic to this world. Whatever she means with ”this world”…”

Grandfather had once told Dawn that the reason she got her tribe name was so that she could be reborn every morning with the golden light of the sun reflecting the silvery wisdom in the glow of the moon. How could she had forgotten about that? And why did that memory come back and visit her this very moment?

”Everything is possible in the dark of the morning. Sensing, feeling, knowing, choosing, creating.” Grandfather had said.

”Meru, I think you will have to start to sing in the soul of Star. It feels like that is the only way we can find her before Full Moon. We just had Sleeping Moon which means the power of this Full Moon to come is as strong as the force of that comet we saw from up here, the one which crashed at the oceans edge”.

”Which comet my dear Dawn? That was Star.”

The whole upper plane of the mountains started echoing as Meru lifted his whole being in his howl, tying in to the soul of not just Star but of Craft, Red, Dawn.

 

Cecilia Götherström, Dec 9th 2019

 

 

 

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Kringlans Kalender 2019 / Meru’s Wisdom, Dec 5th

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His shrivelling hands reached up to the skies. The nine falling stars met the node of his staff. A flash of lightning, a scream of connection, the wind ceased blowing and the earth whispered for a little while.

The wizard stepped down from his stone. Tired. Weary. He should be happy. Should be fulfilled. He was too tired to feel anything. He needed to lie down.

Crawling,  his hands searched for  the softest stones on the pebble beach. The waves were gently caressing the rocks. No tide tonight, just the movement of a silently dancing starfish and dolphins.

His hands found a spot of stones carefully polished by eons of ice and water. Here he would rest. Here he would regain himself.

He laid down, placing the staff beside him, covering it with the grey cloth and moss he carried in his pouch. He leaned in to the stone covered earth. Closed his eyes. Sssshhhhhhh…..

New stories would be written. Covering up what was between the old stories and the now. But who would write them? He was worried. Sssshhhhh….

The mist of sleep fell over him. Lulling him in to the space in between the veils. No moon tonight. What was to come?

– Cecilia Götherström, Dec 5th 2019

 

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Kringlans Kalender 2019 / Meru’s Wisdom, Dec 4th

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“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

 

 

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MidWinter

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Candlelight, chestnuts and pinecones

Christmastree,
it is just you and me

Comfort, life, breath
Pineneedles, light, sacredness

I stop,
I forget
in a way which makes me re-member

you came from a slope,
which was once me,
specks of atoms, of dust
you grew out of snow
I was

yesterday,
today,
tomorrow,
now

It all just is.
We all just are.

Christmastree,
you and me
are just dreams of traditions,
of what is and what is to come
Nothing more.
Nothing less.

You in my livingroom,
I in your forest.

It all blends,
in this moment
tomorrow
now
then
there
when
who cares?

Let us sing,
let us be the charol.

Have you not always dreamed,
like me,
to be carried out on a chord,
to slide down a tune
echoing in to the wilderness
with nothing to stop you
sounding

Who cares?
What cares?

Let us sing with the stars,
soak the light in to our hearts
Like the candles on your branches,
let us shine through the night

Midvinterblot,
I hail thee

My roots are deeper than the mountain
My home is stronger than my heart
My soul echoes through eons

Take my hand,
carry me away

While remaining here,
watching,
re-membering
taking in your light
Oh Christmastree, oh Christmastree
of Odins heart so strong

Hel.
Whole.
Hel.
Helig.
Holy

Oh , holy night.

Åh, helga natt.

Home.

– Cecilia Götherström, Dec 10th 2018

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Dec 1st, The Promise, Part I

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”And so it begins…”

With amber eyes she caresses every movement my mind makes, living in the depths of my soul as she speaks. With the voice of a mother she holds my intention in hers.

”Outside the comfort zone, new challenge is what it may feel like,” she hums.

” Going deep within, taking on the Journey to fulfill the ancient promise is what it really is. Go my child. Go to come home.”

The wind is suddenly picking up, icy air is turning my ears in to frosty red bundles. My lovikavantar protecting my hands from the cold.

Right here, right now, there is nothing strange at all about sitting in between her front paws, her entire wolfness envelopping me with a beauty my heart has never witnessed before. Right here, right now, the fact that this fluffy raven and I are about to go on what will be a very, very long hike is anything but strange.

”So”, the white wolf whispers. ”You have been here before. It´s the 7th year. 21 days. It is time. They are all here. Meru, Nisse, Bertil, Pe, the dragons, the giants, the trolls, the little people, everyone. 7 years you queens have been building this portal. Dragging stones, moving and planting roots, digging deep, decorating  with dreams, wishes, strength, power. Overwon despeair, dis-ease, grief, moved mountains to get this portal ready. With your magic you have ornamented thesed doors in 4 different ways while remaining as one. It is time to open the gateway. To merge with what is on the other side. To look all your fears in the eye to be able to turn them in to gold. In to gold and silver dust.”

She changes the seat of her paws, softening her gaze, allowing for the moon and the stars to glow through her white coat as she lightly yawns before capturing me in her eyes again.

”These dances have been going on since ancient times, like the swirling breath of of the winter hunters”, she continues. ” Since ancient times some have listened, some have stayed, some have returned, others have not. This time we need to return all together. This time there will be no veil. We all have to do this together. It´s a choice to save not just what we have but what we truly are. It is our last chance to create this New Earth, through returning to the ancient wisdom.”

I know it is time to go. Time to pick up and leave. It is not that I am dreading it, it is more like ”Why? Why is December 1st always the beginning of the next big move? Why can it not just be a soft, glittery, curly and gentle way into the favourite season of the year?”

Raven chuckles. ”You´re funny”. Flapping her wings. ”You know soft, fluffy, gentle and all that won´t go down at all with that inner spirit of yours. We will fluff enough in between journeys, I promise. But now we really have to embark.”

  • Cecilia Götherström, Dec 1st 2018
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I am sorry House

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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

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