StarBeing, with every word every breath, present yourself.
StarBeing, I am StarBeing
I am of magic, of crystals, of life, of light, of all the goodness holding this universe together. I am of That StarBeing
Why do we have to emphasize the darkness so much that all we initially see is the mustered force of things you are being shown you have to do in this world to be a bit less dark? - as if evil is inherent.
Why is the pure, bright, emphatic, kind, loving, generous quality which is what gives birth to everything we do create, why is that living power, life force, pushed down so deep ?
Asking the questions allows you to get rid of them, StarBeing.
Finding out why will not make you shine any brighter.
Ask. Understand. Know.
Do not go there! Override! Override the script. Override the filter, override the lie, override any and every thing which is not you, The StarBeing.
Her whiskers touch my hand. She eats gently out of the palm of my hand. Young one. Brave one. Gentle and so powerful.
Looking back , I see how I had no understanding in that younger mind of mine of how this four footer could have chosen me, could have loved me so dearly from day one. To me it had seemed so clear back then that I had just taken too much hay on my fork – as usual – by inviting this little ball of fierce energy in to my life and now I had to deal with it.
Being here with her now I wonder if it is not she who took too much hay on her fork by coming in to my life.
My Angel.
The drums of nature are calling. My angel is speaking. She speaks through the curiousness of her eyes. Through eternal listening. Through her constant invitation of pure awareness and boundless peace.
I am still learning her language. Or unlearning the old language, as she calls it.
Her language is in her ways.
“Learn my ways and you will learn new things”. The first sentence she ever spoke to me.
The light is bright. The candle flickers higher than what should be possible. Its spark illuminates the night.
“That little light, that little spark, hold on to that”, she motions with her paw.
“Watch it grow, watch it flicker, watch it sparkle, let it take over, let it burn down all that which is overgrown and overbearing, carry it with you in the night, hold it in your heart, see it in your mind, know that the only focus you need is that light, that one light, that one flickering luminous flame.”
“The flame that so many are afraid of shall be hidden no more. It is burning and it will only burn stronger and stronger the coming years, decades and centuries.”
“ Those who hide their flames will be choked by their own smoke. Literally. It is already happening. Dim your light and you feel the inner claustrophobia creeping in. Shut the door of your soul and you fall ill. Soul ill. You feel betrayed. Trapped. You look outside for the reasons. You trace your days, years, decades, centuries back for explanations. You want to understand.”
“There is nothing to be understood. There is a hatch to be opened. A door to be blown wide open by a storm so fierce that the magma of Vattnajökull diminishes in comparison. All you are to do is to hand over the key. Hand it back to the soul. Be bold! You cannot hold back what is meant to be. What already is. Open! Stand! Be bold!”
Saga sits down, places her pen next to her well worn notebook, looks out the window. The breeze is picking up, a gentle snowfall is on its way. You can tell by the slight greying of the sky, by the way the birds are dancing through the air towards the bird feeder, even by the sound of the wind through the kitchen fan.
Why had she not thought about that before? “I am an Architect of Magic”.
“Because through thinking you would never have arrived there. In that space of insight of who you are, of what you are here to share with the world my dear.”
The large, white wolf settles down next to her. The way they share space has always been like something out of this world. From day one.
“ I am an Architect of Magic”, Saga says it out loud again.
“Do you remember that stanza which came to you last year? The one which also begins with “I am”?”
Who is that outside the door? Who is speaking? Saga gets up, walks towards the front door, sensing there is more to who is there than she can imagine. Before her hand touches the door handle she remembers. The strophe rushes in through consciousness like a leaf in the gust.
“I am a Force of Nature. I am Power and Stillness in One!” she yells out as she opens the door.
Alba and Rosie! The two girls laugh, hug and cry at the same time. Rosie runs indoors, howls and performs the regular greeting dances, of course including the “hello I love you awesome to see you let me bite your fur and tug at your neck and throw you to the ground as you throw me to the ground good to see you or did I say that already ” wrestling game with AshWhite.
A few moments later the wolves and humans are gathered in a huge pile on the floor in front of the fireplace, where the open fire for this Midwinter Equinox has been crackling since the early MorningStar hours already. The wind picks up. Large, thick, soft snowflakes are being spun and swirled around in a dance even more intricate than the one the golden sky dragons performed a few days ago. Moonstones and pinecones are laid down on the altar. The four souls are singing together.
I am an Architect of Magic
Fire and Ice I am
Born of Earth and Space
Wild Moon Child I am
I am a Force of Nature
I am Power and Stillness in One
I am an Architect of Magic
Sacred Fierceness the staff
Pinecones and Moonstones the source
of
Space and Earth
of
Earth and Space
of
The Promise of Meru´s Wisdom
I am an Architect of Magic
All that I am is Here
Now
Three words drift through space. Whispered. Mahakash. Mahakash. Mahakash. Seven times.
Stillness and chaos, Moonlight and night wishes Sunrise shrewd in clouds and mist
Fire and Ice,
Dreams and the beyond Forged in steel, bound by flowers, like a star in the wind
Where is the dream? What is real?
Nothing is a dream. Nothing is real. It is all just perspectives. And perspectives can be turned, changed, tuned.
Whether we are awake during the day, sleeping and dreaming during the night, or the other way around nobody really knows.
How would you prove it?
When you are busy wanting to prove something you miss all the cues, all the goings on, all the “living” in the periphery of your space of focus so how can you know ?
What would happen if you invited yourself to stay open, to stay really, really curious to all of the above or maybe even something entirely different being what specifies “real”? Who knows? I mean, who really knows, really?
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”.
Because Sirius had been calling her since just before The Gentle One left. Since The North Star left even. Sirius. The Dog Star. Just before The Star In The Heart arrived it had called even louder.
A Trinity of Stars.
Sirius, a binary star system. Binary meaning “a whole composed of two”, according to the dictionary. Two stars orbiting around each other, bound by the same gravitational pull. Like the dance of infinity. Two huge lights merging. Surrounded by what is often mistaken as a rift, as darkness. When it actually is vast space, pure beingness, potentiality, flow, growth, fertility.
A Trinity of Stars.
“Look up and look out at Sirius. See yourself as if you are observing from there. Let North Star and South Star meet. Take the chance. Take every chance. Every change as a chance. It’s that turning of the diamond reflection a few degrees. Say “Today I choose a different course, a slight adjustment of navigation. Because I want to see where it takes me. Where the horizon meets the sea of space in the heart. Where resistance meets walls. And then I can change again. A small adjustment. Navigating from The Star in The Heart. On the course this circle of light, oneness and infinity is taking.” ”
Sirius.
Polstjärnan.
The Star in The Heart.
Trinity looked south. She knew for the first time that she did not have to choose north or south. All she needed to do was choose The Star in The Heart.
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.
“The space between space is who you are, is where you are. Right there, in the space of the space between space. Feel it! Can you sense it? Can you hear it? Can you step in to it?”
The voice was like a hymn being carried through the glistening landscape of ice and sunshine.
Of course she could feel it! But how do you step in to something which is already there? Something which has always been there? Something which will always be there?
“It’s a just a matter of disconnect and reconnect”, the voice seemed arrive through the candles in the window.
She moved closer to the house at the end of the road. The dancing flames of the 14 armed chandeliers seemed to be the source of this knowing voice.
Who lives here? Whose house is it?
She had walked past many times in fall when she was out foraging for mushrooms and the last berries of the season, but never had she noticed this cottage. Grey logs stacked on top of each other in the most exquisite way, red painted window frames, fir-smelling smoke coming out of the chimney dancing in the same rhythm as the candles in the window. A gleaming sled leaning against the porch.
As she passed the mailbox she noticed a little sign just underneath the lid. What name was on there? Trinity leaned in to read.
“The Blue Wizard”
The Blue Wizard? Was that a company name? Or some sort of artist name?
The front door blew open the same nanosecond she finished her train of thought, or train of questions. A Gandalf like figure stood in the opening, royal blue robes, long grey and white braided beard, embroidered hat on his head. He smiled and waved at her.
“What took you so long Trinity?”
How could he know her? And how could he possibly know her newly acquired name?
“This is not the time of playing small my dear Trinity”, Wizard chuckled as he greeted her. “It is the time to relax and be yourself”.
Wasn’t that an oxymoron?
“Absolutely not”, the Wizard replied as if she had spoken her thoughts out loud. “This is the secret instruction for everything in these times, this very time of the year, this very year. It is not the time to be playing small. It is the time to relax and be yourself. Just let that sink in for a while over some pine tea and saffron nut bread with us here in the stables behind the house.”
FlowerOfTheThunderAndLightning 