I believe in guidance, in guidance I believe - yet, I do not seem to believe in myself
I grasp and grasp and grasp, fingernails bleeding, splinters wedged underneath them, grasping still at the outside, at confirmation that I am allowed to exist
I believe in guidance, in guidance I believe, yet I cannot seem to see what guidance tells me in this dark world around me, at this time
Darkness is there, so that we can see the Stars, StarBeing.
I understand that, yet why can I not see the stars?
Because you must wrap yourself around them, StarBeing. Allow the darkness to fold to unfold, challenge the wind, embrace the rain.
The trees seem to fall down. Yet they are not. They are buried in deep, deep snow. Dragons dance above like garlands of stars.
It is seven days since they left the Glen, ahead of the morning star.
Up and up and up they went. Through dim top valleys, raging ravines and chest high mountain birch brushes. Over the tops of the Three Wishes. Down the Dark Valley of Hidden Wisdom. Back up the Mountain of Doom.
After the last bend they had all expected to see something entirely different than what was born in front of their eyes up there on the Diamond Step. As they turned that last bend they found themselves where they had only heard about in legends. Right at the “eye” of the Ursa Major . Alioth and Merak pointing the way to the path to Polaris.
“Polaris”, Rosie sighed. “Home”
Alba could feel the word ringing in her heart, in some strong, strange type of harmony. What was that? How could a star so far away yet so close by feel like home? How could this desolate place where their feet were placed feel like home?
“Because it is not desolate my dear Alba”, Rosie said. “Look at all the magic. Look up!”
Magic spun through the wisdom of choice of voice of being
Gold Silver and Granite
Take what is yours Leave the rest behind
The song of the elves, the dragons and reindeer versifying the scenery of snow, trees and stars. Are they creating it as they are singing? At least it feels like that to Alba.
“They are their own creation, all around them is their own creation, they are all what we – or you humans – are learning that you are dear Alba”, Rosie chuckled. “To take responsibility of and now truly be your own creation. That is why Polaris, these mountains, the wilderness feels like home. Because that is what you are and hence you create it and it creates you and so on, love creates what it loves – and hates creates what it hates, which is the other side of the medal in the field of duality – , love recognises it or actually recognises itself and more is created. This is your dream. Where you live and I live, in consciousness in this moment. That is why we are here together. Right here, right now. Let’s get to know more about our fellow beings here in this place!”
Soft, gentle bells swirling through the air. Snowflakes embracing the air.
Or no, not stuck, just sluggishly proceeding, Nejla corrected herself mid thinking.
“Totally fascinating how deep many thought patterns are. You slip in to them without noticing, then you react and only then do you realise it is too late”, she spoke out loud to herself.
“What is too late?” Ricky asked.
“I guess nothing is too late”, Nejla realized as she replied. “We can always go back and change. We can always connect again and think or say or do what we really meant, not what our old patterns meant. I believe I have come to understand that this is actually what evolving in life is all about. Dropping the masks, gently tearing down the walls and owning what we need to release and uncover. Going back to those we dropped our reaction on, including when that one is ourselves at times, rephrasing, repairing. Through that we not only heal our patterns but we also heal the other being across from us as we throw out a bridge of loving rainbowlight through that very act. Does that sound weird or mushy?”
“Nothings mushy in the life of a musher!”, Ricky couldn’t help himself, slapping his knees, laughing at his own joke.
Soft, gentle chello like music drifted through the air, swirling around the mountaintops, dropping in and out of the crevasses, dancing, mixing, transforming. The full moon travelled across the heavens. No hurry. Just gently journeying.
“Do you know that command on the computer when everything seems to be out of whack?” Nejla looked across at Ricky as she moved the dogs from the sleds to the stakeout.
“Force Quit, you mean?”, Ricky was half way head down and half his torso in to the Cargo Basket, getting the dogs meals out.
“Yes!”, Nejla enthusiastically replied. “It feels like the spell will work just like “Force Quit”. When things are stuck, just hanging there, solidly glued in the same warp you need a “Force Quit” right?”
“Right as rain”, Thor budged in and replied.
“Starlight, Starlight, Comets and Void. Be bright. Shine clear”.
Lyrics were forming to the swirling music.
Nejla looked over at Starlight. Their eyes met. In that moment Nejla realized that Starlight’s very eyes looked just like that – starlight. Why had she not seen that before? Furthermore, Starlights red and white fur reflected the starlight from above as well as the frozen starlight they rested upon. Was it Starlight singing as she gently howled or was it the crevasses?
The darkness of the winter morning holds a cocoon. Nejla embraces the coolness of the bedroom air mixed with the warm welcoming of her worn out snowboard-socks.
Minutes later, cup of warm team with milk and honey in hand, her mother’s knitted scarf wrapped around her waist and another one around her shoulders, she is in the garden. Inhaling the new day. It is ceremony time.
The morning star is not alone in the sky this time of the year. You could say there’s a family, even a tribe of a truly interconnected web of morning stars. One shining brighter than the next, yet noone stealing the light from the other. Every single light source enhancing each other. Every breath a pulsation of light against the soft darkness of the multiverse.
“There are stars which are no stars, and there are skies which are no skies. There are no terms and conditions on creation. Just because we have named something from our perspective, looking in one direction, does not mean that is the way it is.”, Nejla spoke, pondering, to the winter air.
“What would it take to be a sadhu?” Nejla thought to herself. “What would it take to be a choice. A choice to just experience the here and now? To stop, to stay, to watch through the veils. Noticing that sometimes they are sturdy blinds and other times the velis dissipate in front of your eyes as you observe them? To be someone not going anywhere physically and ambitionally all the time, but expanding from within?”
“It would only take that. A choice. The choice. You see, magic is a choice too.”
The voice seemed to come from the winter breeze. In the shifting light of the morning sun approaching from the east and the dense snow clouds moving in from the north a little sparkle started to manifest right in front of her eyes.
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
FlowerOfTheThunderAndLightning 