On the darkest day of the darkest month the light of the new moon reaches out from inside
Lucia is here to light to lead us through
the coming twenty-four nights of transformation
Alba and Rosie had reached the High Glen. From up there it was dark, dark, dark . Below in the valley there was movement. Small lights as the forest elves danced their way through the icy fog. Candles being lit in the houses as people woke up to the scent of freshly baked saffronebuns. A gentle breeze of harmonic hymns travelled through the air. The mountain elves were journeying down the mountain in large numbers, looking like a huge glowworm swirling its way descending through the snowy fields. Nissemor and her little ones were cracking hazelnuts and walnuts in front of the barn next to the church. You could hear the sound echoing through the slow dawn.
The largest silver and gold dragon ever seen from this Glen approached from the direction of the morning star.
Isa had taken off this morning on what she called “sparkly business”, leaving Nejla in the garden pondering her next step.
With all this Be-ing and Isness one still seemed to have a problem with sitting still, she had told Isa.
Isa had explained that Be-ing and Is-ness have nothing to do with not acting, not moving. It’s about moving through what seems like days and nights and months and seasons and all that, not attached to what it brings or removes. Just doing your thing while Be-ing aware of the Isness. Then the hidden palaces will rise. Shangri-La, or Shambhala, will be un-veiled. Uncovered.
The little yellow leaf had holes. Worn by the changing seasons, by visting insects. It was truly doing its thing as it fell in to Nejla’s hand. Letting go, falling, transforming.
So much to uncover, so much to embrace… Where to start?
How Nejla missed The Adventurer. And the dragons. When would they return? Or would she have to leave in search of them?
How about taking just one step, one action, instead of thinking?
Nejla sat the leaf down on the grass. Looking up she felt sure it would snow this evening. The air had a certain density and height to it. The clouds muddled together.
Somewhere he felt her in his heart. Moving like a searchlight. Descending. Ascending. Like she was walking up and down mountains, valleys, ravines, through woods and farmlands, along lakes and rivers.
He knew this time would be a different level. Another threshold needing to be crossed.
Why couldn’t the humans just keep walking? Why did they have to get “comfortable” or whatever they called it, fall asleep and shut down completely? Why could they just not realize that the only constant really is change and that is what you need to move with? Sometimes more, sometimes less. Our Mother Earth and Father Sky are the eternal parents, guiding us through all. Including the humans.
Long forgotten seem the ways of the new. “The new” who arrived from different star-systems, like comets hitting Earth, sparkling down all over the place. Making the humans more human. Whatever that was supposed to be.
“Love thy neighbour like thyself”. Well, thy neighbour is the freaking galaxy, and that part of loving thy self seems to be more difficult than winning a Nobel price.
FlowerOfTheThunderAndLightning 