wisdom keeper

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Transmissions of Starlight / 11

“This is the tale of Moon and Star. This is the season of no stone left unturned. This is the time of your ripe uncovering”.

Starlight speaks.

“You are thinking too much. “This is the tale of Moon and Star”. This is what we are living right now. Moon and Star. Star and Moon.

The surroundings might feel the same, but they are not. They never are.

Rather than reflecting what you don’t want, what you don’t want to see, what is missing, just turn the crystal diamond shape a few degrees. Watch it reflect what you want, what you do want to see with your inner heart’s eyes glistening back all the abundance truly surrounding you.

Express the abundance. Acknowledge it. Let it know that  you see it; Thank you house, thank you floor, thank you shoes, thank you windows, thank you health, thank you richness of heart, thank you richness of being, thank you for all possibilities out there, thank you!”

““This is the season of no stone left unturned”. Be curious. Look under every stone. Invite the dragons in to move the stones with you. Discover the moss, the rest, the holding, the fertile darkness where you can. Diligently and intentionally plant all the seeds you want. Give them a chance! Speak them in to being. Wide eyes my child, wide eyes.”

“”This is the time of your ripe uncovering”. The time is ripe for the true uncovering. You know the power of words. You know the movement,  the energy body, the dance of magic spheres, the treasure chest on the inside. Now you speak it. Now you live it. Now. This is the time.”

22,2 degrees south.

““The 22nd parallel South is a circle of latitude crossing the Atlantic Ocean, the Indian Ocean, Australasia, and South America”, Wikipedia says .  It is thus a circle woven by ancient, indigenous and tribal knowledge, creatures of the deep oceans and endless skies, rainforests, deserts, coast, plains, mountains, jungles, forests, beaches. All which symbolizes freedom of the heart for you. Under a slightly different sky then your North Star sky. Yet it does have Starlight. Sirius.”

Cecilia Götherström, Kringlans AdventsKalender 2022

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Transmissions of Starlight / 2

Moon and Star. Star and Moon.
The first language was song.
The first language was light.
Eclectic.

She shone in my shadow and I shone in hers.
Always.

Shadow and Light. Light and Shadow.

Moon and Star. Star and Moon.

Clouds swirling consciously around the unconscious brain. Tides resisting the glow.
The old, the dark, the grey. To be lifted forever.
It will be painful they said.
But what is pain?
It is what you feel when you don’t shine your light.

Star and Moon. Moon and Star.

The crescent uncovered. The sparkle looking down, connecting.

Clouds dancing.

Cold, yet not cold enough.
Wet, murky, rotten.
Waiting for the true embrace bywinter.

Will it come? Will it ever come again?
The magic of sparkle.
Of the here and now.
Of taking new direction while simultaneously being direction.

Moon and Star. Star and Moon.

Sharing the same sky, the same heavens. Being light. Being song. Being magic. Being direction. Being.

Being Star. Being Moon.

The first language is still song. The first language is still light.

Moon and Star. Stars and Moon.

Like pearls being born through filigree silver and Milky Way woven grandeur, like horses and unicorns swooshing through the green clouds of the Northern Lights with its purple shades dancing above the snow covered peaks and steppes, Moon and Star dance through the dark velvet seeing All and Every-thing.

Sometimes the shadows come out to make sure you remember.

Star and Moon. Moon and Star.

Always remember.
Always.
Live now.

The sun sets and rises.
The moon travels.
The Star adorns.

The Trinity.

Sun. Moon. Star.

This is the tale of Moon and Star. This is the season of no stone left unturned. This is the time of your ripe uncovering.

Sun. Moon. Star.

Sun is Star.
Star is Sun.
Moon is reflection.

Star and Moon. Moon and Star.
What will be will be.
What is, is.



Cecilia Götherström, Kringlans AdventsKalender 2022
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Transmissions of Starlight / 1

She closed her eyes to the world, like she had closed her heart to the world too many years before. The world was not what she needed and the world did not need her.

Well, not the real her anyway.

What the world seemed to need was the one she could never be. The one she had tried to be. The one she had done her best to live up to. Which had never been enough.

She closed her eyes and promised to never look back. Only to look inwards. Following the symbols and the keys. Passing through doors new and old over and over again. Inner doors and inner dimensions.

What is out there is what is out there yet it’s not out there.

To see for real you have to fly with your eyes wide shut. So that your souls eyes are held open. Letting the silence speak like the Northern Lights sing. Stalling your gaze on that magnificence. That magnificence your being truly is.

When you walk down to the river’s edge where the white , crisp ice meets the dark lava coloured bottomless water and you peer in to the depths only to see the reflections of endless space, multitudes of stars and galaxies undiscovered. Then.

When you are there, and you lean a little further over the filigreed edge, and you look in to two deep, brown eyes, adorned by a silver grey mane, a large white muzzle, you realize that you are looking at a reflection of that unicorn which is you.

You pull back.

You look again.

Nothing has changed.

Or has everything changed?

The silver grey hair now adorns a woman dressed in white swirling lace and crystal studded layers dancing in the windless night to the rhythm of the Northern Lights.

“Be what you want to be, dive deep in to your true desires and be only that”, the wind which was not there, whispered.

She opened her eyes.

“See what is not there”, the whispers continued.

The first snow had started to fall. Out there, past the frosty grass, across the dunes, over the beach, a butterfly spread its wings.

“Don’t be afraid of completing your transformation even if tomorrow could be your last day. It’s all in the hands of you”.

Cecilia Götherström, Kringlans AdventsKalender 2022

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Elsa’s Song, Dec 5th 2021

A tiny yellow leaf fell on to her hand. 

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.

Cecilia Götherström, December 5th 2021  

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Kringlans Kalender 2020. Sacred. Part 13. December 13th.

Tea. Dark chocolate. Glitter and sparkle against a velvety background shining through the opening of this gianormous cave.

Samantha almost had to pinch herself.

Awaiting Lucia-morning here. Inside the first of the Mountains of Stillness caves, with the Queen of Dragon Queens Mama D herself. It was bigger than any dream she’d ever had for herself.

“Is that really true? Like in the heart of your heart of hearts true?” Vayu asked as he curled up next to Samantha.

“What do you mean “really true”?”, Samantha replied.

“You know, we quite often think we wish the most splendid things and experiences for ourselves, involving places, things, beings, moments, even those as superbous as this one right now. Yet they are more focused on others. Like this Lucia – morning, like Mama D. They are both true energies of Love and Fierceness. Power. Both of those energies are living from their heart of hearts. If you would truly live from the heart of hearts right now in this magic, sacred moment, what would you do? What would the tea and chocolate of your soul be so to speak in this very moment?”

“I would pick up an instrument, pen and paper. I would write. I would sing.” Samantha heard herself blurting out without hesitation or thought. 

“I would sing this moment. I would sing the stars. I would sing the light. I would sing darkness. I would sing healing. I would sing love. I would sing home. And for Marcus somewhere down there in the valley I would sing Star.”

“See, sister!”, Vayu’s eyes glistened. They had already transformed from their puppy blue to dark night sky blue. Soon they would change to yellow as he reached his fully grown self. “That is what you should be doing. Sing all that. Be the music, be the holy reverence resting inside of you. With Fierceness. Sacred Fierceness.”

“Sacred Fierceness?” Samantha looked like she had an epiphany. “I’ve heard that phrase before. In whispers. Some days ago! At the beginning of our hike I think? Did you hear them too?”

“It’s what my mother always spoke about.” Vayu said. “Though she was only with us for our 16 first weeks, I can still hear her whispering “Sacred Fierceness” from her way wandering Home.”

“Home?” Samantha wondered. “Wasn’t home with you and your siblings?”

“She was called Home quite suddenly, to the Home with a capital H, very soon after we’d arrived. Her task is about five dimension from here I believe. I am walking our task here, yet we are always connected. Sacred Fierceness is that bond. To your music and your songwriting too. Wow, look!”

Outside a light-carriage was moving across the starry skies, getting closer and closer. Fairies and winged beings lighting the way. It was heading right towards the cave opening.

  • Cecilia Götherström, December 13th 2020.
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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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No more

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He might look like a young, innocent,  devoid of experience, warrior, but he held the wrath and protection of his ancestors. They held his back, his flanks, his future. He walked in their footsteps. In his own way.

The silvery mist was coming off his cape, latched to his shoulders by heavy ornamented armour. His dragon may well be sleeping yet he felt her waking presence. Through the dimensions they were always side by side. One mind. One soul. One being.

Why was it so hard for us humans to live in all dimensions all at once? he asked himself. Why did greed, hatred, fear, possession set as if in stone in this un-magical cold, non sensing world if ours?

The world where we fought over things, countries, people without knowing why. There really was a darker force out there feeding in to all of this.

He moved his hand through his thick, blond hair. Decided then and there to never look back. To always look in to and for those other dimensions from this moment on. To notice where he was being pulled in to the dark, to notice where the scheming seemend to be winning, to notice when it felt like there was no way out.

Love. Faith. Trust. Faith. Trust. Love.
They are all one and the same force.

Faith.

Look. Notice.

Be NoBody, NoOne, NoThing. Tread the paths of the threads between dimensions. Will to see them. Want to live them. There. Bring them in here.
That is magic. That is the magic.

There is no difference between living it, seeing it, being it. It´s there. Just open the eyes. Open the senses. Feel it. Then speak.
Before that words just block.

Sense it. Then speak. From there. From that place.

His father looked over his back.
”Son, my sword is yours. It will cut through all you don´t know that you don´t know, as well as all that which stands in the way. Use it. Sense. Listen. Look. Use it from that place. Now go.”

Cecilia Götherström, October 23rd 2018

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In my heart of hearts I

Akasha

In my heart of hearts I
hear music
sing to my soul

In my heart of hearts I
am music

In my heart of hearts I
spill in to the world of creation
like a brittle waterfall,
a whiskering wind,
like a tone of love,
of wildness,
of quaking wisdom
shivering out of my bones

In my heart of hearts I
know who I am

In my heart of hearts I
melt into the mother,
become the father

In my heart of hearts I
am the speck of oneness,
the soul who is the muse,
the giver of joy,
simultaneously

In my heart of hearts,
there is no stopping me,
No boundaries,
no beginning,
no ending,
in my heart of hearts

In my heart of hearts I
look deep into the brown-yellow eyes
of the enormous white wolf
in the mirror
looking back at me,
eyes full of tenderness,
eyes full of knowing,
soul full of worship

In my heart of hearts I
come home
to who I am,
to who I was,
to who I am to be,
simultaneously.

Cecilia Götherström, Nov 5th 2015
Thank you Roger Housden for the writing prompt!