wisdom

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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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Kringlans Kalender 2019 / Meru’s Wisdom, Dec 20th

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Dawn Gloria MorningStar stood at the banks where the river met the ocean. Where the sweet water met the salt water. Where everything merged before her very eyes.

The Northern Lights were playing in the skies again this night. They had been truly blessed with many Aurora Borealis dances these past weeks.

Star sat a little higher up the slope, overlooking the human and her hearts guide Meru at the riverbank.

”It feels like everything is a river Meru”, Dawn said. ”Everything just flows and amounts to nothingness, disappearing in the nothingness of the ocean. Like nothing really matters.”

”My dear, wise, melancholic child”, Meru looked right into her eyes. ”The nothingness is the everythingness, the limitlessness. It might feel frightening at times but it’s not disappearing, it’s appearing. First you need to allow yourself to flow with the river, to move closer to the banks when the river appears too wild for you, to move from the quieter side flows in to the midst of the river when you feel stagnation knocking on your hearts door. Travel conciously from mountain to ocean, allow yourself to experience all of it. Make your way through the open plains above the treeline, through the narrow passages between the rocks, past and around roots, pebbles, sand and earth. Merge, merge, merge. Be a drop a water, ascending with the warm air. Journey with the clouds. Drop down on the glacier. Become a beautiful, beautiful frozen crystal. Flow with the river again. All metaphorical, yet literal. Sense what matters to you, choose what matters to you. Know yourSelf.”

Star sighed, got up on her front paws, adjusted her posture. She had heard their whole conversation. She felt so strongly for this human. For her pack. Of which the human was a distinct part by now. Because, yes, they were all her  pack. The Mother. The Crown. The Togetherer.  That was Star. Her role. She was. Meru spoke. Craft embodied. Red was the music between them all. Blue the dance.

The Medicine Wheel was still laid out on the pebble beach. Right in the centre of it Wizard was standing, staff and cloak making him look quite regal. Silver White, the powerful grey stallion, was right there with Wizard. Surrounded by the pinecones and moonstones they both looked like they were exactly where they belonged. Home.

DragonWhite and Elo were accompanying the elves, fairies and Nisse on their way to the village in the valley. It was time for them all to unveil with soft silver-sparkle.

”Why does my heart feel so heavy, Meru?” Dawn asked her heartfriend.

”Because everything has to end for something new to begin. Because for the first time ever you will let go for real. Fully. And your heart knows enduring and holding on better than it knows welcoming. Don’t push the heaviness away. Let it move through your heart, like this water in front of us, washing yourself ready for the welcoming my dear.”

Star moved restlessly.

 

Cecilia Götherström, Dec 20th 2019

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Kringlans Kalender / Meru’s Wisdom, Dec 17th

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The wolves were off hunting. Wizard was working on the formulas. Elo The Reindeer had sent a message with DragonWhite to let them know he was on his way back to join them all at The Silent Rocks. His message had contained something about Wizard possibly feeling lost in a few days without a reindeer.

Dawn could feel the pine trees a bit further down the mountain calling her. She just had an urge to sit down, watch the stars wake up on the heavens above the cone shaped tree tops as dusk walked in. She made her way down the slope.

In the city she often heard the call of the trees. Maybe those calls had been there all her life? Until she lived in the city she hadn’t noticed, she was among the trees often enough anyway back then. But now, the past years especially, she would wake up in the middle of the night hearing them as if they were calling her name. Sometimes she found herself on the bus riding past a park just having to get out. See the trees. Not watch them. Really see them.

To hear them call her here on the mountain was a first.

Of course she had not gone off alone. Red had left the hunting party early, sat waiting for Dawn under the skirts of one of the cedars next to the yew tree.

“What is on your heart, dear” she asked, wagging her tail at Dawn.

“I do not know dear Way”, Dawn replied. “That is why I need to be with the trees. I guess that might be why they are calling me. It feels like my heart is missing a piece. Like there is something missing all the time. I do not understand. I should be happy. This place is magic. You are all the most amazing, star-dusted, gorgeous gifts of friends and teachers one could possibly wish for – more than one could possibly wish for. Why do I feel this hole still? I think some tree wisdom might be the antidote.”

The wind picked up. The crowns of the trees started swaying, a gentle symphony spinning itself out of the movement of branches and pine needles.

“Shhhh”, Way pointed her eyes to the large pine tree a bit further in. “Grandmother OakPine is about to speak”.

A soft, deep voice came out of the woods.

“My dear child – yes you are a child still – until you see yourself as whole, you will not feel whole. You have to listen to all those whispers you hear when you wake up, the whispers you hear throughout the day, as you settle in to sleep. Listen and decide which ones are you sending off and which ones are you inviting in to light your candles with. There are still whispers feeding the gap in your heart. Remember your meaningfulness, your limitlessness. The whispers you hear when you feel limited, closed up, like you are missing something – talk to them. Tell them you are Meaningful, you are Limitless, you are Bravery. Tell them their work is done here, thank them for their service, they are welcome to move on and you wish them all the joy and happiness the universe can gift them as they do. Then you stand tall like a fir, let the winds move you, feel your roots beautifully reaching down and spreading wide in the nurturing depths of Earth Mother, welcoming her Angels. And then you start anew. New moment, new Dawn, remember?”

“Now, that’s the Way”, Red laughing hard at her own cleverness.

 

Cecilia Götherström, Dec 17th 2019

 

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Kringlans Kalender 2019 / Meru’s Wisdom, Dec 13th

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“Tell me, dear human, tell me the story about the trees and the sparkles. About the blindness to the inner light.”

Way curled up next to Dawn this morning after the 13th full moon. The morning the Queen Of Light paced in.

“My dear Red, my dear Way”, Dawn put one hand on the red wolf’s back, feeling the warmth of Way’s breathing spine through the palm of her hand. One. All Dawn could sense was one-ness. Way turned her head towards Dawn, nodding with her eyes to the one-ness-sense.

“ I could tell you the official story of the tree being put indoors, the one we are taught in school, but that’s not right. I felt it already back then in my bones, in every cell of my being,  that it’s just boring, flat, facts.”

“So tell me, dear Dawn, what your heart speaks. Your heart connected to Meru’s Wisdom, connected to all of us.”

Dawn took a moment, gazed through the landscape, soaking it all up with her eyes. Then she began.

“We always revered the tree, the trees. The wisdom unceasingly came to us through them. Then somewhere, gradually, along the line we lost it. We lost the wisdom. We lost the connection. We lost the joy, the spark, the light. Not literally, but we misplaced it. Or maybe it went in to hiding. I don’t know.”

Meru, Star, Elo, Wizard, Craft and Blue the pup joined in. Dawn continued.

“It felt like a long arm reaching out in the dark, grasping, fingers searching, palm sensing. Nothing.

Then somebody remembered the tree. That the tree was the doorway, the gate back to magic, to connection, to light.

She started decorating the trees with sparkles, with stars made of twigs, with shining rocks, with fallen leaves, with adorned pinecones. Gently she felt the light returning inside her heart, her ears, her eyes and soon she even started speaking light. All her words were woven with starlight, connection, silver threads. Alves, the Nisse, giants, trolls, fairies, dwarves, dragons, every being of nature’s realm came out of the perceived darkness, decorating the woods with her. The people of the valley woke up one morning mesmerized with the beauty of the trees, of the serene sense of peace in the woods. They decided they wanted to hold on to this, to bring it indoors.

Little by little they started moving the trees in. Everyone to their own home. Doors closed. One tree in each household. Eyes admiring the beauty. Magic getting sprinkled in their own house. Nisse moved in. He wanted to be the connection between in there and the light of nature out here. It worked for some time. Especially around the 13th full moon. That was a long time ago though.”

“Oh my”, Way replied. “Where and how do we begin with writing the new story?”

“By choosing wisely”, Meru spoke.

 

Cecilia Götherström, Dec 13th 2019

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Kringlans Kalender 2019 / Meru’s Wisdom, Dec 11th

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She rolled over on her side. Noticed the morning star making its way upward through the clouds of her outbreath, the sound of the waves swaying against the rocks mixing with the melody of the singing ice further up.

Meru lay close to her head, curled up with his large snout tucked in between some driftwood and moss.

Dawn got up, made her way quietly over to Meru, buried her nose in the wolf’s neck, let his fur tickle and tingle her face, inhaled and exhaled the warmth of his being – the scent of the forest, the streams, the mountains, the plains, the wild soul, the entire wilderness. Sometimes she felt so much more like a wolf herself than a human. There was a peace in being part of this wilderness which was impossible to describe.

She had always been a joyous child. Even though she never ever felt like there was a solid base of anything or anyone holding her, she’d always felt a net of connectedness somehow. Through places and people, songs, stories, words, movement, magic.

Out here in the wilderness all that came together as one. Out here in the wilderness she felt held more than ever. The connectedness was the base out here, there was no difference. The moss was her mother just as much as it was her father and her siblings, just like the wolf was, the mountains, the sky, the trees and everything was.

Out here she was becoming aware of her own inner wilderness. The wilderness which needed the waters to flow un-obtruded by dams and myths. The wilderness where the mountains talked to the stars. The wilderness where she danced with the winds, sang with the wolves, fished with the bears, reflected herself in the light of the moon. Where she just Was.

Meru rolled around, stretched, yawning himself awake and aware.

“You know what Dawn,” he morning- growled out. “You humans love to give each other a whole range of names, reminding you of your family, your lineage and all that. You actually have three.”

“Three?”, she sat up, looked the grey wolf straight in to his eyes.

“Yes, my child. Dawn. Faith. MorningStar.”

“Dawn Faith MorningStar….”, she repeated.

“And I have added “Of The Paws””, Meru smiled.

 

 

Cecilia Götherström, Dec 11th 2019

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Kringlans Kalender / Meru’s Wisdom, Dec 7th

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“Mera Man Lochai gur darshan taa-ee”

The fragile tunes of the mantra weaved through his dreams, like ornaments of stardust. He was floating, soaring, above a room. Everyone present dressed in white. White roses, dark green leaves, adorning a white coffin. A funeral.

His own?

He heard himself thinking “That’s a beautiful tune for the beginning of the ceremony”.

The whole place filled with people seemingly angelic in presence. What was going on here?

“Bilap karay chaatrik kee ni-aa-ee”

“I miss you Beloved”, he sensed himself thinking in this dreamlike state. Then he seemed to fade away in to the starlight.

A comet across the morning sky. It appears to land further down the pebble beach. He is drifting in and out of different dream states, not sure of what is real.

The comet had indeed landed. It was however not a comet.

Star felt the slippery, icy, black pebbles underneath her paw pads. She turned her nose in all directions, greeting each cardinal direction with its own symbol, followed by its own growl.

Then she sensed him. Further up the rim of the water she could discern something moving up and down, the rhythm of a breath. Smoke from every exhalation pouring out over the almost frozen sea. The bundle whom lay there breathing was out of tune. She could feel that clearly. Next to it rested layers of moss.

Wizard!

Thank heavens she had found him before anyone else did! Had the moon been up he’d been taken away by the veils hours ago. With Sleeping Moon he’d been left in peace.

Why did watching him sleep make her think of an ancient funeral pyre?

The old had to be revered, reviewed, ceremonial movements honouring it. It had to be dressed in white, taken down to the river leading out into the endless ocean, sent off into the void, fire lit.

That is what was going on. The old wizard was transmuting the whole thing, the whole legend, in his sleep. Did he ever not work?

There. Morning Star was rising. Moon was coming back up through the horizon.

Star was standing next to him now. Breathing on his cold feet to wake him up gently. When proved fruitless she dug her large fangs into the pile of moss, gripping the staff with her jaws, shaking it to shake him awake.

 

Mera Man Lochai

 

Cecilia Götherström, Dec 7th 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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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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The Song Of Me

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The Song of Me,

flies over snow covered mountains,

sings a spring time creek to its cover.

The song of me,

crosses hearts and barriers,

opens, moves and births.

 

The song of me,

is for no one else to sing,

but to blend in to

the song of all of us.

 

The song of birth, of cry, of worship,

of destinations

time and again.

 

The song of me breaks open,

moves crystals and rocks

into blessings.

 

The song of me cracks open,

that which is to be said,

to be done,

to be laid down,

to be rendered,

reunited,

rewed,

regained, retwined, regranded.

 

The song of me,

sings to the eyes of the soul

to the song of the gods

the eyes of the stars.

 

The song of me is the soul,

the spare, the twining twister,

the ever splendid galaxy of tears,

of joy,

of magic,

of serenity,

of wisdom,

of class and doom.

 

The song of me

is mine to sing,

thine to hear,

ours to twine

and twine and twine.

 

The song of me,

is of me strong,

of me being creation,

of me being all.

 

The song of me,

is of All.

 

The song of me

is you,

the you that is not

as me is.

I am

the song of me

 

Divine

 

 

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Cecilia Götherström, Gävle 13/3 2015