Kringlans Kalender 2019 / Meru’s Wisdom, Dec 6th

northern_xmas_by_morgainelefee_d4jrwfm-pre

“Pinecones and moonstones, pinecones and moonstones, pinecones and moonstones….”

The words rung like a mantra in her head. Or were they flying in from the multitude of birds busy collecting the last twigs, berries and seeds before the sheet of snow covered all the goodies?

”Pinecones and moonstones?”

In her dreams last nights he had been visited by a white reindeer, carrying what the reindeer herself called ”the message of oneness”.

See the whole Universe in a stone”, she’d said.

As they had been sitting there together in her dream, watching the Aurora Borealis swirling across the sky, it was pretty easy to picture how to  ”see the whole Universe in a stone”. The Aurora looked like crystals, the sky was covered with crystal-shimmering stars, their breath turned to crystals there in the cold night, they held crystals in their hearts – heck, they actually were crystals come to think of it!

And not only crystals are stones. All stones are stones, ” Elo the reindeer had blinked through her large eyes filled with the glow of planets towards her.

 

”Pinecones and moonstones? Of course, moonstones are stones. But the pinecones?”, she was wondering there in her waking state.

”Pinecones are the eternal signs of gratitude, the portals to the larger universes, to the wideness where the void speaks and the darkness sings”, she heard his voice tell.  Meru was of course in her mind, like she was so often invited in to his but not yet always awake enough to notice.

”OK”, she said. ”Now what?”

”We will go out and collect moonstones and pinecones,  build our own Medicine Wheel with them.” He stretched, ready to get up and go. ”For each pinecone, one moonstone”.

”How on earth will I find that many moonstones?”, she muttered to herself quietly. ”I mean pinecones are everywhere, but moonstones….”

”Ain’t that interesting Little One?” Meru mused. ” ”Pinecones are everywhere”. That means the whole ground, the whole forest is scattered with gratitude. What do you think happens when we pick that gratitude up, hold it, connect with it? I think moonstones will follow!”

She realized she understood his point but not really what it meant nor why they needed to build a Medicine Wheel. She also knew that asking would lead nowhere. The instruction was clear – pick up the pinecones,  a.k.a. the gratitude,  and the moonstones would follow a.k.a. the what-ever-they-were-she-would-find-out.

 

– Cecilia Götherström, Dec 6th 2019

 

 

Kringlans Kalender 2019 / Meru’s Wisdom, Dec 5th

680d6ad24cd99b04b7f5938bb09d463d

 

His shrivelling hands reached up to the skies. The nine falling stars met the node of his staff. A flash of lightning, a scream of connection, the wind ceased blowing and the earth whispered for a little while.

The wizard stepped down from his stone. Tired. Weary. He should be happy. Should be fulfilled. He was too tired to feel anything. He needed to lie down.

Crawling,  his hands searched for  the softest stones on the pebble beach. The waves were gently caressing the rocks. No tide tonight, just the movement of a silently dancing starfish and dolphins.

His hands found a spot of stones carefully polished by eons of ice and water. Here he would rest. Here he would regain himself.

He laid down, placing the staff beside him, covering it with the grey cloth and moss he carried in his pouch. He leaned in to the stone covered earth. Closed his eyes. Sssshhhhhhh…..

New stories would be written. Covering up what was between the old stories and the now. But who would write them? He was worried. Sssshhhhh….

The mist of sleep fell over him. Lulling him in to the space in between the veils. No moon tonight. What was to come?

– Cecilia Götherström, Dec 5th 2019

 

Kringlans Kalender 2019 / Meru’s Wisdom, Dec 4th

Winter_Snow_Fir_Night_509182

“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

 

 

I am sorry House

Blog4 Blog2

I am sorry House,
that I could not love you.

My heart was closed,
too busy holding on to pieces,
already broken
I was.

I could not see,
your tender care,
your solid hold,
you doing what you do best,
shelter.

I could not feel
warm, ancient soil
underneath my feet
lifting pine trees to the sky
welcoming crystal white covers
to carry us into the depths of the woods
in the company of ravens, eagles, moose and myths.

I was not hearing
the soaring air,
the speaking winds,
the soft whispers of comfort,
the Soul of the land
speaking to my broken soul.

My heart could smell,
could touch the sun,
could caress the moon,
sing with wolves and wonders
– but not under your roof.

I am sorry House,
for not living
while I inhabited your space.

I am sorry House,
for just grieving
in your warm arms.

I am sorry Mountain,
for loving you more
than I love myself,
for finding life, joy, wonder and purpose
on your hilltops.

I am sorry Mountain,
for capturing your soul into mine,
for the bliss of oneness
which only you know.

I am sorry Mountain,
that I cannot live that gift, that passion
for now and ever after more.

If anyone will ever ask,
I shall say;
The Mountain holds my Soul.

Cecilia Götherström, May 7th 2015

Blog5