Cecilia / Sacred.

Part 6. December 6^th 2020.

 

Touch. Meeting. Fierceness.

 

Sacred.

 

Sacred Touch.

Sacred Meeting.

Sacred Fierceness.

 

Home.

 

Marcus was walking between the pine trees. Following path leading from the back of the house up to Beaver Lake. Here he could always take everything in. Listen. Listen to the whispers of his soul. Something his Great Ma had taught him to do.

 

Great Ma was not his grandmother by bloodline. She was the Grand Mother for everyone living scattered on this large space of land of mountains, streams, lakes, waterfalls, peaks, rocks, woods and wilderness. She was like the moon - always there, always still yet so powerful, always present. She had taught all the kids in school how to listen to The Whispers Of The Soul. 

 

When she retired from her position as woodwork, arts, crafts and music teacher at the village school she started giving drumming lessons in the village hall on Saturday mornings. Drumming and jojking.

Those Saturday mornings they had learned how to drum the questions, how to listen and then jojk or sing the answers as they came in.

 

Sacred Touch.

Sacred Meeting.

Sacred Fierceness.

 

The first two parts had moved in like pieces from a mystic veil. The last part, placed like a statement in the snow.

 

Marcus kept following the path. Stars started to fill up the sky as the sun disappeared behind the treetops, making way for the moon. He knew he had only scratched the surface. The phrases were an invitation to dig deeper, an instruction to plunge.

 

Symphonies never took plunges. They had crescendos, build ups, cross overs. Never plunges.

 

He was afraid that he would lose himself if he plunged. As soon as that insight hit him he stopped, sighed, raised his hands up to catch a few soft snowflakes falling off the pine branches.

 

“The soul lives in the unknown. It’s never happy, nor supposed to live in the known of the mind. It’s supposed to live in the heart. And the heart can only be fully open when you are open to fall. Fall to Grace. Fall in Love. Fall Over. Fall.”

He heard Great Ma as if she was speaking from the space between the pine needles, the space inside the pine cones.

 

“Keep walking son. Keep following her footsteps. Remember in your heart where she wanted to go, what she wanted, what gave her joy, what made her strong, what released her, remember and follow that”, the voice spoke to his entire Beingness.

 

Her name. He had to speak her name out loud to be able to reach that magic again. Why was it so hard to do that?

 

Home.

He just wanted to call her Home.

 

He fell to his knees in the snow, laid down on his belly making a snow angel, his face buried in the snow. He rolled over. Lay on his back, caught falling snow flakes with his tongue like when he was a kid, watched the stars, the tops of the firs moving back and forth, back and forth, covering and revealing, covering and revealing.

 

That was it! Covering and revealing. Covering and revealing!

 

“Star”.

He spoke her name out loud.

 

“Star!”

 

-       Cecilia Götherström, December 6th 2020