Dec 8th / The Promise, part 8

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All of a sudden I felt intensly tired. All the travelling, the journey, the light – or the lack of it – , the long nights. Large spots in my memory had been whiped clean.

”There is really nothing to remember”, I could hear White say through my mind from afar. ”All that exists is here and now. The past is a reflection. The future is a reflection. When you stop, sit down and see then all comes together in this one moment. Magic. Understanding. Alchemy. Morphing. Forgiveness. Release. Letting go. Welcoming in.”

What would I do, where would I be without this wise Wolf Queen of mine?

”Glooooooooooria, in excelcis deeeo”, a childhood memory sang its thread through my mind. A soft breeze touched my cheek. Flying sparkles of gold movning swiftly through the cold evening air. Fairies!

The fae takes many shapes and forms. I knew that from my great grandma´s renderings.

These were gorgeous, glitterly, sweepingly strong as they danced around our shoulders, swirling a path for us out on to the ice.

Dragon was unwinding on the other side of the lake after her ordeal of making sure we got all the signs the Great Mother had wanted us to see. DragonWhite had cleared what she herself called Mirror Patches on the ice. I followed the fairies to one of them. Sat down. Kneeled over the open space while wiping the last dust of snow from the clear, dark surface. Something rolled across I could see in the corner of my eye. Little green stones. Malachites! A memory of a very dear soul sister from the far north. It made me smile inwards. I knew I was at the right spot.

Fox motioned over from the snowcave she´d built herself, sat down next to me, locked my eyes with hers. ”I am here with you all the way Sister”.

Time to let the soul peek in to the depths of the ice on High Lake.

At first it was just greyish. Like heavy rainclouds slowly growing lighter. The deeper my gaze sank the more the clouds opened up. Travelling through a thin veil I saw the Land of the Dragon taking shape below . Cherry blossom on their last day of bloom, petals falling gently to the ground. People gathering under the trees offering them all their love, admiration and connection. Further up ahead,  the mud road passing through the field of cherry trees were leading up the soft hills trailing towards the mountain range which legend here held was holding up the sky. My village from back then was somewhere among those mountains.

In an instant I knew what was about to happen.

 

  • Cecilia Götherström, Dec 8th 2018

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