Sacred River

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The river was obstructed.

Manuela of the Elders had called to a tribe meeting.

“Beloveds.

Somewhere along our most honoured snake of sacred water, something is blocking the flow. Our ancient one is not moving the way she should.

If this continues the river will die and so will we. Unfortunately, she is blocked somewhere in the depth. We have to approach this differently as a tribe.

We will have to trust the sacred mirror and know that any action within will without fail be mirrored in the outer realm.

I have consulted our Ancestors, and this is what we have to do. We are all invited to take a sincere look at any big rocks that obstruct our own living water.

To give an example, I will share with you one of the obstructing rocks to my Soul’s flow. I worry too much. I know better, but still allow worry to block the flow that was given to me by birthright.

So today Beloveds, I declare to you that worry will be lifted and removed from my inner sacred river. I need to put into practice the wisdom that I have been taught:

That trust and surrender, next to soulful action, is the only way to life a life as big and light as it was intended.

It is our lineage of love to allow our rivers to flow freely.

I give you this task and I know that you will clear up your mutual, inner realm. Thank you for being the river.”

With these words, Manuela left and was not seen for months and months.

Many rocks were gently lifted from the stream when she was away. Jealousy. Fear. Resentment. Arrogance. Pride. Doubt.

In the spring when Manuela returned, they all celebrated together. The River had found its flow and the tribe was more radiant than ever.

 

 

The Song of the Dragonfly

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The story of the Dragonfly is a strange tale.

It is a story for the aching heart, the tired mind, for the awaking soul.

When the Dragons left this dimension eons of time ago, or maybe just a second ago, to live, love and breathe more freely in a lighter dimension, it was decided they would keep two promises.

They would still inhabit the Earth, only shift their home frequency to another dimension. They would also leave visible helpers behind. These Dragonflies would remind human beings that the Dragons were still around.

The White Mother Dragon of stillness spoke before their ascension began.

“Our helpers will be of the element fire, but will live in water and therefore be a portal between worlds even in their physical form.

They carry our magic and heat but glinster like water. They will transmute sorrow and confusion with the frequency of their wings. They will help human beings understand that they can call for us in times of trouble.

Humans have forgotten that some of the bewinged helpers they can sense, are us. Dragons. Proud carriers of magic and fire. Tied to Mother Gaia since her birth.

The Dragonflies can hear you. We can hear you.

It hurts to wake up, but the beauty of it is beyond descriptions. Many tales will be told to try though.

So this is what we want you to know. When you see a Dragonfly, ask to hear its song. And know that we are near.”

 

 

 

The Weary Dove

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Once upon a time in a peaceful village, a boy found a dove sitting next to his garden tools. It did not move at all so he assumed it must be ill. It was marked though, had a ring around its left leg and looked different from the other village doves. Finer, with stripes running along its sides. If he came too close it brushed up and looked like a furry ball. But it didn’t look scared, not at all.

He threw a few crumbles of his bread at it, but no. Nothing. Not a sound. No movement.

If he would have been as wise as his grandmother who watched the whole scene from her window, he would know that the dove had a message for him.

It showed him how to just sit with whatever presented itself. To be still. To let the world be what it was at the moment and to take a rest from hunger and movement.

Just sit with it.

Let go of impressions, wishes, stories, reactions, travel, wind swirls and threats, real or imagined.

Just it with it. Whispered grandma from the kitchen.

 

 

Aro’s speech

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No one will ever forget the day when the great Wolf Chief Aro spoke about hunger.

Humans were also present at this gathering, silently and respectfully waiting for Aro to deliver his message.

– I want to talk to you today about hunger. It is the one thing in this Earth dimension that still has not been unpuzzled.

We, the wolves, have borne the vilifying words that humans have made up for us for centuries. We are monsters, murderous beasts to be feared, hated, controlled or killed.

We live in families and communities that are in every way as loving and layered as your human families and villages. And we only kill and eat when we need to sustain our survival.

But what is hunger?

How is it possible that human beings still haven’t looked into what it is they are camouflaging with their physical hunger? Why are so many human beings eating for so many other reasons than to sustain your survival and create health? For other reasons than hunger?
We have never once taken a life unless we needed to and felt we had the Great Mother’s permission to do so. Human take lives for so many reasons.

More interestingly, they eat for so many reasons.

Fellow human earthlings, if you, like most human beings on the planet, have an issue with what you eat or drink, that is wonderful.

I invite you to ask yourself what the deep hunger behind that hunger is.

You are invited to open the magic box of your own deepest hunger.

Behind all those layers of eating as entertainment, as comfort, to numb away what you feel, boredom, fear, pain, terror…there is an undescribable gift waiting for you.

I urge you to lovingly ask yourself what your deepest hunger is.

I urge you to re-member yourself.

I love you.

With these words, Aro left the gathering together with his inner circle.

And the humans were left with his puzzle.

The Buzzard and the Heron

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The Buzzard and the Heron were hanging out at the pond, having a conversation about things they had learned in their lives. The Buzzard was the first to share and said to his friend the Heron:

– Never listen to beings who call you lazy. Only beings who don’t understand energy would say something like that. Some animals have called me lazy because I can sit on a pole or in a tree for days.

 

– I know that, I have heard them say it, nodded the Heron.

 

– My hunting skills depend on the way I manage my energy. If I cannot soar effortlessly, like when it is raining or very cold, I make sure I save my energy so I don’t get exhausted. Prey will even come to me when I am recharging.

 

– Oh, I know this skill. I use it in the water.

 

– Right? Then when the air heats up again, I can soar. Hunt. Sing. This is something more beings should do, it is wisdom and not laziness.

 

The Heron threw his head back, making the black, long feathers on his head dance. He clappered his bill tips.

 

– Never thought about it that way before.

 

– What about you, my friend? Tell me about something that is important to you.

 

– Well, people and animals have tried to make up all kinds of stories about the fact that I don’t belong to a flock. I fly and hunt alone. There are saying things about how I am a loner, I am restless and all kinds of things I can’t really follow. But you know…even though some of the stories made up are interesting, it is simply who I am to live and move alone. It is my nature. Just like it is the nature of a Starling to move in a flock. Simple as that. Not really interesting. Just nature.

 

– That is true.

 

– So I guess it would be easier for everyone if we stopped making up stories based on our own experiences and just took beings in the way that they are.

 

– I agree, my friend.

 

And the Buzzard and the Heron flew off, both in their own direction.

 

Following their own nature.

 

 

Lisa and the Star People

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Lisa was sitting on a rock  in the middle of the forest behind her yellow terraced house.

There was a hole in the big rock that looked like a tiny gorge. Lisa imagined herself being really big and seeing this ‘mountain’ and gorge from above.

She squinted to imagine the trees growing on the sides of the mountain, the birds flying over it, the clouds brushing it. She imagined a line of people, tiny from her perspective, moving towards the top of the mountain together with their donkeys. The people were dressed in colourful ponchos and wore beautifully knitted hats with strings on the side.

She could see them patiently thread the tiny snake-like roads up the mountain. They did not speak but seemed happy to be ascending this imaginary mountain together.

Suddenly she felt something changing behind her and she turned from her helicopter view observation, only to stand in front of two very tall beings cloaked in white. They were a bit blurred, like a film projected on a wall. She looked up.

Lisa couldn’t think of anything to say.

– That’s a beautiful image you’re painting there high up in the Andes.

– In the what?

– The mountains. It’s lovely to visit places with your mind, don’t you think?

– What are you?

Lisa was right in between freaking out and being thrilled, she couldn’t choose how to feel.

– We are Star People. We are really good friends of yours, the Earth People. In fact, we are related.

– Are you human?

– No, we are star beings. But the humans are our family.

She blinked.

– Can you fly?

They laughed.

– We don’t exactly fly, we just travel but sort of without the vehicles you use for travelling.

– Are you angels?

– No. But they are family too. We are only stopping by today, short visit. And we have an important message for you.

Lisa leaned against the rock and held on to some moss to stay calm.

– That thing you were doing just now, when you were creating with your imagination, like travelling in your mind?

– Yes?

– We want to ask you to do that a lot. Those moments when you feel really good and light and limitless.

– Ok?

– We also want to ask you to help others do the same.

– But…everyone can do that.

– Yes they can. But they don’t. So we want to give you the very important task of helping them to remember how to do it and then help them to actually do it. Every day.

– But…why?

– This whole Earth-Star People-Angel family depends on it. Everything will be determined by what we can IMAGINE. TOGETHER.

Health. Peace. Nature. Climate. Science. Schools. Families. Do you understand?

– But…it’s just playing.

– Playing. With good, loving intentions. That’s what we need very very urgently. Are you in?

– You bet.

Big smile. Lisa had an important task. One that was fun too!

She started thinking about who to play with first,  and before she knew it the Star People were gone.

But not really.

The Buddha and the coughing cat

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Right behind a wall of old bricks, under a Eucalyptus tree and surrounded by roses and lavender, sat the Buddha statue. He was put there to spread peace in the garden.

Now and then the family living there would place precious pebbles in front of him and weed away the Dandelion.

The Buddha was laughing and his round belly seemed to water abundance into the thriving garden.

One day the Buddha was interrupted in his perpetual meditation by a sound he did not recognize. It came from the corner of the garden, behind and apple tree and a fig tree.

 

– Who is that and what is your intention in this garden of peace?

 

Only silence at first. After a few minutes the green foliage behind the trees started to move and out came the most sorry-looking cat you could imagine.

He was orange, skinny and all wet. He was coughing like a heavy smoker.

 

– I am Christo the Cat.

 

– I see. What are you doing in my garden?

 

– I have been kicked out of my home. I don’t know where to go.

 

– That’s quite a cough you have there.

 

– I have been out in the rain for days and now I have a bad cold.

 

– So maybe you could explain this to me…I know many cats who are free, who live in the wild. They never get wet and they certainly never catch a cold.

 

– But if you’re out in the cold you get ill, right?

 

– Do the ducks get ill? The crows? The deer?

 

– Well I…I don’t know. It’s just that I’ve heard so many stories about cold and illness…and I…feel really ill and…

 

– Stories. Let’s talk about stories. What’s your story, Christo the Cat?

 

– Well…I was raised in a family that wasn’t good to me. They kicked me and forgot to feed me and now they have kicked me out.

 

– And before you lived with them?

 

– I only remember that I had a beautiful, sweet mother and two sisters.

 

– Loving mother. Warm, sweet. And then a temporary stay with a family that was not a match.

 

– I guess you could put it that way.

 

– Is it possible that you are now set free?

 

– Well…but…I don’t have a home.

 

– No? Were you not born wild? Born to make your loving mother proud? Do you not have the skills, strength and intelligence to live and thrive in the wild?

 

– I have no idea.

 

– Maybe this story is only just beginning? Maybe you are now free to remember who you really are?

 

Christo coughed again, but somehow the cough sounded less miserable and convincing than just five minutes ago.

 

– You know what? said the round-bellied Buddha. You are always welcome in my garden. I suggest you get some sleep under that fig tree. Then, when you are rested, you can think a little bit about your story. Maybe you don’t even know your story yet.

 

Christo the Cat did. He slept and slept.

 

And then he wrote a new story.

 

In the wild.