Sacred River

The river was obstructed.

Manuela of the Elders had called to a tribe meeting.


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

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

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.