Cailleach, Ancient One of mountain and frost,
stone-boned wise woman, shaper of land and time -
we call to you from the stillness of the North.
You who walk the windswept moors,
who carry the weight of ages in your cloak of storm,
come with your silence.
Come with your truth.
Teach us to listen beneath the noise,
to honor the endings that make way for beginnings.
You who crumble cliffs with your staff
and seed life in the hollow bones,
guide us in surrender, in patience,
in the deep rest that restores all things.
Wrap us in your mantle of snow and shadow.
Let us remember the strength in stillness.
Let us root, endure, and become wise.
Close your eyes and step into a snow-covered landscape. The world is hushed, blanketed in white. Trees stand bare, breath turns to mist, and the stars above are
sharp and countless.
You feel the pulse of the earth beneath the frost, slow and deep, like a drumbeat in the dark. Then, through the quiet, she comes - Cailleach.
Tall as a stone cairn, her face weathered as the mountains, her eyes gleam like ice and fire. She carries a great staff of gnarled wood, and as she walks, the earth beneath her transforms - old dies back, and new life stirs in secret.
She stands before you and places a cold hand over your heart. The chill moves through you - not to harm, but to cleanse. She speaks with a voice like cracking ice, “Be still. Let it fall away. What is meant to remain will endure.”
Breathe in the silence. Breathe in the depth. You are not lost - you are becoming. When you are ready, return, carrying her ancient knowing in your bones.
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