Song Walk in Österlen


"Siyahamba - We are marching in the light of God" is reverberating underneath the beech canopy as we walk in this verdant paradise, heads high and hearts wide open.
The light is divine, it filters through the dense rooftop but seems to emanate as much from the ground itself, giving the space in between this magic sheen. It is a room where man walks happily and breathes lightly.

Another song line comes to my mind as the path narrows and the singing turns to reflection: "Lyft jorden upp mot ljuset! - Lift the earth up towards the light!" These magnificent beeches do exactly that: they lift the earth up to the sky in exaltation. And us lesser mortals who have the sheer privilege to walk in their company lift up our eyes and our souls.

It's a royal hall we are walking through. The royal crowns of the trees are standing guard on either side of the path as we pass. We stretch and walk as kings among kings.

Time to rest - and sing some more - underneath a walnut-tree in somebody's garden along the way that was readily offered to us.

And if the trees are our great inspiration to our walk so are the birds to our singing. It is just magnificent. The nightingale sings as we fall asleep and wake up a few hours later having embedded our dreams in the most dreamlike of soundscapes. And as we walk out into the day the masters are excelling from every bush and tree. One image that has stayed on my retina is one I caught in my binoc's early in the morning: A wren going for it, full on. If there ever was an image of the lust of singing this is it: The diminutive bird giving his all from the wide-open gape to the tip of his tail, shivering of lust and ecstasy and the most beautiful sounds. When it comes to the ratio of decibel/weight in the bird world the wren surely must be top notch. Not to mention the freshness of his cascades.

I cannot ask to sing like him, but God - grant me his devotion...

At the end of the road: Saint Olof's church in Österlen, Skåne, Sweden.

At the end of our path the pilgrimchurch in Saint Olof receives us with bells ringing. We dance around and sing some old songs that these stone walls could have heard almost a millenium ago. Then we borrow the axe from the old medieval sculpture of Saint Olof as thousands of pilgrims before us and stroke it over us as we pray for healing.

Healing is of the mind. If an axe can help us restore our minds, how wonderful in this our time of irrational rationality.

One thing is sure: we all feel greatly healed and whole after a day of walking and singing in the green light of God.


Popular posts from this blog

At the breakfast table

Åke Edvinsson, 60 år

Olof Palme till minne