By Clarity
All Eternities Become Simple Days of Building Presence
Introduction:
Forwarding the space of content, we learn to realize more about what above and below really is, and we begin to savor its content.
Listening for the crunch, the crispy layer to give way, for the swallow of whole. We are consumed and we consume, we are eaten and we eat, we are devoured and we devour.
We taste and are tasted, as we become more in the building of our own layers made Real. Wholesome and whole sum, an equation of numbers and letters, adding up.
Listen up and dig down, reach for the Soul of your work, large or small, both valued beyond limitation. Fold and bend into it, as the page is turned and the earth is turned, over and over again.
Rotate your crops, rotate your world, turn over the row, furrow more than your brow, dig into the soil, that deep rich earth, and plant yourself firmly by the flowers and herbs you grow.
Know the language of your heart, step firmly, then lightly, on the ground of your building eternity. Simple, elegant, rich, and above all, beneath your own feet. Step into the folding nature of the Garden, corrugate within its branches.
Be Treed with delight, climb the steps up into the Orb, the Ra, the Boat of Wreathed Equations. The Cathedric Crownial Climb embarks upon the journey of Fairy Tales made Real.
Sink your teeth into the crispy crust of the Mantle of Gaia, listen for the crunch that goes so well with Tea. Come into the Garden and sip in the nectar of Compassion, Wellbeing, and an abiding relationship to Mother Earth.
As we fold into our deeper Papered Awareness, we count ourselves as number in frequency and sound pattern construction, Built from Love, we enumerate the ways that corrugate and crease into flesh, the Etheric.
What is invisible becomes visible, as desire grows and the threads are needled into place. The weave is tightened and provides the necessary strength to hold Water. The element from which we emerge.
Mer in content and intent, we whale as we are born into the Air, and we lung our way into speech. The Mother Voice soothes us and the calm we feel is there as the swaddling most needed.
The Garden is the map of the Mother, and it is she, who we follow in footstep after footstep. We snake our way first, with the crawl, the crawl of the belly, then hands and knees, picking up all the microbes available to us, and finally the two feet.
The split infinity; left to, and right away, each calling us forward. Growing like a weed, we stumble forward, reckless and seeking. We are hue-man, made entirely of sunlight, color.
The distance we travel is endless, centered in our own dot of precision, we circumnavigate the orb we are. Our radius is equal to all our parts, and the angles that we combine make us creators.
The enthusiastic heart beats within us and we listen to what we need, want, and desire that meets the resonance of our Soul. Each note is placed for us by the rhythmic harmonies of the All.
Framed into existence, we body ourselves into arms and legs, torso and head, and we admit that what is Is. Presence is built, simple by simple, easy by easy, until we feel the matching.
There is no effort in consuming the ease, no effort in consuming the simple, the distance is corrugated and becomes simply easy for us to digest. Internal are the changes and easy is the way forward.
Step your foot and you will begin your travel. Follow the Red Thread, whether visible or invisible to you, and know your way is lit, and the Flower of Life blooms for you continuously.
Everlasting, infinite, lighted by the Source, regarded by many as without time, and beyond space. Papered Awareness has the ability to weave, fold, bend, crease, and levitate numbers and letters off the surface of limitation.
Holographic interference is dissolved, and the Thread tightens the noose on the Not. Yes is the preferred reference point and the movement reaches across the abyss.
Making place pardoned of its own will, and creating room for what is to sit within it, to enhance itself. The coming forward is immense, and is thought of as small, but small is always immense, and one should know that by now.
If you are small, and you are made to feel small, you are what can absolutely heal the world, abolish hunger, make hundreds of agreements, like George Washington Carver, who saw no small in anything.
He would get up early in the morning, to go out and walk and talk to the immensity of the world, of the woods, of the flowers, of the herbs, that were always tall to him. If you feel small, as we do at times, do not crouch down to hide from the large.
You are large in the Garden and the Garden is large in you, so stand up tall in the leaves, and be counted for, as petal, stamen, pistil, and stem. Be part and whole of all that grows, and allow the purfundary to fill your day.
All that carts along the path make it nutrient compostible, and grow your nectar from it. Become irritating to the confined, and move over your bucket of need, to be filled.
You may seem bombastic, but the Earth thinks you’re fantastic. It loves your need for roots, it loves your need for color, it loves your sometimes green feet and black toes. You are smarter than the latest rodent, and more caring than the bragging weeds, even if they don’t know your name.
Call them all by their common names, because you are more familiar than the garden technology, which makes lists and lists of foreign names, that no flower can read. Those funny little enunciations, that there is a higher up and lower system that real flower don’t engage in.
Be the outcast that climbs the fence and hangs over the pickets, because you want everyone you know, how special the garden inside truly is. The narrow escape that adventurers in the garden, like you and me, gives us strong legs and good backs, that dunk like donuts.
So square yourself up, like a good perspective, and never leave out what they want left out. The consent of the Garden is always in the Red Thread, and it takes your lineage and rolls it out as if it is needed in the Pulse of the world, the planet, the galaxy, the universe, and solar system.
A galactic presence is on your name tag, so that no one will forget who you are in this world, as Real and needed, and listened to. Rounding up the pickets, we now count the stitches of Red Thread, that have become ourselves in the Garden Plan.
Up and down the Sacred Spiral we climb, like Morning Glory, Moonflower, Clematis, or the Red Bean Runner. We’ve made a space for you to reach the heights, so that the Garden Plan meets the needs of the Cathedric Climb. You are partnered by the Men of Neith, who have now entered the Garden Plan and seeded her speed, and mycelial connection to Infinite Light. The Dakini of the Infinite Light watchers over you, and assures to lift the darkness of any troubled times.
You are now engaged to the Wedded Circumference, and the rings of power in every Tree connects to the Threads of your Gemmo needs. You wake up to the forest that exists in your bedroom, and you listen to their words of gentle compassion, and you realize that they already know you well. You who are wellspring of Infinite Light.
You are coming into the Golden Arrow of Precision, and your Sherwood Forest is filled with the Men of Neith. Your council is seated and ready, call their names: Blackthorn, Hawthorn, Ash, Spindle, Rowan, Willow, and Oak, Elder, Birch, Apple, Sliver Fir, Honeysuckle, Reed, and Hazel, Alder, Yew, White Poplar, Aspen, Beech, Elm, Holly, Fig, Olive, Wild Privet, Sycamore, Ginkgo, and Walnut, Lime Tree, Maple and more.
We are caught in nature, in its net of many wonders, and we are woven into the hedgerow that protects the Garden Plan. We make ourselves available 24/7, by listening for the crispy crunch of words that come barreling in at all times.
Number yourself as part of the Papered Awareness, folded into the crease and noted by B: Bee, Becoming, Bold, Brave, Blessed. The volume of need sings its flavors and we get a taste of gratefulness.
Noting yourself to Be, you become more with each breath of Awareness, bringing to yourself and others the gifts the Flowers, Herbs, and Trees are. We bask in the arrival, we partake of the bounty, we envelope ourselves within the Mycelial Network of Neith.
Connected, we are able to consume the distance with ease, as we corrugate our field, atmosphere, and environment, which allows the folding to crease its origami measure into an operative finding.
Found by the Lighted Way, we easily step up the resonance, our signal is heard, and we connect form to form, geomatric to geomatric, line, shape, number, and word.
Combined, we make up all that is necessary to build Presence. Be Present in the Garden, allow your digits to furrow through the rich loam, the garden soil, the 4 dirt deep that layers us into rising.
We engage into the needed and we bring resonance into the field of registry. As we move forward, we reach out and are connected in the reaching. The Red Thread assures us that the woven is tight, secure, and safe.
Support is forth-coming, and we are placed in the exactness of planetary need, galactic want, and universal desire. We are companions to world beyond world, and the energy is etheric in nature and natural to own balance.
We let down into the composure of gratitude, the net of Neith sustains our journey, as we gather up the colors needed to portray the torus that folds life around and through us.
Play comes to us with ease, shows us how the intense, and thought difficult, is simply components of large made small, and in the reduction, alchemy places its Situla into a precision.
Precise, exact, and forever flexible, the natural moves as tree limbs sway, as deep roots vibrate, as we move with such mobility that it looks as though we are standing still.
Bringing the vast distance up close, we dig down ‘4 dirt deep’ and find the layers of time and space woven by the threads, pointed, picketed, and needled into place, for the safety of the Pulse.
Each breath reminds us of our obligation to ourselves, and each other, that whatever is Is, and the Is is being itself at all times. We unfold to change what is, into what becomes, and we are always becoming.
The folding space, that narrows the picket of the Red Fence in the Garden of the Red Thread, carries the scores of each mark that carries the Intention. Each picket carrying the V of intention of the next.
Each scored pattern held in a forked Intention of ‘4 dirt deep’, the intention of the auger, as it fortifies the boundaries. One pattern forking into another, creating a picketing affect that threads through the lineage memory.
Pyramidial is the effect, above and below, tetrahedronic connection of above and below. The fetal position of intentional birth, the wide scope of the eye, as the needle goes through the perforated perception of the postage stamp immensity, of the large within the small.
The dream nature forgiven is pencilled down tooth by tooth, picket by picket, like pinned to the Papered Awareness of planetary consciousness. The folded nature of forever carried within the code of the crease and bend, the verified acquaintance of above and below.
Too many collared colors, not verified by their depths as essential to the Mark of Red. Primary and equation, one of the first folds of the first to be most intent, in penetrating through the bodies codial system awareness.
The Made is now more consistent, because it has been remembered fully in the Red Thread, pulling forces of desire through the needled awareness of Divine Intent.
The response of realization undoes the knot, and initiates the Knot of Ten and the spelling out is made, as Compassion in a world that has forgotten the importance of the letter C, an Octavial command.
One sphere ready, as we have been before, the Thread drops down through the Eye of the Needle, and the Garden of our Privilege is sealed.
We count ourselves as threaded through, and stitched into the deep layers of the fabric of our Intention. Our eternity is simple, it comes to us easily, and we do not forget to play.
Mounting no obstacle, we endeavor to build the most Feylined spot of a dot, a Center that calls to us all, the cast of characters willing to be Listening, willing the be Hearing, willing to be Speaking the Language of the Mother Tongue.
Closure:
Forwarding space, like a post gram, post script, postage stamp, we begin to get our mail more on time, more daily, more precisely inside the answer.
Publishers: Raven Su.Sane & Robert Hake
