The Alchemical Rede Magazine
By Clarity
By Clarity
September 6th Issue
Waiting In The Still Point Is Now What Deeply Moves Our LIfe Introduction:
What is called for now is Process, and the awareness of its accountability.
Waiting In The Still Point Is Now What Deeply Moves Our LIfe
How easy it is to wait in the quiet moments, yet how strong is the pull to go, go, go. Inner and outer meet up and you decide within the moment of breath which way to Be.
How many times does the story turn the page, how many times are we at a cross-roads, how many times are we able to pick and choose how far we can move, how far we can become?
The wave dissolves the last, and allows the next to become. Our Papered Awareness is told through the grace of becoming and the allowance we give ourselves to Be.
When the edge is up close, and the feet find little room to stand, then the wings take effect and lift our spirits beyond the contractive, limited, resolve that becomes little more than a turn-about to the same conundrum.
Allow the dissolve to truly move obstructions out of your way, and allow you the beauty of your own breath breathing in the beauty of all around you. We are surrounded, but it is beauty that creates the doorway, the Portal through.
When asked the formula of ability, put down numbers and letters in an harmonical sequential order, and the alchemy will find you able to mix the elements into a configuration that upholds your ability to express creatively.
Still Point, a place of breath, a space of time, a reach for essence, and the fragrance of Story. To tell and tell again, is the Twice Told of what becomes sacred to you, in your effort and ability to stretch.
The radius reaches the curve, and the circle feels its touch, the touch registers to connection and the dot at the center of it all travels itself forward, along the rim, and brings motion into movement.
Movement becomes sound and consciousness that emits light, and the light forms platonic solids that fabricate consciousness into matter. Matter is what centers the Story, and elicits telling the spoken of Word, from thought/ mind to pin/pen.
We stitch together the Cloth of Witness, and felt with needled precision the ease of Zero Point to Still Point. The shift occurs as the breath takes in the realization of difference.
See the shift, the mind’s eye does, and the Curve is brought in close, as you have traveled the Distance and met with the Round. Now you pierce your consciousness with new beginnings, and this creates a greater view.
Bee yourself, the flight you make is the flight you own, and the dissolvement of limitational reason. Stories are beyond reason for a reason, and the Rabbit Whole is far deeper than first imagined.
When the second hand sweeps past the first hand, and the third hand begins to applaud, then you know second hand is on first and re-purposed is worth its wait in Gold. Elementary, simply elementary.
What points to Time is second nature, and what keeps up with Space is the expansion of expression, so that the minute becomes and hour, and hour becomes a day, and a day becomes a year, and a year becomes a millennia.
Eon after eon, letters and numbers have followed one another, they are the original social media, except that they always hearted each other, rather than withheld to hold a score.
Your question is answered in the weight of the elements, some heavier than others, some lighter than Air. Manna, Ormus, that lifts the elemental gravities that equate Earthbound with dense.
To the Point, the Zero, or Circle, orbits the Dot in the Center and manages to resonate a frequency that creates Expression. The notes of which make up the harmonics of Bliss.
To find Joy is to find the resonant factor that feeds life, and the Bee leads us to the Flower. Gardened within our Soul’s reach, we orbit the Center of ourselves, and travel the waves that particle our Papered Awareness.
Created within this resonating factor are the rhythms and beats that cause Pulse to blood its color to the Thread of Life, the Red Thread that weaves each cellular registry into a fine-toothed comb.
The Goddess Comb of Self-Reliance smooths out the tangles and arranges the flow of Thread to Position, so that the ease of Crownial Evolvement becomes natural and with combined energy of Spoken.
Finding the Voice, the Mother Tongue requires a willingness to listen deeply, and Round your numbers up. Any remainders roll over into the next Whole Rabbit, and this brings the tunnel from wormhole to rabbit hole.
Catching the wave as an extension of Self Realization, allows the Voice to permeate the atmosphere with an environmental equation that adds up the left-overs and feeds the Fire of Appetite, so that what was over-looked, becomes worthy of consideration.
Waiting in the Still Point moves our life in ways that unfold us, and as we crease and bend throughout the manylayered perspective, we Square ourselves into a perpendicular alignment, so that what was in the Corner becomes sped up.
As we follow the up, we are discovering the multibranches Mycelial Network and our Rooted Path gains ground. The ease becomes adjacent to the forward and the gains of connection become obvious.
Placing our foot forward, we can see the rounded turn and the acceleration as it moves our momentum into a deeper connection with Gaia. Our presence is needed and we are welcomed with the gifts of our Story.
No sooner are the notes and letters found favorable, that the sound of light enters a brilliance that awakens the color to blossom into a glimmering of joyfulness and gratitude.
Making Home our nestial haven, we are able to circumnavigate the entire curve of linear thought, and bring into focus the mapping of inner to outer coordinates.
Each set of maps adds to the overall picture and we are able to course our way forward with renewed hope and a great alliance of connecting Threads. The Spacial Orientation opens wide the ease and makes ready the Safety Made Real.
What questions arise are set to ease, and the dissolving difficulties are no more. This lends support to our efforts and allows us to increase our ability, to scale ourselves into a remarkable resource for telling.
We pin the pen to the canvas and multiply our reserves, so that what magic lies within can be brought out and used beyond the knot of no. We are free of too tight a weave, and now are able to set connections that last.
Broken threads are mended and the fibers are strengthened beyond frayed, this then opens the path to a resilience that becomes us, and you are able to find resonance within your own feet of measure.
Timed to perfection, the notes of Whole are far from lost, and the resonance is sounded far and wide. This brings resources to us, resources that we gladly share, and make available the Bee’s Honey, and the sweetness of our nature.
We are inside the nature of the Garden Plan, and the Red Thread Garden pitches her notes into a harmony that resonates and loosens the bound. Feel the ease become you, and allow your natural self to once again laugh and become Ease.
Speaking from the Center of the moment before, we learn what we have forgiven, and what we have not forgiven. We wander around the point of reference, until we meet one square in the eye, and then we make resolve our need.
When the compass changes its direction, the full narcissism that is needed for confidence, begins to emulate forward, and we fall in love with the Self of our Source, and know nothing more could send us here.
We follow the volume of the greatest breath we can inspire, and become the Air of its need, and fire the Cauldron of Ourselves in the alchemy of becoming Divine.
We hold the very nature, of the color of the deepest intensity, that love can live in, and we colonize all the centuries of ourselves.
The viscous nature, of this kind of love, is what creates a body that fills itself in with substance. We are not unattended, we are not uninvolved, we are brown as the dirt, cellularized in our most potent beginning.
The strange thing about this is, that it is even strange and sometimes unfamiliar, to the very birth of ourselves. A component of this nature is born in us anew each day, each eon, each foreverness.
We are what cuts through to the pink of every cell, and finds the Pulse of an inheritable resurgence. We have come to the holy of the holy, of what we are, and who knows us, even more than we do.
The saddened child repents its volume need, and still tries to make way for another. We are caught in the idea of caution, when that in itself remedies nothing.
The full scarcity of thought, when right and enters the Garden slot, is that the Seed has already been here before, and it knows its way around the Garden Plan.
It also knows it was invited, so don’t write about it and walk away, but instead write inside of it and become the whirling dervish of words, that has no meaning to anyone but you.
Be the Source of your own words, be the written that you had not said, be the White on Black, and the Black on White. The process is your explorative genealogy.
You inherited genes of the genie, that knows how to be here and what is real, and what is not. Nobody comes that does not know, nobody comes that does not have friends, and friends do not always look the same, in any world or species.
Some are small, some are large, some are from here, and some are not, but what is important is that they are yours, and you are theirs, and don’t forget their name, and they never will forget yours. Be the namer, be the caller, be the awakening, awakened by what you know.
The notial composure of what writes in our mind is not often composed of the alphabet of mankind, because words are more than that can ever become, there is so much limit, hidden, scarcity, undermining, secret, in the language we all speak.
The process is so much more involved in meaning than words, the process is so much bigger than the box it sits in, that’s why its a Black Box, that’s why its a senior sentence, a widowed mark, an avatar of what White means when it is written on Black, and what Black means when it is written on White.
It is truly the checker squares of fairytales. The markings of matter takes time out, as content in the Black Box of Perspective.
The equation of volume swims inside the letters moving, like small fish, communicating through the waves of Water, the electromagnetic system of sound. The recipe of precision is decided in the process, and the process is squared inside the Black Box.
The formula for tasting wisdom is much deeper than any Well could draw up, the Water bucket rises on its own, because it has no bottom to end the supply of Water.
The grounding foundation of illumination is this bucket, inside this wishing well of dreaming. All the factors of the many Moses, lifted up from the basket in the river, starts out at the Well.
The Well of Wisdom, the Well of Confidence, the Well of Precision, and the Well of Process, all pour Water into the language that has no voice from an alphabet. It’s alive, and it moves inside the meaning of Intention.
The Spoken is a Voice wide open, so Black, that the Process falls into Place, like teeth biting into the Knowledge of what a body is for.
A body is for Volume, a body is an Intentional Void that the living can rise up through, and the living is the processor of the Planet. Those living are processing volumes of content, that comes out of the deep distance volume creates.
When we awake the process body of our intention, we become holy, holy a full nectar of wanting, without wanting there is no desire, without desire there is no need, and without need there is no process, and without process there is no life.
Process is a living awareness of desire, and desire is the need fire of the match lit. We are lit by the force of what calls to the beginning of ourselves, and always knows who are, because of the need that it knows exists.
We are now enamored by the tale of this becoming and its reach into consciousness, that brings thought beyond reason and into inspiration and gratitude.
Reason that limits the scope of imagination and holds itself to the confines of language only, cannot be vast enough for the reach that process becomes with each breath.
The quiet moment, between the in and out of breath, dissolves the limit and breaks the mold of never. Be calmed by the resonance of the Hum, as it reaches you and cups you up into your own Home of Becoming.
Coming through all the Boxes of Content we begin to realize our life is about the Process of this Content into our own awareness of who we are.