Introduction:
The spoken word of a language is often filled with marked presence that abbreviates its meaning into digital squares, which then stretch the language into codial memory.
As we move our Soul’s Reach, we hear what is to be done, what is to be said, what action to take. We listen and the path in the Garden opens to us, as we open to it.
The Mystery lends us its immense curiosity, and we allow ourselves to be open to its notes, notes that open our heart and bypass all limitations. We are vulnerable, yet Safety Made Real is Real, and we are able to proceed multi-dimensionally through the fields of doubt, hesitation, and fear.
Looking for a response from the Divine, the Gaiac embrace is all encompassing and brings the joy we need, want, and desire, into our field of energetic memory. We remember the Mother Essence, and the flowers color our world with their tones of F; Fragrance, Fragility, Fortitude, and For Givingness.
We Breathe Borage for the courage it takes to listen so deeply that; the air goes quiet, the blood rushes, and the sound of inner and outer commingle into a deep planting of the Soul into the reach of rich dark loam.
Under our feet, the what constitutes us, makes us resilient and free from limitation. We are the breach that surfaces above water, the whale of our constitution sings the notes of the sea, and the C connects us to each other.
What the Earth gives, what Gaia gives, amounts to the letters, the numbers, the radial shift, and the immense that the planet, galaxy, universe, and solar system are comprised of.
We emit what we are given, we are the gift of our own makeup, we are the flower that petals its cycle along the path opened to the story fulfilling itself with the courage it takes to be healed.
On the heels of our own footsteps, we advance past the illusions, past the limitations, and we embrace the yielding factors of our Papered Awareness, allowing the fibers to weave their way through us.
The Red Thread begins, and as we follow the circumferic path, the round rocks and rolls us upright, so that we may see the scope and the breadth of a larger vision. To see your path open is to be planted firmly on Gaia.
The Mycelial network sends its messages along the rooted way, and we pick up the signals with our feet. The step forward knows the length to the end of the sentence, and the addition of the paragraph.
As we drink deeply from our own Situla, the water bathes us in its riches, and we are nourished. The sticks and the reeds weave their basket of gathering along the garden walls, making hedgerows of embracement and safety.
Courage is the step you take to travel inside, Borage gives its gift of the blue of acceptance, and we are wrapped in the swaddling effect of being cared for.
No longer fragile to the Pan demic, we cross the lines of population from one dimensional definition to another, each time bringing space to weave time together again.
Outside the grip of gravity, we are able to levitate the ideas needed, to procure the necessary ingredients, to make what is necessary necessary. Necessary comes with its own essence, and that essence is natural.
Nature owned itself at the start, and the rooting of its fibers grew from their own make up, adding the alphabet to its list of accomplishments, it went on to include the numbers that equated 26 to 8 and 8 to eaten, and appetite to hunger, and hunger to fed.
The Long list created the Long Spoon, and the bowl of Om was set out to feed those in need. Want and Desire sat down next to each other and ate from the bowl of Om, and the Ohm carries the resistance across the circuit.
Electrical in motion, the current sparks interest and star reaches its smallest and largest at the same moment. Making way for the branch to find its trunk, the Tree releases its sap, and the Maple of Norway provides the syrup of sweetness.
Tapped or untapped, it matters not, the knot has been undone and the release is sweet to the course. As the canopy begins its unfoldment, the Cathedric Climb navigates the map.
Unrooted begins to finally root, and the Home is found with ease. The abundance can now qualify its meaning and the flowers shift to increase their intensity of hue. The human is given Grace and the Garden is open to the abundance of color radiance.
The Garden, like a ladle, spoons in itself and brings up the nectar of our sweet Soul’s Reach. The Situla is open to the sky, and the bluebird sings as it lands within the garden’s Space.
Equal to the occasion, the bluebird makes itself known, and the Quince is delighted with the gift of its Presence. Happiness abounds and the bound becomes free from pressure and weight.
Gravity is lifted and the ease returns, the lightness returns, the borders are gathered together and the Red Thread weaves its way throughout the Garden Plan.
We gather the sticks that nature gives us, the old wooden chairs no one wants any longer, baskets so weathered they look ancient, and are. We count these among our greatest friends and we become companions of the Garden.
We live free among the roots and words, the language and letters, the Ogham alphabet, with its reach past the past and into the future. We count among our friends the thin branches the trees have given to us.
We are matched with the dirt under our nails and the hands of the Mother. We hold hands with the planet, and thus the galaxy, the universe, and the solar system with all those many many stars.
Beyond number are our dearest friends, and the light they continually give us is pleasure beyond limit. Our Garden is so small, a postage stamp, a letter of love, that the largest black hole can fit inside it with ease.
Letters spill out of it all the time, numbers rumble around and pop out day and night, stories tell themselves and we listen because we have given up on limitation.
As we move through the ancient Tree Oracle Ogham, we become more rooted in the memory of trees and their Mycelial network with the flower and the herbs. We commit to ourselves and the full spectrum of color that is released into the field of black and white of winter, as spring rises through us.
The connectial roots of all life mix and fold and we begin to remember a life of Water, and the Mer in us awakens, as we become the immersed world of the memory of a life in water.
The Mer that we are takes on the black of dirt and we become more footed than finned, but we never forget the memories we have of water and how it nurtures the very cells of our skin.
We become hummed into place, through the feeling of the calming of our nervous system. We actualize the sound around us, and make more memorable our movement on land.
The ancient stones of northern worlds speak to us each day, as we rock our way through the cradle of softening. We remember what it is like to be more footed, and we engage our feet in the digital recording of land.
As we walk the Garden Plan and we hear the layers speak, we potentize our intention through Wood, budding wood, that holds the imprint of the entire blueprint of the Tree of Ash and Rowan, Spindle and Oak, Willow and Yew, Hawthorn and Maple, Blackthorn and Birch, Elder and Silver Fir, Mistletoe and Poplar, all sizing up their vision, all potentizing their Runic Awareness, all alchemizing their alphabet of language.
Where do the feathers go deep in the wood, where do the nests rest, deep in the fold, what is woven is threaded together in the pulse of red as it elongates its reach in the Garden Plan?
The Garden of the Red Thread, establishing itself in full volume for this initiatory year of coming to ease.The full fold of every leaf is aware of itself, and we become more skinned by the bark of the threaded awareness that rings itself in eons of life.
We are marked by the lines, the crosses of the Oghamic Path, connected to the alphabet of words and images held within the memory of trees, the genetic hold upon our environment for Safety Made Real.
Each seed and nest, each leaf and stick, each reed and bark, is engaged in a life of written. Why is a Raven like a writing desk? Quote Lewis Carroll, I finally know and placed it inside the Sanctuary of the Ogham.
Raven gathers words and images, Raven is black like ink, and quills are pens, so the writing desk, filled with sticks and barks, and moss comes to the Sanctuary Garden with sticks threaded through her drawers, and a sundial broken on top.
With sanctuary handles giving her light, she sits by the council seats of Ash and Rowan and Spindle, to take notes of the Ogham proceedings. She is secretarial of the hearing of words and taking them down into the mystery of the Realm.
Why has this come forward, we all want to know? The mystery writes itself inside of us, and we are transformed by its language, the feather and the ink. Black is the Raven’s knowledge of light, and then insight is far reaching.
Light lands on black, as does the Raven to the limb. The Tree flinches not, and the steady becomes solid, rooted, and deep in purpose. Nested are the answers to the question tree, and knowledge is the fruit to be eaten.
Solid is the meal that nourishes, and endless are the questions to be answered by the answer trees. We are blessed to have these trees in our garden, the Norway Maple speaks every language.
Dipping deeply into the folds of earth, that brings closer to a more normal vision that gives more pluralarity to our perspectives. We begin knowing and then we feel, we begin feeling and then we know. This cradling of knowledge back and forth, by our feeling self helps us quicken to the content of our lives.
There are many visions that apply quickly and then there are many visions that apply much more slowly, and we must learn to change our rate speed spontaneously as the time begins to shift.
There are many fibers that narrow us into a new decision, and many fibers that help us regenerate our continual spacial reference. We begin inside the mark and then we move the pin to a thin thread of intention, and the mark is narrowed and the thrust is made, and the vision penetrates the weave with its intentional precision.
We are naked to the time, but we become full dressed to the occasion of the time, when it is ready to become a full visionary awareness.
We call to the fragile of ourselves and take a thin needle sharpened and pierce through the cloth of our Neith. We arrange our eye around the bark of Tree, and we navigate ourselves through the rings of allowance.
I mark one, and one marks two, and two marks three, and the triangular quota is met in the need of geomatric timing. The purpose that now fulfills the Rede is held within the tantra of the oghamatic language of connection.
The Mycelial flow of territory that knows its own roots, and can embody the bud of itself as a blueprint of great wisdom. The full telling of tale now inaugurates our time.
The pinpoint vision correlates design after design and the awareness follows the point down through the rabbit hole. Rabbits are always part of the magic of Time.
The oracle of Trees is marked in lines marking lines, creating a threaded way down through the pointed perspective of intention. The power of intention being marked like a grid, marking the Sofiac Intelligencia as Will Profound.
The winding patterns of the labyrinth of discovery set the grid into a positional hold, so that the memory of Trees can begin once again to hold us safe.
Creating the Safety Made Real, the Trees mark their reach branch by branch, and we live beneath the bower of their Wisdom. The Crown of their reach reaches us in our Soul’s Reach and the communication expands expression.
Making sure to get caught up in the branches of the limbs, of the sticks, of the twigs, we weave ourselves tighter into the community of Trees and become one with them, papered in our awareness of the nestial circumference that we both embrace.
Seeded throughout our makeup, cell by cell, our digital signature writes across our future and we embrace the equation of composure, insight, and fruition. Timed by our need, we release into the wind our storied telling, and the wind knows our name.
We are netted into the weave of Neith, and the below is rooted throughout the fibers of our existence. Our roots are exposed, our limbs exposed, and our hearts, all exposed to the Mother Essence, as we reclaim the constitutional resilience of our Existial Mode.
We breathe deep into the courage of need, and Borage is there for us, healing and maintaining the power of each flower and its ability to create change. We are changed each day and Become more.
Closure: Marking the one two threes and crossing over the 5, 6, 7’s, the 8 becomes squared, and the navigation becomes 9, a fortified usage of 11, seen as the Ten of Ten, Equational Devotion.
