I Grieve

The Alchemical Rede Magazine I Grieve

By Clarity 1

Alchemical Rede Magazine 2026 July 12th Issue © 2026 Clarity Visit us at: www.situlacodex.com

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I Grieve Introduction: I grieve, you grieve, we grieve.

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2026 July 12th Issue I Grieve Change through celebration is joy, change through fracture is arduous, lled with stress, and unwelcome in the way of the Red Thread. Snipped, cut too early, and the weave is simply holely, an incomplete remnant of.

What is beneath often rises up, like a seed bearing forth a blossom in the future, and we celebrate the anticipation of what will become the fruition of the Garden, as it awakens us always to a course.

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When the cloth of coarse is thrown over, then as quickly as possible we stop in our tracks and remove the incomplete structure it tries to build, and make from it the compost it is, into a fodder that feeds the Garden.

The world grieves the loss of any one thing, any one person lost in the nature of Un, the reverse of Nu. To unbuild, to undo, to uncreate is to unstep, which is far di erent than misstep.

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The world is in a state of grieving, and has been for millennia, and the Un it thrives on is its make up. The Un it, or unit is a mark that carries with it the singular mark of unmarking.

Creating is the positive motion of freedom and compassion, and that only comes from the ease and comfort of Love and Well-Being. Spoken from nearly said the apocalyptic language tries to muse us into the future.

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Once said, tries to motion us into unset. The volume of courage needed to ride on the back of the Mare of 2026 takes a volume of courage, illumination, gratefulness, recognition, solitude, while adjusting at the same time the placidity of our Heart of Gold.

We connect in the thread of the ber, we pulse ourselves to the beat inside the courage of Love. To channel compassion into the memory is what the Heart of Gold pulses through us.

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We take into the words of memory a new precision that embodies strength of being there, being there for the wisdom, being there for the ocean of emotion, being there for the pistol-packed embodiment of intercession.

We are the marked, we are the made, and even in this we are the Heart of Gold. The nature’s pinpoint of forgiven.

How do you locate the Heart when it falls into the submission of fear?

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How do you embody the crown in a consciousness of eternal understanding that makes the Will apart?

Holding our emotions into a Papered Awareness we fan ourselves with folded awareness, and ask for the courage to evolve into deeper involvement.

To know the Heart of each other is to consciously own the beat, the rhythm, the intention, the resolvement that marks the future.

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To pray to the Intention of I is to become the eye of the needle with the current thread, the Red Thread. There is a thrown down and a picked up, and the decision is in this time, and this way of hearing.

You hear it once, you unheard it twice, you hear it again and throw it down. You pick it up and hear it once again, and you throw it down and you pick it up, and you hear it again, until what you hear no longer throws you down, and you pick it up and you understand the I in Intent.

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Speak no longer to the heard that never said, and listen more to the who of the locational right to Be. To be given, to allow, to prop up the fold down, to awake through to the village of future I am, I was, and I will Be.

Mark your nose with the nger to one side, and allow the head to tilt, so it can hear in a better curve, a more rounded position, and an intentional fold.

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Wait for the knock at the door, someone old is someone new, and this is the way to begin wasting not a word to the internal decision of distraction.

Decision, distraction, division descending, through forgetting who we are and intend to be in the future, where what we have done is truly shown the way to Divine importation.

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We are the recognizers, we are the Code of de nition. Be the Prince, Be the princess of a kingdom that unites the Heart of Gold, with every compartment of its ticking.

Be precious to oneself and be Other’s Other, and the other’s other, and make no Other small to the Other.

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Granted is the space of the alphabet, its small and large depends of the other trying to make it a navigational order to combine and sort.

Confusing, yes it is to me, because I am still like a child sitting in my bed trying to play out my day ahead. Marking and squeaking my feet to t in the shoes that are thought required of me.

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I cannot be mother, father, brother, sister, or in-between, there are not enough shoes to ll these roles, so I just sit with my colorful socks wrapped around my toes, and maybe this will nd a freedom for me.

I cannot corrugate what is uncorrugateable, or conjugate what will not conjugate. We cannot take down a story we cannot unthread.

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In this, my meaning is quick to wrestle with every word I speak. We cannot wrestle with the words that wrestle us down, rustle us up, or wrestle with the meaning we are, even if we barely know.

This is not a blue plate special, this is, instead, a Divine plate of immense hesitation, enormous appetite, assimilating Love in all the colors of the rainbow.

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The darker ones, not always easy, but more potent, like dirt that everything can grow from. A small pill bug breaking up the clogs of dirt so the seeds can grow.

The Garden has its own grieving process, only seen at night when the dew falls and it waters itself with solace and consolation, and that what withers never grows back.

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Intense are the cycles of the moon, all 13 marking the blood-sworn oath to be present and willing, so what emerges emerges from completion and wholeness.

Timing with the Moon fosters care and hope, regeneration and rejuvenation, and allows the mending to Thread the torn.

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Timing is time, and there is a time to grieve, but there is also a time to move forward, beyond the un and into the Nu. We are at that place, the pages are available and the open space is provided, providing it is truly open.

Time will tell its telling and the Papered Awareness will make its turn, as the numerical and alphabetical sequence is activated. We are the key, and we have the maps that chart the course that opens the door to every room.

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Finding the Mystery is easy, knowing the way takes knowledge of many lifetimes, marked with the salt of our endeavors. Patience, compassion, and love mark the way forward.

Only step where the ground beneath you supports you fully, mark you way, and count your lucky stars that hold you up, so that what clears is completely cleared, and in good course.

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The circumferic measure and its orbit, transcends the limitational pull that occurs when obstacle meets path, and path takes a turn. Turning up to the compassionate embrace of the Goddess, allows the ease to unfold beyond.

Matching step to seat, the full sound of harmony resides within the desire for release from the limitational pulls that are encountered.

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We are the sight mesmerized by a future outside the grid.

Knock knock knock, who will answer the door, Goldilocks or the Wolf, because the grandma has been taken alive to the planet more gracious, more composed, more literal, to the needs of the day.

Moving Garden space inside the ow of renovation, restoration, rejuvenation, and regeneration, to regenerate the nervous system to once again unblock its ow, so all connected can feel the support of the past, present, and future.

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Waking up to the call, waking up to the caw, caw, caw of the Raven, the Cardinal, the Bluejay, the Blackbird, the Blue Bird of Happiness, the Chickadee, the Catbird, the Mocking bird, the Wren, the Hawk, the Seagull, the Pigeon, and the Eagle, all relate to our Home as refuge.

This Home has held us each close through happiness, love, consolance, overwhelm, upset, fear, conjugating all the factors we need and breaking them down to form a healing shield within us, around us, above us, below us, and side to side.

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A House of Clarity that owns the reason why we gather, why we ask, why we answer, why we cry, why we wonder, why we stand in an awareness of the Love that we have for each other, whether it be Winter, Spring, Summer, or Fall.

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We have all been there for each other, and we’ve needed that in all the same ways. Sometimes we feel written upon, sometimes we feel gathered up, sometimes we feel cut apart, sometimes we feel not truly present, sometimes we feel not completely forgiven.

Sometimes we feel full of dark, sometimes we feel full of light, sometimes we forget, sometimes we remember, sometimes we share, sometimes we don’t, sometimes we tell it all, sometimes we hide it all, but in this we do have the freedom here to Be, whether we’re nice or not.

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Whether we are grumpy or loving, because this is what women want the freedom to be. Not considered like in the male world, valuable or not, smart or not, old or young, expansive or not, closed up or not, smart or not, valuable or not, creative or not, the right color or not, the right movement or not.

We have given this in this House of Clarity, and sometimes we are very happy, sometimes we are very mad, sometimes we are very sad, sometimes we are very wise, sometimes we are very stupid, sometimes we are very right, sometimes we are very wrong.

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Yes, that is what happens in Clarity House for 36 years, we make and remake the colors of who we want to Be, and that is outside the allowances of the world.

We are outside the right colors, we are outside the right feelings, we are outside the right reasons, we may be even outside the teachings of our mothers so we have had to learn to mother ourselves, instead of expecting it from others.

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We are now the mothers of the mothers of the mothers, and challenge the world with our outrageous expectations to learn how to mother ourselves.

I am not the mother of you, you are not the mother of me, am not the mother of her, and I’m not the mother of we.

I have become the mother of Me, and I stand alone, as you learn to be the mother of you.

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How can we mother ourselves through this time, and not blame others? How can we mother ourselves through this time and become more of the mother than we have ever dreamed.

Aging faces are captured by women who have had to learn to grow old mothering themselves.

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As each wrinkle changes their world, they are more written upon by the letters of themselves, and I hope as I grow old, I join their ranks and wrinkle myself with all the words of my wisdom.

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Closure: I fold, you fold, we fold.

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Publishers: Su.Sane & Robert Hake, Clarity

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