The Alchemical Rede Magazine
By Clarity
She Is Fish File Codial And Negotiates Words
Introduction:
Feeling the soft, I stop trying to muscle through.
2025 July 20th Issue
She Is Fish File Codial And Negotiates Words
Patterns of Consciousness unfold their wings and the Bird of Pray opens the Portal of Light, so that the dark can find its way out.
The Bringer of Light instills hope and resilience into the field of exhaustion, so that the endeavor finds it way Home and the Place of Birth takes place.
Sound hones its skills and enumerates the longing of Word to Song to collaboration. The Angelic Intelligensia combines a system of language that interfaces, and lifts the density from its gravity.
We are marked for this Homecoming, the entrance through that allows us to reach beyond the impediments placed, by that which decides distraction is its way backward, slowing forward momentum.
Words, letters, and numbers, the language of the Mother Tongue, the Consciousness that brings Light to Life, and breath to living.
Marking the Code in me, I mark the Code in you, we let it unravel together, and all the hidden marks that create who we are become revealed.
The scramble that we notice each day in life, is to make us forget what is real and what is not. All that is coming forward in this world is a distraction of consciousness in the shifts it needs to make.
We move through each day trying to keep track of all the numbers, letters, capitals, periods, and singular motions of intelligence, that we have not yet cracked the code of divine existence that now knocks at our door.
Knock, knock, knock, click, click, click, as the Situla that holds our waters that we have become, we must take time to mend, to heal, so that we won’t leak and lose our skill of Alchemy.
Each day we must build up to ourselves, and take more inches above ground, than we have before. The very nature of the beginning has called to us, and we now have to speak in new and more Fish Tale ways.
Taking many threads, and looping them into the First Cause, we begin to remember our original pattern of existence, and how it marks our way, so that we don’t forget our head above, or below.
Always bring your head with you, because that’s where all the talking is, and we must remember the contagious energy of Love spoken.
When the mark makes us more revealed to ourselves, we take in more easily now the grated substance of what sheds itself to our understanding, so we can narrow the bridge that we walk over, so each hand holds a side.
The grated memory, shredded thought, essentially is the speed we need in our nourishment. Opening up the wider pocket, so we can fit into a bigger box, that has more floors and windows, than we ever imagined.
The very nature of living is to be able to bend over, squat down, and listen to the small, have ears to hear, a voice to speak, a mind to realize, and an emotion to decide.
We carry the wisdom that we hold between our fingers. We make running each day a fever, a grunted wood, a folded or leaking, and in this we come to realize, that this is not the beauty of Life.
We catalog many things, and we begin to share part, but the whole is still waiting for a recalculated fold. More memories than we’d like to remember crawl around each day, and ask us why, and often we don’t have the answers just the memories.
This is the time of Excaliber, and we must sharpen the blade to cut away the farce of what we have thought living was for.
We need to become the number that opens the door that unlocks the Vox that cracks the Code, and begins to know what is truly inside of what is counted.
Then we can fold into a new speed, a new warranty, and fully become in remission. This brings us the relief that we have been seeking, that what was once thought enough, time was more than needed, has now become the very reason to move forward.
Out of the past comes the present, and in doing so the embodiment follows the passage from one event of gravity to the next.
Treating each event as just another event, places you outside the Center, and moves you into a format of repeating. The trick is to ignore the repetition and create the new inside the containment.
Adding weight to wait, and bringing all things to a close, is the action that creates the pattern to adjust its parameters. Include yourself the next time you change, and watch the ease come back to your feet.
One step forward, right foot first, the future seeps in under the Door of Present. Unwrapped is the gift of this time, and as you open your Consciousness to a greater view, and a listening ear, you find the notes filling you to overflowing.
Marked is the Time that adjusts everything in one fell swoop, and the Bird in the hand is your own wings preened and ready to fly. Flight is the liftoff desired, and the letting go is the reason for soaring.
Your Voice is out of your own Vox Box and the sounds carry from Valley to Valley to Valley, posting each note against each tree, their limbs trembling with the vibration of your coming out.
Announced is the call, forward is the mission, correct is the stance, and unsaid is the rival to silence. Toned are the muscles needed to speak, and the Table has long been set.
Alice is dressed to the nines, the Cheshire Cat has a Top hat on, the Dormouse has lace cuffs, and the Rabbit has a new Gold pocket watch. The Hatter has poured out Tea into each cup, and the silverware has never looked so polished.
“What’s the occasion?”, asked Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum. There was no exact answer, because all the questions had been used up. “Well, that a fine pickle,” they said in unison, “if we had known ours was the last question, we would have asked a better one.”
“Isn’t that the just the way,” said the Caterpillar, “right as you get to the end of something, another something shows up and off you go, room for more questions come down the pike”.
"The Table has become an icon rather than a functioning conveyor of conversation, with people actually interacting. We have the waitstaff, but the waiting is definitely getting old, and the Need is growing stronger”, Alice said, “we need to get out there.”
“Grab your lists”, said the Dormouse, always one for details, “we need to make some calls”.
As Wonderland began to turn off the lights, and closing up shop, the animals in attendance started gathering their things, and begin the long walk out.
Who would have thought that the Table would shut down, with so many people needing, but when the demand can’t be met by the offer, the offer fades and the food spoils. Without a meeting, there can’t be a connection.
Breaking the image with a, “What are you thinking!”, Alice turns to everyone and says,”snap out of it, we have work to do.”
The Lights pop back on, the Table resets itself, and a reset is what’s called for. “Come on everyone, time to roll up our sleeves and put the sign out.”
Opening the spark to the Light you must pitch it into the dark, and what is then revealed is the strength, and the power of the Light and Power inside the Light.
Between the meadow and the dirt, there is the worm that rises through the organic matter, and allows it to seed out and grow, as the meadow.
We are now coming into the meadow of ourselves, the part that is growing because of the Light we become, share, and are, each day.
The meadow has a Vox, and the Vox has a voice, and the Voice is the Mother of the Seed. The promise to yield is a promise to give forward what the dark knows, to give forward what the Light reveals, to crawl under the silken road of regeneration.
We are now more crystaled, and the salts within us wash through, to give meaning to the mineral constancy of our orgasmic leanings. We are then more promoted than expired, we are more generated than dead scrolled.
Our memory pushes forward, into the future soil of what is now beginning to seed out. The claim has been made, the ounce has been weighted, the Vox has been stimulated, and the Kundalini is rising in our world.
We must now face the push of this, and when all washes through like panning for gold, we become more realized of what elements are starting to take up space in our world, and why have they come?
The elements of the sea germinated, even before its been planted. The elements of the smell, heard, before it even had been sensed.
The cold grounding of relationships, before they had even been met. We are the song, we are the singer, we are the echo in relationship to Time.
We remember the ages of time, that have already gone into a posture pose. We needle ourselves, like a thread of precaution, before then we sewed through the fibered Cloth of Realization.
It has many gestures, before it reaches a Fibered Listening, and the Fiber of Listening unravels our meaning. We mean to be here, but instead we are there, we mean to be there, but instead we are here.
We now call out in this time, but have not been called out before. We listen to the Seed that whistles us Home, we listen to the Home that whistles forward into the future, that had not even a part to imagine.
Focus your needle, focus your thread, spit on the end of the thread, and mark yourself through the needle, and thread out everything unwanted.
Then weave your thread through, until it reaches deeply your Sacred Cloth of Witness, then pour out, pour out, pour out, before the hand leaves, and it all spills to the floor, not caught up and received by the receiver.
Catch up yourself quick, and be ready to pour out, and reach the hand that opened, and catching, and now you can remember what the catching is all about, the receiving needs to be parched of its thirst, and your holy waters are your own sacredness, moving through your own body.
Pour out, mark the space you stand on, pour out ,mark the travel you have been, pour out mark your territory, and let the Raven be your Caw, Caw, Caw.
