The Green Dragon

The Alchemical Rede Magazine The Green Dragon

By Clarity 1

Alchemical Rede Magazine 2026 September 20th Issue © 2026 Clarity Visit us at: www.situlacodex.com

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The Green Dragon Introduction: The color of the wind has changed, the color of the mind is di erent, and the landing spot is more secured, Grateful.

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2026 September 20th Issue The Green Dragon Wake, awaken, be awake, look what’s entered the Garden, what’s making its presence known. Knowing, knowing, knowing, the Green Dragon is knowing this is the place, the place of her nesting.

Here come the numbers, counting, counting up and counting down. The number keep coming. First one, then another, and another and another, children of the Dragon tucking in and in and in.

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Alice says, “Well this is quite the development, topsy turvy is just a turn of events. Well the Table is set, let’s see who is available to dine.”

“That’s just ne,” says the Dormouse, “We have plenty, and if we run out of plenty, we go to the next step, as long as we can. We do have plenty of Purpose.”

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The Red Thread winds its way through, and into, into, into so that what comes up comes up right. The radial trust come rst, the rst knot of the Red Thread. The Green Dragon keeps the count.

And here come the letters, making their way through the Garden and straight on into the house, not just a house, a home, a home that curls around you, swaddles you, keeps you safe, nurtured and counts you as part of all that Is.

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And that cloud, that cloud is the snorted breath of the Dragon, which you can only see if you are in the right frame of the mind, which you must take with you right foot, otherwise you left the path and can’t see the Way.

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And on cue, here comes the Cheshire Cat, of whom you cannot see either, until you have the vision of creativity.

“What appears appears because you are willing your willing forward, toward the Wood of the Life Tree.

Mycelial roots you deeply into the dirt of soil, and the Garden know what’s Real and what’s not. It’s in the Knot of two, and the Red Thread marks the mark, keeps you from getting lost.

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Easy getting lost in the brambles, you must keep the Heart open. Open the opening, keep keeping the open open and realize the brambles are just the maze, One step, the Big Step is all it takes to get out of the brambles maze. Amazing, the Knot of three.

Times the time, and lose the bind, lose yourself to kindness, the kindness you think you can’t regain, the Green Dragon counts the knots and stores them on her back.

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Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum smile that smile that says it all. Double your happiness. Double your lightheartedness. “We are keeping count, counting all that counts that keeps the levity up, so the gravity doesn’t get too dense.”

“That’s the forth knot,” says The Hatter, “this is good, this gets you past the past and into the future, so the future becomes more than what other’s would expect.”

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Yes is the way, only if it is through kindness, otherwise it is just a word with little meaning, devalued by circumstance unresolved by unwillingness to resolve.

The helping hand helps most when the hand is extended, with the hope of words spilling out, and out, and out from the Heart. Exit is no Exit if no Entrance is given. The fth Knot is marked and the motion is keeping the forward moving.

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The assessment of what green is in its true content as it seems to accelerate with life growing, bonding, bleeding into, growing up into the color of the Sun becoming Green.

Greening of Herb that emulates life moving through the tip of the Root, reaching down, reaching up, through the invigorance of life catching a breath, catching a ow, catching a color, catching a mending way of forgiving.

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Forgiven not to lose, but implore, impose, explore, import the nature, of the current of living.

We call into the call unforgiven, unweighed, untailored, foul with the mystery that has a smell that remembers the root of it all.

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The courage to smell the root, to nd your way back to the begging of yourself, like woman retracing her belly to the cord that extended her life, extended her breath, extended her as a single cell of imprintation, that penetrated the seed of a narrow way of consciousness, that births itself into an exploring world.

Forgiving nature of being forgiven, for giving, for knowing, for sharing, for exploring all that needs to be explored.

We are the reason.

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We are the reason, we are the sense in the reason, and we are reason and the scent of the reason, calling back through the nose, through the memory of the nose, and the nose of the memory, and the scent of how we were found.

We were found in the Ethers, sni ng out a way to call ourselves back to the Home we remember the scent of.

The scented way, an unusual bearing of the time of falling open.

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The leaves within our leaves, fall out because we have come and left many times before. Shout out your smell, shout out all that you love in scent, that is your innocence.

Catching up your breath, catching up the breath of you, the breath of me, the breath of all we love, and we love more and more each day we catch up our breath.

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To know the accomodatable is to have a Table of Compassion, as you accommodate yourself to the moment of need, and seek the compassion of the Fragrant one.

To police the market is to guarded and ready, because the thieves of this world never walk straight in, they curve and wander through your days like trustable, relatable, but the Comb of Self-Reliance never moves through their hair.

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The comb, symbol of female power, never moves through the hair of unoccupied women, You must fully occupy yourself with a ne-toothed comb of self-reliance, to nd its way into your independent nature within.

Be the woman you need, and be truthful to the woman you are. Be the woman you need, and ask no more for the independence of others.

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Be the woman you need, and stand powerfully inside all that that has risked itself, to send her away your incompetence. Be the woman you need, and allow recognition to ow from your mouth like honey.

Become the Honey Mead cake that has given to the mother bee, to create a world that is sweet enough to be happy in. Be the mother you need, and know the sister you are, is the mother you give to all that seeks the Mead.

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The Sixth Knot is made and the keeping is keeping marked, so the Ease becomes more than the less that has been presented. Less lessens, and becomes smaller and smaller, until there is nothing but the nothing, that nds no resolution, no resolve, no Compassion to others.

The Papered Awareness turns the page and the corrugated factors unfold their letters and numbers, so that the needs outweigh the out- ow, the drain draining the resources. Draining the drain, unplugging the motion, the movement, the mobility.

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Reaching over, reaching past, reaching into the favorite of creating. We create the Ease through the colors that come easily to our hands. The Magic of the Wand emits its white color, so that the shift that seems unshiftable occurs.

The Seventh Knot makes itself known, and is marked by the Green of Dragon. The Garden Dragon, the green of green the way forward. Leap and Spring, frog your way through.

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By-pass the roadblock, work-around, go around, go pass the past and reach into the March of Hair. “Hey,” says the March hare, “when you work with time, you really should be listening to the White Rabbit.” So many people get us mixed up.

“The mix-up marches past us all,” say the White Rabbit, looking at his pocket-watch, “ by time is of essence. We must keep all this safe, and it has been put in jeopardy.”

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“Come on then, lets move forward, we work round the clock, no matter our age, our era, the eon we live in,” said the Hatter, “we simply might manage if we post a note, and make a date to stitch through everything.”

The Needle pulls the Red Thread and we mend the torn, so we keep out the rain raining its rain down upon us. The Garden drinks its drink and deeply releases a sigh, as Fall falls its colors and the leaves let go.

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The frequently met hollow, and in the bump of the road is where we travel the deepest, when we are sad, afraid, or alone.

In this place we honor the unseen of ourselves, the unknown, the uncollected, the unserviced, the unaccepted, the unhonored, and we feel in this place the very guts of our longing, and here our longing speaks to us in the growling of the night, the uncomfortable of the rolling over, the restless of the woken, the pouring out of the impediments that roll out of our heads.

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We are knocking knocking knocking, knocking knocking at the door of unbelief, and we become unconscious of more of what we do have, even though we skipped a few beats.

We nursed a few wounds, and we heard what we weren’t willing to hear, before because we were told it was untrue.

We are great, we are wide, we are wide open of the courage. We are wide open for the crying, we are wide open for the joy, we are wide open for the upward channel of force, that keeps us from shutting down.

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Stand up, don’t shut down, stand up, don’t shut down, stand up, stand up, stand up, stand up. Purple is the color of this readiness. It gets a heart, a purple heart, where courage is deserved, rewarded pinned upon, pinned upon, pinned upon.

Depend, depend, and you will be rewarded with a purple heart of deliverance. Deliver it up, don’t shut down, deliver it up, don’t shut down.

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All tiny conveyers, of otherworldly gifts, come rolling in on the railroad of recognition. Railroad of recognition, railroad of recognition, pulling on our forward to open up, so we can pour out all our great treasures, all our great treasures, all and all, and all and all, and all and more.

Knock knock knock, tap tap tap, fold fold fold, open open open, turn turn turn, turn it down, turn it down, turn it down, so the new Bed of Dreams can cover you up.

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Turn it down, so the covers can come up to your eyeballs, and you can peep out and see the gifts stacking up at your door. The Eight Knot is made and marked, the Ninth Knot is made and marked, and the Ten Knot is coming, coming, coming.

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“Mark these words,” says Alice, “don’t be all knotted down, be the Knot that Ten is all about.”

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Closure: Knock knock knock at every door you can, and hope there is Grace peeping out the windows and the one who opens the Door is truly your beloved.

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Publishers: Su.Sane & Robert Hake, Clarity

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