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The Alchemical Rede Magazine Raising The Moon

By Clarity

2026 August 2nd Issue

Raising The Moon

Above us, always something above us, with a reason to be there, a reason bigger than we are, a guiding marker, a maker of cycles, we are connected and ready to rotate as needed.

The full moon is coming, the new moon is coming, the quarter moon is coming, the half moon is coming, the 3/4 quarter moon is coming, we are rotating with the cycles and cycling through.

We were raised with wolves before we were raised by humans, we were raised by bears before we were raised by humans, we were raised by lions before we were raised by humans.

Through those risings we became human, we became our Totems, because the Totems saw the path of greatest ease to Home, not the easiest, the greatest Ease.

We connect ourselves to the Moon because we face the evening’s dark with its companionship, and through that relationship we are not alone to our own wanderings.

Alice says, “Lets see, we have The Cheshire Cat, we have the White Rabbit, we have Dormouse, we have The Caterpillar, we have the March hare, and we have Mock Turtle, to name a few. It would seem we actually have a zoo here.”

What counts can count backwards as well, and when that happens, best be on your toes, because a number left out is a number no longer remembered or counted on.

Reaching as high as the Moon is an eﬀort worth noting, because it causes you be become aware of what matters and what does not. Counting the cycles of the Moon allows you to thread yourself away or together.

Take out your beads, because you will need them, they carry your history, they carry your notes, they carry your remembrances that amount to raising the Moon as something worth caring about.

As you move forward you take with you all that you are, have been, and will be, each step towards a more compassionate Exquisite Mode, one that sees potential and possibility ﬁlled with Love.

The Moon sees, and the Moon remembers, and the Moon marks the way through the night, as the Red Thread knots the occurrences of Compassion.

Noted are the times that remember, noted are the times that the sound is Round and the sound is ﬂat, each time a new space is created and the frequency goes up or down.

Related are the steps towards and the steps away from, each a reminder to count out your markers for what they consist of. Hot or cold, sweet or sour, bitter or sweet, all a calling to a positive future that nurtures and fulﬁlls.

Timing is the Red Thread and the knots are the marks of accounting, so that the character of Moon opens the way and the ease enters to those whose heart equally opens with Grace.

Grace is always given when Grace is given, they match the Ease of the kind and gentle way of being. Noting the greatness of C; Clarity, Compassion, Companionship, and Cooperation, you ﬂow and feel the Fire of support.

Once creates, twice moves, and three simply Is. As the Moon is raised as a Child of Grace, then each passing phase its resonated as the Bell it is, the Ball of Space shaped into a set piece that accounts for tidal.

Wave upon wave of breath moves into and out of. Catch and keep a breath, you run out of Air, catch and keep a breath, you run out of Fire, catch and keep a breath, and you run out of Earth, catch and keep a breath, and you run out of Water.

What do you want to run out of, what signs are you moving towards and what signs are you moving away from. Moving away from your emotions (Water), moving away from your inspiration (Air) , moving away from your energy (Fire), moving away from your groundedness (Earth)?

The Moon sees it all in its Round Sound of Note. Completion, a cycle that cycles around again and again, each breath, a reminder to completion. A resonance of frequency.

The higher the note, the more called for, the more called for the Ease sets its mark and continues to escort the steps forward into creativity. Distraction, marks its way, and creativity moves more deeply into place.

“Now that we’re all here”, says Alice, “ don’t forget to pick up your spoon and feed your fellow travelers. They’re looking a bit worse for the wear.”

Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum say, “You can say that again, some of them look particularly parched, and boney.”

The Cheshire Cat shows up and says, “This Moon has really set things upright and sideways, at the same time, which makes for an interesting phase.”

The Dormouse, as usual, makes the Tea extra robust and nutritious, adding extra milk and a side of biscuits, so that the jam has something to land upon.

“Hunger is so rampant these days, and we’re not talking about food here,” says Alice, “ its much more a tasting of what’s what, and who’s who.”

Papered Awareness folds into a corrugated wholeness, and the creasing obliges the time, as the White Rabbit’s pocket watch ticks its tock, tock, tock.

So quick it all was, and now for the settling down, the settling in, the Ease making itself at Home, the tea kettle whistling and the kitchen warming itself by its own Fire.

Radial comfort comes round, and the equations add up their numbers and count diﬀerently than ever before, so that the balance can right itself into a path that covers all the ground needed.

Grounded into a new way, the Moon orbits the same, but differently perceived and differently being, so as the cycles occur, they occur differently, and tell something else.

Timing will tell the Grace, as the registries spell out the Gift, beyond the short-comings, and the space gifts the time its orbital bliss.

Opening up the castle, raising our feet to the top of the ﬂoors, big steps, giant steps, hauling ourselves up to a new level, and letting go of what’s behind.

Folding all the patterns, counting on the satins and the wrinkles, and unwrinkling the old parts. We’re needing to step up more straight, more ready to the young needed. The young in us that thought it had to grow old, but can’t but won’t.

Only the Mother knows why. She learned us up good, she made our ﬁngers walk away, the way of listening, the way of drawing, the way of inking, and hearing the words, more blue than water.

We are the survivors, we are the readers we are the crawlers we are the listeners, we are the ﬁnders, we are the spotters, we nick, nick, nick, at our own door. And we are the one who answers. No surprise.

Yes, we found ourselves in the ancient archives. We began to know we knew, and most of all why. The nose knows, the body knows, the face knows, the rumbling under speaks, and it climbs up our sides and runs through our fears, and makes us wander and roll down under.

Down under where the sadness is, down under where the missing listens. We feel the longing, we feel the reaching, we feel the gut-wrenching that we do feel the nose knowing, and we know the time is right.

It’s right for change, its right for a new feeling, a new kind of laughter, a new kind of rolling down the hill like Jack and Jill.

We whisper under the bushes like we used to, blackberry bushes all covered with tiny thrones. We pick them, each blackberry one by one and pocket into our movement. Blackberry moves everything. She’s black and blue and red in between.

And she moves us from here to there, whether we know the way or not. This is blackberry picking season, and we have picked buckets full in our days in Warren.

The rabbits know us, and they watch us leap and try to learn a new volume, a new opening a new exciting level, where blackberries are the daily fare moving us through the rambles, the scrambles, like we are a baby in a perambulator.

Up above the rocks, up above the windy cascades shaded from he storm, the sun, the heat, and covered with kisses from the Mother.