Piercing Through The Lineages Of The Gardene by Clarity Artists

The Alchemical Rede Magazine Piercing Through The Lineages Of The Garden

By Clarity

Piercing

Through The Lineages Of The Garden

Introduction:

Planted are the seeds of Hope, in rows of Sound.

2026 May 3rd Issue

Piercing Through The Lineages Of The Garden

The Garden Plan is already lined up beyond what you think, what you can imagine, it is of its own nature and it has its own plans to unfold.

The Mycelial Network has already laid out how and why, and where and when all takes place, and we are the stewards of the Listening Tongue. The Mother speaks through and into the Garden.

Knowing the how and why is the great piece of the stitching of the Garden, as she begins her slow and steady growth up out of winter’s embrace. We are so grateful for her deep knowledge, and allow her her time to stretch and unfold.

The Crow is early, along with the catbird and chickadee, each adding their pitch of sound into the making of the Nu. The Garden reaching into the renewal, opens up bit by bit, and we time ourselves with her humming.

We begin to sew the seeds when it is time, and as May leaves the nest for June, the Garden opens to change, and we accept the patterns with its seeds of bloom.

Counting the measure before its time, unrhythms the energetic pattern of nature, and the natural turns its path under. The Mother has the stitch timed to perfection and the Ease is the signal of relief.

Bird, feather, and nest are all calling at this time and the Ease is waiting in the wings. Listen for the small still sound of change as it becomes so tiny, that even a Bee can feel its swaddle.

There is no hurry, there is no deadline to get it done, the Garden has its own rhythm, its own language, its own way of Being. As the sun arcs its path, changing minutely each day, we begin to gather to us the necessary language to hear timing.

The Garden Lineage is ancient, its power is beyond words, beyond number, and beyond reach. Begin your descent into the shape and ﬁber, the knot and vine, the edge and curve of its Sound.

Listen to more than outline and shape, more than frame and ﬁgure, beneath all of it is a Seed that grows the Garden you have never seen before. Each year the stamp is quiet, gentle, ﬂowing.

Our timing is exact, our vision from the Mother, and the ripening has yet to begin. The early is early, the precise is precise, and the open is opening ancient longing of Space.

Place yourself inside the Space of unplanned and you will be inside the Garden Plan, place yourself inside the Space of under, and you will be above the diﬃcult, place yourself inside the heat of cold, and you will be beside the next.

What wanders is the tendril still in the seed, what ﬁnds is the seed still in the hand, what thirsts is still the word upon the Tongue, and the Mother has the say. As the excitement builds we are aligned with the season and we are sewn to the root.

Breaking through the soil of winter’s rest, the ﬁbers begin their journey, weaving us forward, the light building its strength of angle, so that the reach it makes conveys the path of bloom.

The radial strength is proportionate to the ellipse and the angle is opened at the exact depth of penetration. Magic is no longer fore-stalled and the energy can now move forward with Ease.

Witness the Seed and the Garden grows, allow the growth to occur with Ease, and your Ease will follow. The path of the Garden is more than its dirt, more than the soil beneath you. It is under your feet so that you can feel above it.

Position is more than equation, it is longing and the deep dark that the roots grow in, grow from, and come out of. The Witnessing of the Magic allows more than you can ﬁgure, more than you can know, more than you can understand. Yet the under stands you, as you place your foot with trust.

Keeping the sound true, the Witnessing aﬀords the Space time, and Time space, so that the Seed has a chance to form its Magical Wand into a vine, a wooded Space, a grove that yields itself into Fey.

From Fey the Garden grows, comes into Being, becomes itself Whole and Complete, so that you are nourished in Body, Mind, and Spirit. You are fed, not only by its bounty, but by all the time spent inside the Garden, during the time of the Seed, Sprout, and Leaf.

We are gathering together all the Magic we can contain, and allowing it to spill out, into the hand willing to receive its gift of Light. The sun arcs its way across us, yet we do not feel crossed out, but rather marked by its passage.

We thread the Eye of the Needle with our Seedial Presence, and through our Existial Mode we transfer the energy throughout the Mycelial Network, so that the Ease is Witnessed, the tension is relieved, and the White that colors our words comes into fruition.

We cellularize the process so that the Papered Awareness is registered within the pages of compassionate consciousness, and Love can be Threaded through the sewn ﬁbers of Red.

Marking the making with enthusiasm is the key, your own compassionate enthusiasm holds the greatest leverage against contractive limitations. Let the seed of your own great enthusiasm open the Spring Door wide for you.

Each cell marks the spot, each cell a dot of consciousness that informs beyond limitation, beyond reason, and reaches into the Magic that gives Life its Light.

Allow the Wand of Fey its reach into the Garden Realm, witness the elongation of the enthusiastic doer with the idealistic receiver, and bring Magic forward, in this the cells regenerate, the cells rejuvenate, and you move with the Ease that is natural.

Breathe into your Center the completeness you are being, grant yourself the ﬂow, and trust the unfolding, whether understood or not, so that you thread yourself inside the lineage of your ancient knowledge.

Unclaimed for ages, not understood for eons, the demand drops away and you ﬁnd yourself allowing what seemed undoable before. The sewn is made, the stitch is sewn, and knot is completed and you are in possession of Fey Realm Energy.

Coming folded more in pattern than ever before, we begin to notice the clock of Time, and how it repeats itself at Zero Point.

There is a connection to the daily of Life and the Zero Point. We thread out, we thread in, we needle the thread and move the Red through the Pulse of our Fingers.

We become the comet of a passing pattern to thrive longer, awaken more, and conceal nothing. We move our lineage in and out, through a silent moment in time that we reclaim over and over again.

We reclaim all that is left, all that is here, and all that we dream to Be. We reclaim it, because in these moments, past present and future are only a breath.

A breath not concealed, but open to inspiration, inhalation, and we take in the threads of the connecting ﬁbers of Listening.

We tall ourselves and elongate the reach so the present moment can bind itself in a pattern of reclamation. We reclaim what we know, we reclaim what we have known, we reclaim what we will know.

In this there is a merchant of veriﬁability that allows us to become omnidirectional. We mix the forward with the backward, and in this ﬁnd the present moment.

We stop, we inhale, and give breath to the meaning that exhales. We are marked by what marks time in the presence of consciousness.

We open our hearts, breathe in our felt. Making the motionary factors of living more soluble, quenchable, and resolutionary.

The arid community of unfelt becomes watered by our nurturance. Spoken more fully inside the grid, we name ourselves, we name ourselves in daily gestures of exploratory visions.

Chaired is the acquisition promised, vintage is the position of ﬁber, long and rapid is the reach, and the buttonhole is entered by the button, threaded through its smallness.

We ﬁnd time now to look around the circle, before we enter the Portal, and seek out the rigid speculation that knots the thread.

What holds the diﬀerence is the D in the alphabet, the 4th enumeration, the consonant that determines the direction.

The distance sought, the determination bowed, the descent elongated. The elongation of thought as determined by will at the point of the cord knotted.

Pleasing the company of Self we endure the losses, and breathe in the enhancement. Corrugated are many papers of wisdom, corrugated are many reaches of distance, corrugated are many threads of memory, corrugated is the wisdom of succession.

Responsive to the callings of the very time is our pray to Be. Washed away no longer by fear, we begin to enter the new pattern and its endulations.

Almost curing the past, we peel away the scabs, so that we can heal once again, even deeper than before.

Memory coats through the rawness, and the circle of voice heals, the owl of vision responds, the partaken gives moisture to the Need.

Parentage relates more to passage than child, responsive abode opens to the needs of comfort and protection. Aligned are the visions so the eye can heal.

We cough up the road ahead, and learn to follow better, we contain no limitation, so that we breathe in the calm of serenity, the Ease matches our pace, our pace matches our Pulse, and we ﬂow forward.

Outside the measure, we find the gentleness of Witnessing, we find the gift of Magic, and we fulfill the need, so that understood stands for Grace.

We pierce through the judging factors of limit, and set free our cellular resiliency, the eye is pierced by the Witnessing, and the lineage is secured and Sovereign.

Sewn into depth is the Mystery, and the Magic ﬁnds you in your own desire, to want and need what the Garden gives, you are in alignment, even when you feel you do not understand.