It's Friday, and the time of Temperance is now. This is the time of the distillation of the medicine. What does that mean? It means that the best opportunity to become clear of that which besets you is while it is besetting you - but on your terms. The alchemist sets up a laboratory - could be physical, or could be spiritual, made of holy language- and then the alchemist deliberately triggers the appearance of the noxious sprite, as it were.
In this laboratory, however the tables are turned upon those same sprites. It is here, within the crucible of our practice, that we discover how to distill benefit from harm, to turn toxin into elixir. We sit with the pain, we gather it, wasting none and we sing to it. What do we sing?
The names of God will raise the vibration of any errant noise - they are recipes for transit to and from the ineffable. No more, no less. Distortion is an illusion of deficient perspective.
Dissolve, coagulate, rinse, repeat.
Visitae.
Interiora.
Terrae.
Rectificando.
Invenies.
Occultum.
Lapidem.
V.I.T.R.I.O.L.
Chant this over the stuff of your blackness. Turn it white. Turn it red. Make it clear. Give it away - t'was never.
Your mission is to make your own medicine out of your pain by singing to it. Don't numb it, but sing to it in the laboratory of practice.
Valete.
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