Part of my destiny (which is much deeper than “life purpose, by the way) is working in and sharing the depth of wisdom of the alchemical process. I see a lot of people using the word “alchemy” but not embodying the energetics of it themselves or in their work.
There are initiations into sacred alchemy. Those who are in alignment with it and creating New Earth will recognize what I am explaining. Those who are not will either feel triggered or jolted by this thought. For the latter, it means going much deeper within your work.
We are seeing an overuse of the word “alchemy.” Since we’ve arrived in a dimension where we are telepathically connected there’s no faking it anymore. Words can’t be used like bandaids to cover up what you don’t know. It’s humbling, but it also requires us to understand that Light shines our own Truth.
Seek to understand. Ask to be shown. Readily admit what you do not know. This is when you begin to step into your divine power and your own personal destiny.
Today I met a sweet, kind arborist. I was back at the Blue Spruce that I wrote about earlier last week. I needed to collect some of its branches for an exciting collaboration that I will announce within a day or two that Blue Spruce initiated.
"Gather my needles, my resin, my branches, my sawdust..."
I heard a truck engine. I really didn’t want to be bothered. A gentleman drove by and then pulled over to the side of the road, then slowly started backing up.
I looked his way and he jumped out of his truck. “Need a hand?” he said.
All I had was a pair of small shears and I was trying to gather a trunk full of spruce boughs. I must have looked like I needed help.
As an intuitive, I've always been able to connect to trees. Anyone can do this. It begins with what is known as esthesis, a connection between you and any living organism.
“Oh thank you, that would be great,” I replied. A year ago I probably would have shrugged him off and said no. It was a bit foreign to me to allow someone to help me when I probably could have managed it, and I noticed that about myself as he smiled kindly. It can feel vulnerable to allow someone to help. So I let myself feel vulnerable.
He walked up and I noticed he had a curved pruning saw and was ready to jump in the snowbank to retrieve these branches that are worth gold to me.
“How many do you need?” he asked. I paused because I really wanted to say the entire tree. “A couple of pounds would be plenty for now,” I answered. He carefully selected the best branches. I mean he treated this tree friend of mine like it were his friend too.
“Were you the one to cut it down?” I inquired.
“Who me? Nah,” he said, wielding the saw like a piano player mastering black and white keys. “I’m an arborist and do work around here. You know,” he said thoughtfully, “this is a Blue Spruce.”
“I know,” I said, astounded that not only did someone appear out of nowhere, but he seemed as equally excited to talk about trees.
“You can’t just go by the needles because you can mistake these for Engelmann Spruce. You really need to take a look at the cones.”
Are you open to allowing nature to lead you into deep spiritual connection and teachings?
This was the conversation I have literally been wanting to have with someone. This guy was speaking my language. If he only knew, I spent hours on the internet identifying the bark, comparing needles, cones and considering the riverbed forest location in which it grew. I had been wanting an expert to validate my research and here he was on this less-traveled road right in front of me. This was no coincidence. I wanted to burst out laughing because it was ridiculously perfect!
Behind the scenes, Blue Spruce was less impressed with me and asking if I actually didn’t think it was capable of creating scenarios like this one. No, no, I know you can, I told it, having an aloud conversation with the man and an energetic conversation with the tree.
We loaded the boughs into my car before he asked what I was going to do with it. Can you imagine? Like it was normal to him that I was out here spending time with a fallen tree.
When I told him that I’m an alchemist and that I am turning the tree into incense and essences his face lit up.
“Well after Blue Spruce you have to try Subalpine Fir. It’s my favorite. You’ll have to go up to a higher elevation to get to it. But its aroma...” he faded into an aromatic memory. “The sap comes out of the bark in the spring like bubbles and it’s just incredible.”
His pure joy about the sap made me laugh out loud. I nodded in agreement and told him I would seek out one of his firs.
I thanked him again and we shook hands, sharing names. He drove away and I looked back at my tree friend.
“You are quite magical, aren’t you?”, I asked aloud. The energy swirled in the air. Raven flew overhead and its call echoed in the forest. A nearby cottonwood leaned in the breeze and gave a loud, slow creak.
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