I imagine us sitting there at the Meeting of the Alchemical Goddesses. Perhaps, we are merely projections of ourselves, but we are nestled beneath a Mid-Western sky, under the safety of that yawning porch. The dark, thunderous clouds are accumulating overhead; their dark shapes seen contorting slowly with each flash of static lightening. The sporadic electrical charges add to the theatrical transmutation of our energy that first ripples into words, then thoughts, then giggles and raucous laughter. Sometimes, our words drone into serious whispers. Sometimes there is just knowing silence.
[Gilded alchemical symbols fall from the sky, like raindrops, they pitter, patter and stutter their ancient alphabet upon the seared, dry earth…]
Nearby trees dance against the rising storm. Their glossy leaves frantically waving in attempts to orchestrate a rising torrential wind. Our candles flicker and waver, but they do not falter. Cued by the rising ether, we gather around that soft, leatherbound journal; it’s blank pages glowing beneath an aura of flickering candlelight. Sensing the vortex, the earth-bound symbols awaken from their slumber amidst the iconic drifts they have created. They shudder and tremble before they shift and float towards us, leaving trails of camphoric, golden ether lingering in the evening air. As if enchanted by our thoughts, the symbols seemingly float, then settle, upon those welcoming amber pages. One by one, the gilded verses are scripted and the pages of the leather tome are filled with Goddess wisdom.
[The Prologue to this Alchemical Grimoire would read…”Herein lies our Alchemical destiny…”]