Welcome to season 3 of Inner Work Guides Alchemical Gnosis Yoga Of The West Podcast. Who would of guessed we would make it this far? In less than three years we’ve grown to over 100 subscribers.

Do you remember that scene in Dune where Stilgar took Lady Jessica to witness Jamis’s water reclamation by the Freman Deathstill?

It was not just a physical reclamation of water for drinking and the things of life, it was more. It was the reclamation of every thing that Jamis experienced.

We are not what we seem, and our beginnings are not what we think. Souls mature in groups and thus we cycle through incarnations within the same soul-family or egregore.

Soul families and biological families are separate things, though members of a soul family will from incarnation to incarnation at times be a mate, parent, sibling, cousin, or close family friend.

Last week we signed off with the sentiment that ‘the universe is not rejecting you, it is mirroring you.’

What it mirrors is the frequency put out by our human instruments and that is a resonance soaked in fear emanating from the vast majority of us.

There is a quote I came across in one of the Parachemy issues from Paracelsus College that went ‘in the beginning is what no one knows and every religion tries to teach.’

It should come as no surprise that as an Alchemist, I break things apart that is the first step in the Spagyric method to break or separate a thing into what alchemy states are its essential or principal parts.

The first thing to separate students from is their erroneous view concerning themselves, and the expectations that misaligned view engenders about the universe.

It is said that a prophet is never recognized in their own home, but their mettle is surely tempered there.

Last week we talked about how the reason for anyone ‘doing’ anything is essentially unknowable; at best we are left in theposition of having to accept or reject the credulity of theirexplanation.

Indeed our judgments about the reasons for another’s ‘doing’ are projections of the whispers from those forgotten voices of ourselves. But how did we lose sight of the sources of those whispers?

My mentor and I were having a light meal at a corner bistro just around the corner from apartment, he was sipping on his drink and I leaned back in my chair to just allow the moment to sink in. The day was glorious, a New York rarity in August that felt like late Spring or Early Fall, where the suns rays messaged you rather than assault with heat and humidity.