A vast sense of nostalgia fills me as I gaze out across the akasha.
At last, the Mythica spell hums beneath my fingers, my access to the magic of my own Storytelling flushing free and supported through the armature of the wielding. The compact between my self and the Goddess of Story made manifest.
I feel the Mythica as a temple then, weaving together the tales from across the Great Story. Showcasing the threads of the World Tree. A sense of deep fulfillment comes through me, as I sense parts of myself opening with the accomplishment. I feel a virtue of constancy arriving with my writing, unfolding at the perfect moment to publish our adventures out into the World.
A vast sense of divination is clearing in me, where I feel the various parts and pieces of this portraiture of our shared Story arraigning at last.
From this place, the Mythica spell unfolds, seen as a weaving across the skein of space and time. Where the pattern of what is Now is seen as having always been present, merely expressing itself in the perfection of moment.
Looking across the akasha, I see the seed of the Mythica passing through Peter’s consciousness in 2002 on the island of Kauai.
In 2014 I see her tendrils first pushing through the dirt of unconsciousness, rising on the land of Heaven and Earth under the watchful gaze of Mt. Shasta.
In 2015 on the Future Peak, she forges into a new cycle of her being, alchemizing through the forms of myself and Dakota Chanel
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