I've always operated from a place of solid imagination, cultivated over this lifetime. When you purchase a book from me, I imagine it as a real book. Not some Zon-rental service loan that vanishes at corporate whim—you own it. It sits on your virtual bookshelf, yours to do with as you will. Just like a physical book, but digital.

This philosophy has caused me grief. Customers demand replacement copies: "my computer crashed," "I don't know where it is," endless variations on the same theme. I patiently explain my position with a simple question: "If I sold you a book and your house burned down, would you go to the author and demand another book?"

I cannot make everyone happy. I operate with the same standard for all—this is the best equanimity I can display. Mostly, I've received little grief from reasonable beings. Now that Zon is actively removing books you purchased from your devices, my approach seems prescient.

Perhaps I've been more fair to customers than to myself, giving until I'd exhausted my desire to give entirely. This generosity may have contributed to my own soap making exit—but that's another story.

The Sisters' Of Misunderstood Magic Revelation

My sisters have written new books. The most recently completed work by Maggie and Ivy is shockingly insightful—filled with significant family recipes, methods for approaching the world to pierce into the unseen realm, and profound insights into ways to see a magical world everyday.

Here's what matters most: the first level of initiation requires that you must read.

Not skim. Not browse. Not borrow. Read. Possess the knowledge completely, let it transform you from within. Just as I believe in true ownership of books, my sisters understand that magical knowledge cannot be rented, borrowed, or superficially accessed.

Unique Considerations:

Why read? Because words are the bridge between worlds—they carry the vibrational frequencies needed to attune consciousness before any practical work begins. Most magical traditions rush to ritual, but my sisters recognize that linguistic possession precedes energetic mastery.

The subscription mindset plaguing digital culture mirrors the spiritual bypassing epidemic in modern magic—people want quick access without integration, results without responsibility. True ownership, whether of books or magical knowledge, requires metabolizing the content until it becomes part of your structure.

Consider this: when you truly own a book, you can quote it years later, reference specific passages, build upon its ideas, make personal notes. When you truly own magical knowledge, it operates through you automatically, becoming instinct rather than performance.

The parallel isn't coincidental. Both digital ownership and magical initiation demand the same thing: genuine possession rather than temporary access. Whether it's a book on your virtual shelf or mystical wisdom integrated into your being, half-measures create half-results.

The magical realm doesn't open to casual browsers any more than true understanding comes from borrowed thoughts. One must absorb the knowledge like a great meal. Can you gain nutrition from observing food?

Read. Own. Transform.

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