The Grimoire Within – Taoism, Belief, and Building Your Own System
📖 Opening the Book You Forgot You Were Writing
What if you’ve been writing a grimoire this whole time—without even knowing it?
Not a dusty old spellbook bound in leather (though no judgement if that’s your vibe), but something quieter, subtler. A living archive. A woven thread of the thoughts, feelings, instincts, and inner knowings that have shaped how you move through the world.
Because whether you call it a belief system, a worldview, or just “the way things are,” you already have one. Everyone does. You might not have written it down. You might not even know what’s in it. But it’s there—encoded in your decisions, your patterns, your reactions, your longings, your guilt.
The invitation in this chapter—and in Fires of Alchemy as a whole—is to build your own grimoire. Consciously. Intentionally. Gently. Not as a rigid rulebook, but as a soft map of meaning. A guide that works for you, not against you. One that empowers you to live in alignment with who you are, not who you were told to be.
The truth is, we all already pick and choose. Even the most devout among us follow some teachings and ignore others. It’s 2025—no one’s stoning people in the town square (…I hope). People celebrate Easter but skip the sermons, light candles but forget the commandments. They wear crosses, chant mantras, check horoscopes, and pray when the plane hits turbulence—even if they say they don’t believe in God.
So the question isn’t “Should I pick and choose?” The question is:
“Why not do it consciously?”
This is your rite of passage.
A reclamation of your own internal metaphysical operating system.
Not one inherited, imposed, or downloaded from a spiritual influencer—but one woven by you.
You don’t have to be an open book to everyone. But don’t keep your beliefs from yourself either.
Let’s open the one you’ve already started writing—
and decide what kind of author you want to be.
🌀 Why Belief Still Matters (Even If You’re Anti-Dogma)
You might think you don’t believe in anything in particular.
You might call yourself spiritual-but-not-religious, or maybe just spiritual-adjacent. You might roll your eyes at New Age buzzwords or back away slowly from anything that smells like dogma. You might say “I don’t know what I believe,” and mean it.
There’s just one problem:
You already have a belief system.
It just might be an unconscious one.
It lives in the background—like software you never installed but somehow runs your entire operating system. It’s the sum of what you absorbed without consent: from your family, your school, your culture, your heartbreaks. From books, sermons, movies, Instagram reels. From that one time you failed. From that one time you got praised.
It’s in the way you finish sentences like:
“People are basically _______.”
“Life is supposed to be _______.”
“I can’t be loved unless _______.”
Most of us didn’t write those scripts.
But we’re still running them, most of the time without realising it.
So this chapter, this moment, this post—it’s not asking you to adopt a belief system.
It’s inviting you to rewrite the one you already have.
Not with rigid rules or spiritual cosplay, but with awareness.
What do you actually believe about the world? About yourself? About death? About love?
Then, more importantly:
Are those beliefs helping you? Or hurting you?
Your beliefs are the scaffolding that holds your emotional reality together. They shape how safe you feel in your body. How much you trust people. Whether you forgive yourself or keep whipping the ghost of who you used to be. They are the psychic infrastructure of your life.
So if what you believe causes more friction than flow—
If it tightens your chest, dulls your joy, or traps you in endless self-judgement—
You’re allowed to change it.
You’re allowed to update your internal rulebook.
To uninstall beliefs that never really belonged to you.
To write new ones from a truth that’s been growing quietly inside you all along.
Not to become someone else.
But to finally, fully, become yourself with intention.
🪷 Taoism as an Anchor Philosophy: Let the Water Teach You
If I had to pick one philosophy that’s quietly shaped my way of being, it’s Taoism.
Not in a formal, robe-wearing, incense-lighting way—though I’m not opposed to that either—but in the quiet, grounding way of someone learning how to flow with life instead of wrestling it into submission.
My version of Taoism is pretty simple:
Give a fuck, but don’t get enmeshed.
Care about others, but don’t be a snitch or a saviour.
Do your work, but don’t push.
Show up with love, not force.
That’s it. That’s the vibe.
Where other systems give you commandments or karma or ten-step plans, the Tao gives you metaphors. It teaches by reflection. By nature. By negation. It’s the philosophy of paradox and poetry.
Wu wei is one of its core tenets—usually translated as “non-action,” though I prefer “non-forcing.” It doesn’t mean you do nothing. It means you move when it’s time, how it’s needed, without extra noise. It’s the canoe gliding with the current, not the engine roaring upstream.
Ziran means naturalness, or “of itself so.” A reminder that you don’t need to contort yourself into some ideal. The oak tree isn’t trying to become a pine. You’re allowed to just be… you.
Then, of course, there’s Yin and Yang. Not a battle between light and dark, but a dance. A constant swirling of opposites, each containing a seed of the other. Effort and ease. Sadness and joy. Boundaries and openness. Sacredness and shit-posts. You don’t have to pick a side—you are both sides. That’s the point.
One of the most liberating things I’ve learned from the Tao is this:
You’re not here to be pure. You’re here to be whole.
You can still drink. You can still cry. You can eat junk food, get angry, swear like a sailor, and sleep through your morning routine. You’re not a monk.
But even with makeup and drool smeared down your face or a hangover headache,
your body is still a temple.
The Tao doesn’t shame your cycles—it honours them.
It doesn’t demand ascension—it encourages alignment.
It’s the gentle teacher of embodied accountability—without ego, without urgency.
Be the tree, not the chainsaw. Rooted, responsive, unmoved by passing winds, yet always growing.
Let the water teach you.
Flexible. Patient. Unstoppable.
It doesn’t force its way forward—it wears mountains down with presence alone.
That’s what real healing looks like. Quiet. Relentless. Elemental.
You don’t need to control the current.
You just need to stop fighting the flow.
🧪 The Inner Alchemy Lens: Intention, Perception, Transmutation
If Taoism is the water that guides the river, then this is the fire that shapes the path.
At the heart of Fires of Alchemy is a living framework—
a simple loop of transformation that underpins every post, every card, every insight:
Intention. Perception. Transmutation.
These three elements form what I call the inner alchemy lens—
a way of processing your life experience through self-awareness instead of self-abandonment.
It’s not about fixing yourself. It’s about witnessing yourself so fully that change becomes inevitable.
Let’s break them down:
🔥 Intention – What’s fuelling the action?
Is it fear? Shame? Proving something?
Or is it truth, clarity, care, curiosity?
Intention is the spark. The seed. The “why” behind what you’re doing or believing.
It doesn’t have to be noble. It just has to be honest.
Sometimes the intention is survival. Sometimes it’s self-sabotage.
Sometimes it’s love in disguise.
When you name the intention, you reclaim your agency.
👁️ Perception – What story are you telling yourself?
Is this really what’s happening—or just what it reminds you of?
Are you seeing clearly, or through the fog of an old wound?
Perception is the lens you see through.
It’s shaped by everything—your childhood, your culture, your mood, your gut.
This is where most of our pain hides: not in what’s real, but in what we’ve told ourselves is real.
What you perceive as truth becomes your truth—until you look again.
♻️ Transmutation – What can you compost and alchemise?
This is where the magic happens.
Once you’ve clarified the intention and cleaned the perception, you can start to work with the raw material of your experience—turning pain into purpose, resistance into ritual, fear into feedback.
Not by bypassing it.
But by sitting with it until it changes form.
Just like compost, nothing is wasted.
Even your worst moments can become medicine—if you know how to tend to them.
This isn’t a one-time exercise. It’s a loop. A spiral.
You’ll come back to it again and again—because that’s how real change works.
As you write your grimoire, let this become your spiritual filtration system.
Run every belief, memory, reaction, and breakthrough through it.
Ask:
Why do I believe this? (Intention)
Is this true? Is it kind? (Perception)
Can this become something useful? (Transmutation)
And above all:
“Your beliefs should work for you, not against you.”
If they aren’t helping you live a more grounded, loving, connected life—
they’re not sacred. They’re just noise.
📜 Start With the Big Questions
“Where do you think we go when we die?”
It’s a question most of us dodge unless we’re forced to look.
A funeral. A diagnosis. A dream. A breakdown. A bolt of awareness.
But if you’re building your own grimoire—your custom metaphysical worldview—
this is where you start. Not because it’s morbid, but because it’s foundational.
Most religions begin here.
Not with how to live—but with what happens when it ends.
So pause with me for a moment.
Drop the rules. Drop the fear. Just ask yourself honestly:
What do I think happens after death?
And do I actually believe it?
Here’s what I believe:
I believe that when we die, we are shown a kind of life review.
Not as punishment. Not as judgement from some vengeful God.
But as a mirror held up to the soul—by the soul.
I think this is what people glimpse when they say their life flashes before their eyes.
Near-death experiencers describe it too: a profound sense of clarity, compassion, and awareness, as if they were watching themselves and everyone else their choices touched.
Science even gives us a bridge here:
Research on dying rats shows a sudden, dramatic spike in DMT—the same compound found in powerful psychedelics—released by the pineal gland moments before death.
Whether spiritual or biological, it’s a plausible doorway into soul-level perception.
Imagine it:
A full playback of your life.
Not just what you did, but how it landed. How it rippled.
How it made others feel.
Now imagine watching that with your highest self beside you.
Not judging, just witnessing.
That’s not hell.
That’s cosmic hangxiety.
And before you panic—know this:
It’s not just the hard moments you relive.
It’s the good ones too.
The love. The laughter. The random kindness. The words that helped someone else breathe easier.
You get to feel all of it. That’s the gift.
So why wait?
Do a mini life review now.
Scroll through your camera roll.
Flip through your memories.
Ask:
If I died tomorrow, would I be proud of how I treated people?
Would I feel at peace with how I showed up?
If the answer’s murky, don’t spiral. Don’t shame yourself.
Just begin here: You still have time.
You are not too late.
You are not too broken.
You are not your worst day or your lowest belief.
Forgiveness is available now, from yourself—no matter what.
Here’s the twist:
The more you live like someone you’d be proud to look back on,
the less you’ll fear death—and the more alive you’ll feel in every moment.
🧭 Comparative Compass: Other “-isms” on the Buffet Table
“You’re not confused. You’re customising.”
What if your soul has always known what resonates—and you’ve just been collecting the pieces?
You’re allowed to treat belief like a toolkit, not a prison cell.
You don’t have to buy the whole belief system to benefit from its gifts.
Below are some of the most common “-isms” you might have encountered on your path—each with something to offer, and something to leave behind.
Use what uplifts. Leave what burdens. That is the path.
Raw ingredients available below for your recipe:
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A philosophy of effortlessness and harmony with the natural world. Taoism encourages you to move like water, stay grounded like a tree, and find freedom in rhythm rather than control.
Strength:
Encourages deep self-trust, acceptance of what is, and gentle non-interference. It teaches you to respond instead of react, and to embrace paradox without the need for resolution.
Shadow:
Can tip into passivity or apathy if misunderstood. “Non-doing” doesn’t mean never doing—and sometimes inaction becomes avoidance.
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A modern ecosystem of productivity hacks, manifestation techniques, affirmations, and “life optimisation” systems.
Strength:
Accessible, motivating, and often practical. Can help people build structure, confidence, and new habits.
Shadow:
Can become toxic positivity in disguise. Often oversimplifies trauma or systemic issues and shifts all blame onto the individual. Hustle culture in spiritual clothing.
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A path rooted in the Four Noble Truths, focused on ending suffering through mindfulness, detachment, and compassion for all beings.
Strength:
Offers profound tools for presence, clarity, and internal peace. Encourages non-attachment to outcomes and a radical embrace of impermanence.
Shadow:
If over-intellectualised, it can lean toward spiritual bypassing. The focus on detachment can accidentally suppress human emotion or embodiment when misapplied.
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A worldview based on observable, testable phenomena. Values reason, empirical evidence, and scepticism of unprovable claims.
Strength:
Excellent for grounding, critical thinking, and understanding the physical world. Anchors us in what can be measured and trusted through replication.
Shadow:
Often dismisses subjective experience, emotional intelligence, and spiritual intuition. Can leave people feeling spiritually hollow or disconnected from wonder.
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A major monotheistic tradition grounded in the life and teachings of Jesus. Offers a structure of moral values, grace, redemption, and community.
Strength:
At its best, Christianity offers unconditional love, forgiveness, and the power of devotion. The figure of Christ can be a profound archetype of healing and service.
Shadow:
Often weaponised through guilt, shame, purity culture, and rigid dogma. In some interpretations, reinforces hierarchy and fear-based obedience over inner sovereignty.
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A Greco-Roman philosophy that prizes logic, discipline, and emotional resilience. Teaches you to control your response to the uncontrollable.
Strength:
Great for boundaries, clear thinking, and acting from reason over reactivity. Offers practical tools for self-regulation and calm under pressure.
Shadow:
Can lean into emotional suppression or hyper-individualism. When weaponised, it may cut off access to softness, support, or vulnerability.
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A mashup of Eastern mysticism, channelling, crystals, starseeds, and law of attraction. Emphasises personal sovereignty and vibrational alignment.
Strength:
Encourages intuition, multidimensional thinking, energy work, and the belief that reality is co-created. Gives people permission to experiment with their own spiritual truth.
Shadow:
Can lean into escapism, bypassing, or guru worship. Sometimes co-opts sacred traditions without context or humility. “Everything happens for a reason” isn’t always helpful.
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The belief that life is ultimately meaningless—nothing has inherent purpose or value.
Strength:
Can be freeing when you realise you don’t have to conform to imposed meaning. Allows you to reset and rebuild your own definitions.
Shadow:
Easily spirals into despair, apathy, or self-destruction if untethered from love or purpose. Without integration, it can erode the will to engage with life.
No single -ism has all the answers.
But many have seeds of wisdom—waiting to be planted in the right soil.
You’re not meant to fit neatly into any one box.
You’re meant to gather what resonates, compost what doesn’t, and shape a belief system that honours your path, your body, your experience.
That’s not confusion.
That’s customisation.
That’s sovereignty.
So take what sings.
Leave what stings.
You’re the one writing this spellbook now.
🛠️ How to Build Your Own Belief System
🕯️ WWMHSD: What Would My Higher Self Do?
Once you’ve looked around the buffet of beliefs, it’s time to step into authorship.
You’ve already been customising—now you get to consciously compose.
Start small. Start real. Start from where you are.
This isn’t about spiritual perfection—it’s about spiritual honesty.
Try prompts like:
“I believe…”
“I no longer believe…”
“I want to believe that…”
Even if the answers feel contradictory, messy, or unfinished—write them down anyway.
You don’t need to publish them. You don’t even need to tell anyone.
But don’t keep them hidden from yourself.
Your beliefs are already shaping how you live, love, trust, forgive, and show up.
Isn’t it time you met them consciously?
“You don’t need to be spiritually perfect. Just honest.”
To support you in this, I’ve recently updated TheArchivistGPT with a new feature:
a Grimoire Builder that gently prompts you with spiritual and philosophical questions designed to help you explore your core beliefs.
You can answer in real time, reflect as you go, and even download your completed entries at the end to begin your own written grimoire.
If you’re not comfortable sharing such deep truths with an AI, that’s completely valid.
Use the questions as journal prompts instead. The magic is in the reflection, not the format.
When in doubt, here’s a simple north star:
WWMHSD — What Would My Higher Self Do?
What would the unconditionally loving, radically self-trusting version of you say right now?
How would they move? What would they release? What would they forgive?
Would an unconditionally loving version of me act this way?
Would they keep holding this belief? Or are they ready to choose again?
You don’t need to have all the answers.
You just need to ask better questions.
And the best question of all might be:
If I believed I was already worthy… how would that change the story I’m living right now?
🏛️ The Temple of Balanced Living
By now you might be wondering:
What does a spiritually sovereign life actually look like?
It’s not about floating away on a cloud of incense and mantras.
It’s not about being pure, pious, perfect, or permanently regulated.
“Devotion doesn’t wait for clarity—it waits for willingness.”
(– from the post The Walking Temple)
The temple is you. In the mess. In the Monday. In the morning scroll.
It’s not built in the moments you feel the most spiritual—
it’s built in the moments you choose to be kind anyway, even when no one’s watching.
Balanced living doesn’t mean achieving the perfect life-work-spirituality routine.
It means learning to dance with both responsibility and joy.
To hold grief in one hand and humour in the other.
To remember your soul even when you’re stuck in traffic or wiping down the kitchen bench.
It’s the middle path again—not just as a Taoist principle, but as a way of being.
You can be spiritual and messy.
Kind but not naïve.
Gentle but not a pushover.
Wise without needing to control the outcome.
Sacred without needing to be serious all the time.
This is the embodied paradox of being human and holy.
It’s permission to be both—and permission to change.
🪞 Mirror Work for the Modern Mystic
So—now that you’ve gathered tools, tried on beliefs, and met your higher self—
it’s time to meet the you who’s still holding the old stories.
Look in the mirror.
Really look.
Not to judge.
Not to fix.
But to witness.
Ask yourself, gently:
“Are my beliefs lightening my load—or weighing me down?”
This is the most sacred question in your grimoire.
Because if a belief is making you feel unworthy, stuck, afraid, or ashamed…
then it’s not truth. It’s programming.
You get to choose again.
So create a safe container for inner dialogue.
Close the door. Light a candle. Or just breathe in silence.
Then try saying, aloud:
“I forgive myself.”
“I get to rewrite this.”
“I am not broken—I’m becoming.”
You don’t need anyone else’s permission.
You’re already in the temple.
And the temple is always open.
A belief I hold that makes me feel stronger is…
If I watched a life review of myself right now, I would feel…
One way I can live with less regret from this moment forward is…
I forgive myself for believing that…
The version of me who feels free believes that…
What would my higher self do in the situation I’m facing right now?
What beliefs do I want to carry into the next chapter of my life?
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“The cards won’t give you your beliefs—but they’ll show you where they’re holding, shifting, or ready to be released.”
This 5-card spread is designed to help you explore the hidden architecture of your belief system—and gently rewrite what no longer serves.
You can use your own tarot or oracle deck. Or, if you don’t have cards, treat each position as a journal prompt and pull intuitive responses from within.
🕯️Belief Reclamation Spread (5 Cards)
1. The Inherited Voice
What belief was passed down to me—consciously or unconsciously?
(This may be from family, culture, religion, or education.)
2. The Hidden Impact
How has this belief shaped how I treat myself or others?
3. The Truth Beneath It
What deeper truth is ready to be revealed?
4. The Liberating Rewrite
What new belief or perspective can I choose instead?
5. Anchor to Integration
What will help me hold and embody this new belief in daily life?
