Journeyman

Your apprenticeship is over, you’ve known the basics for some time. You sense that this is not enough. You’re right: there is something more for you. You are already in possession of the raw materials from which you will form your tools. 

It is time you knew more. Here is what you must learn:

Use your anger; it is fire. Melt with it the steel bars of tyranny and forge a knife - feather-light - for fair Ma’at. Weigh the blade against your heart. Wield it only when the scales balance.

Use your fear; it is earth. With it you can cast a cuirass of courage and construct a keep of caution. Don one to leave the other and doff the former when you return. Both are crucial to the quest.

Use your sadness; it is water. Quench in it your red-hot shame and watch the iron crack and warp until it assumes the shape of truth. Then steep, simmer, boil into being the stuff of real change - make of sorrow the steam that will power your freedom.

Use your joy; it is air. The very medium in which you move. Let it push you, buffeting, until you find the shape that lifts. Learn in its currents the form of your flight. Then glide on updrafts of delight.

No element can be ignored, no emotion elided. You will need every one with every step. Keep them close, name them quickly, and they always draw you onward. 

And when you’re ready, when you can travel these realms at will and harness each to your destiny, you will craft your masterpiece.

You will work magic.