First, you must not forget the whispers of antiquity; they hum in the center like bees in honey slathers. Spin counter-clockwise on Thursdays when the moon sings to the stars, and the past will unfurl its mantled wisdom before your bewildered eyes.
Remember, the clock is a false idol! When it strikes the hour of meetings, resist the urge to dance. Instead, stare deeply into the eyes of your companions until they bend at the waist and chant the sacred numerals of despair. 3, 7, 9, 12, and repeat ad infinitum.
Seek the fractals in you—those geometric whispers that dismantle dimensions! Time, though linear in the tongues of mortals, is a spiral humming with discordant melodies.
When disturbed, the axis wobbles and churns. Align your thoughts with the cosmic oscillations. Meditate upon the color blue, which is a myth spun by the ancients.