Post by faemonyx on Aug 17, 2014 1:26:03 GMT -5
Alchemy seemed so backwards and archaic to me. Silly medieval magicians huffing reactive substances that addled their otherwise brilliant brains, thinking that they can turn lead into gold. We have chemistry now!
Even after learning that psychologist Carl Jung considered alchemical processes a language of metaphors or symbols for the psyche, I just thought, "So what?" The stages of alchemy that Jungians have adopted, nigredo (the darkening of a substance), albedo (the paling of a substance), and rubedo (the reddening of a substance) seemed more observation than active personal development. You can recognize when somebody is in alchemical nigredo or depression, or alchemical albedo or recovery, or alchemical rubedo which is self-actualization. But it didn't seem like something that could be advised as done, so it came off to me a bit useless.
Then I read On Becoming An Alchemist by Catherine MacCoun, and I think this is a very good introductory text. It reads easily, and is full of great information about the history of alchemy, and some core concepts that might have been neglected what with the whole, "Philosopher's stone! Elixir of life! Lead into gold!" material stereotypes. MacCoun rephrases Alchemy as emotional work: transmuting the "base matter" or lead of fear or distractedness, into a "gold" of courage or motivation.
So, I wanted to read more. Donald Tyson's Sexual Alchemy has a more sloggish writing style, and while the metaphysical experiences came off as eerily accurate compared to my own, the physical practices of alchemy described just sounded gross and unhygienic. So, I wouldn't recommend that as "the book on Alchemy to read after MacCoun's", although it was a fascinating read, it didn't really explain to me why Alchemists were so obsessed with heterosexuality and intercourse. That sort of sex, as I've read elsewhere in passing, is supposed to be considered "the original alchemy" as perhaps a less famous goal of alchemists wasn't just transmuting lead into gold but creating life from nonliving substances. (Apparently, just going ahead and having sex was too simple and barbaric for the hardworking, wide-searching Alchemist.)
Bacon's "Mirror of Alchimy" is in a sort of Shakespearean English, because it's an old text, but that's what I'd recommend reading after MacCoun's because I think that it gives a good practical summary where MacCoun might have taken for granted that everybody knew the gist of an alchemical process so she can metaphorize it. Or, maybe MacCoun just didn't think it was important precisely because she wasn't getting material about it at all, it was all emotional work and spiritual experiences in a cosmological framework, all very conceptual.
If I understood Mirror of Alchimy correctly--and I might not have, because Alchemy really is this sort of "idea gumbo"--Alchemy begins with The First Matter, which is not the same as the base matter that's being transmuted because, like Fight Club, "We do not talk about The First Matter!" (According to MacCoun.) Bacon's "Argent-uiue", "Argent-vive" or quicksilver (which we now call Mercury) is the feminine symbolic substance to unite with the masculine dry and fiery sulphur. Or, substances with these characteristics can be extracted from metals, plants, and animal matter.
But, as Bacon entertainingly laments, nobody knows the proportion of the ingredients, nor the one proscribed way to treat them with heat. Whatever the ingredients are, the goal is to get this mix to coagulate into a stone, which means imitating the earth's own natural process in creating stones, with pressure and heat. After that stone is coagulated, it is then boiled, the liquid that it's boiled in turning into the Elixir of Life. That's where the Jungians took the metaphor from, which to me explains why it seemed so observational. The Elixir starts out black, and then changes color with boiling.
I take all these as metaphors, of course, chemists and geophysicists would find the practicality of alchemy as really outdated. The old processes, still, I consider pretty good to know--even if I approach it with an attitude that the writers probably wouldn't have had, that of considering each process a metaphor for personal development.
Even after learning that psychologist Carl Jung considered alchemical processes a language of metaphors or symbols for the psyche, I just thought, "So what?" The stages of alchemy that Jungians have adopted, nigredo (the darkening of a substance), albedo (the paling of a substance), and rubedo (the reddening of a substance) seemed more observation than active personal development. You can recognize when somebody is in alchemical nigredo or depression, or alchemical albedo or recovery, or alchemical rubedo which is self-actualization. But it didn't seem like something that could be advised as done, so it came off to me a bit useless.
Then I read On Becoming An Alchemist by Catherine MacCoun, and I think this is a very good introductory text. It reads easily, and is full of great information about the history of alchemy, and some core concepts that might have been neglected what with the whole, "Philosopher's stone! Elixir of life! Lead into gold!" material stereotypes. MacCoun rephrases Alchemy as emotional work: transmuting the "base matter" or lead of fear or distractedness, into a "gold" of courage or motivation.
So, I wanted to read more. Donald Tyson's Sexual Alchemy has a more sloggish writing style, and while the metaphysical experiences came off as eerily accurate compared to my own, the physical practices of alchemy described just sounded gross and unhygienic. So, I wouldn't recommend that as "the book on Alchemy to read after MacCoun's", although it was a fascinating read, it didn't really explain to me why Alchemists were so obsessed with heterosexuality and intercourse. That sort of sex, as I've read elsewhere in passing, is supposed to be considered "the original alchemy" as perhaps a less famous goal of alchemists wasn't just transmuting lead into gold but creating life from nonliving substances. (Apparently, just going ahead and having sex was too simple and barbaric for the hardworking, wide-searching Alchemist.)
Bacon's "Mirror of Alchimy" is in a sort of Shakespearean English, because it's an old text, but that's what I'd recommend reading after MacCoun's because I think that it gives a good practical summary where MacCoun might have taken for granted that everybody knew the gist of an alchemical process so she can metaphorize it. Or, maybe MacCoun just didn't think it was important precisely because she wasn't getting material about it at all, it was all emotional work and spiritual experiences in a cosmological framework, all very conceptual.
If I understood Mirror of Alchimy correctly--and I might not have, because Alchemy really is this sort of "idea gumbo"--Alchemy begins with The First Matter, which is not the same as the base matter that's being transmuted because, like Fight Club, "We do not talk about The First Matter!" (According to MacCoun.) Bacon's "Argent-uiue", "Argent-vive" or quicksilver (which we now call Mercury) is the feminine symbolic substance to unite with the masculine dry and fiery sulphur. Or, substances with these characteristics can be extracted from metals, plants, and animal matter.
But, as Bacon entertainingly laments, nobody knows the proportion of the ingredients, nor the one proscribed way to treat them with heat. Whatever the ingredients are, the goal is to get this mix to coagulate into a stone, which means imitating the earth's own natural process in creating stones, with pressure and heat. After that stone is coagulated, it is then boiled, the liquid that it's boiled in turning into the Elixir of Life. That's where the Jungians took the metaphor from, which to me explains why it seemed so observational. The Elixir starts out black, and then changes color with boiling.
I take all these as metaphors, of course, chemists and geophysicists would find the practicality of alchemy as really outdated. The old processes, still, I consider pretty good to know--even if I approach it with an attitude that the writers probably wouldn't have had, that of considering each process a metaphor for personal development.